Hunger Games Entries

Task 3 - The Interviews

I'm relieved beyond description to lose the dress I previously had to wear. Now I'm being styled once again by my stylist's minions. Only this time they have a suit prepared for me. I don't have to look like a district mascot again now that the time for interviews has come.

A plump female assistant brings along a metallic gray suit with matching pants and a soft yellow collared shirt. She hands them over to the other assistants and they crowd around me, dressing me with astounding efficiency.

The shirt is thin and crisply ironed, made of a very soft, breathable material. Next they don the gray suit on me. The collar part of the suit is slightly darker than the rest of it, and is lined with glittery golden embroidery resembling wheat. It's overly shiny and refined, again not very much my go-to style, but I'd take this over the monstrous dress any day. They give me perfectly-polished black pointy shoes with golden metal tips to complete the outfit.

After they fix my suit and banish any stray threads, they spin me around to face a huge mirror. I smirk at my attire. It's actually not so bad. The suit and pants perfectly hide my skinny frame, and the shoulder pads hidden inside it fills in my lacking shoulders, making them look considerably broader and my build stronger. I look like a formidable opponent, so no complaints there.

My stylist nods and gestures his assistants to proceed. I am asked to close my eyes as they lightly powder my face. I feel my untamed hair being weighed down with goops of cold gel and carefully combed to calm the strands down a bit. The comb directs my fringe sideways from where it parts, bringing it down, then flicking them up a bit at the ends. Formerly my forehead-covering fringe, it's now slightly wavy and has more volume.

There are screens backstage from where we can see what's happening onstage. "Thank you, Anaxandra," I hear Sedgwick say to the girl. She is wearing a sparkly silver dress with a puffy skirt and a white necklace. I watch as she waves naturally to the audience, then returning to her normal self again as soon as she is out of sight from the audience.

"Remember, Quinn. Smile and be friendly. Make them like you," my stylist whispers to me from behind.

Okay. I don't even have any real friends back home. Now I have to make a whole country like me.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome, also from District 9...Quinnox Reeves!"

My stylist pushes me forward, and I gulp before showing myself to the audience. The stage, brightly lit, is white and slippery. I'm worried about not tripping over, but at the same time I have to smile and look my friendliest. Hopefully I don't look too awkward.

Sedgwick Flickerman, the interviewer, smiles charismatically as he welcomes me. His green hair is perfectly styled to a pompadour, and his sideburns are curled at the tips.

"Hello, Quinnox. That's a wonderful suit you're wearing today," he compliments. Without thinking, my hand engages in a firm handshake with his.

I smile awkwardly, because no matter how friendly I can act, I'm still not used to crowds of this size. "Thank you, Sedgwick."

We sit on the comfy white seats after we wave to the anticipating audience. Thank goodness I can't really see their faces because of the overly-bright lights glaring at me.

"Welcome to the Capitol! You were wonderful on your chariot, I was honestly astounded."

Apparently I was "wonderful" even in a bloated silver dress. Thank goodness.

"What do you miss most about your district?"

That's an easy one. "My family, definitely. My sister Coreen and my mother. They mean the world to me."

"Touching. So, Quinnox. Is there a special girl back at home?"

I stay silent for awhile, hesitating on whether I should announce it to the world. Then I tilt my head up and answer, "Yes. Yes, there is."

I've never shared my deepest thoughts or feelings with anyone before, and it never crossed my mind that Panem would be the lucky first.

"Ohh!" He grins, suddenly interested. Sedgwick doesn't look all that surprised. But he would have been, if he saw me before the makeover. I've been told too many times how anti-social I look by my family. "Could you tell us more about her?"

"She doesn't know that I exist," I say, the smile fading from my face. "I've done something unforgivable to her, and that's why I've never been able to say a word to her. But now that I'm here, my mind has changed. I won't let myself regret not talking to her. I'm going to give myself a second chance - by returning to my district."

"I must say, Quinnox, that whoever that girl is, she is very lucky to have someone as good-looking and brave as you be so determined to win her heart. But I must ask you, who do you think is most likely to win?"

I smirk after thinking of the first person coming to mind. "Me. Because truly, my only option is victory."

"Ah, I like your confidence. So on the contrary, who do you think is most likely to die first?"

"That would be me as well," I admitted, to the audience's surprise. "I won't overestimate myself, nor will I underestimate the others. That's suicidal. But I'm not afraid of them. I have no reason to be scared of them."

"Interesting. And may I ask, where did you get your district token?"

I fish it out of my pocket, proudly showing it to Sedgwick and the audience. "It's a locket given to me by my younger sister. She's the loveliest little girl I know. It was given to her by our late father, and she gave it to me before the reaping. So that every time I look at the mirror inside it, I won't forget who I am, and what I am capable of. I plan to come back for her. That is exactly what I will do, and I won't let the others stand in my way. Literally."

I flash him a smile to draw away attention from my rather sinister remark, but he's already fascinated, wondering about what I'm going to be like in the arena. I put my bubbliest persona on again.

"That's remarkable, Quinnox. We wish you the best, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

"Thank you, Sedgwick," I say. We shake hands and I wave happily to the audience before leaving the stage.

The image that passes my mind as I exit the stage, is of the lifeless bodies scattered around the Cornucopia, and I am still standing. With my back against the audience, I smirk.