The Hunger Games: Never Safe From Danger

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Frinn’s POV

I can’t help but think that my alliance with Leighla can only end in tragedy. And let’s face it- I’m right.

I’m certainly not the kind of ally she needs, for one thing. Knowing about grain doesn’t help you survive in an arena. And then there’s Zech…

When Leighla told him I had joined the alliance, first he got really angry and kept trying to talk Leighla into ditching me, but she fought for me. Then he said I could stay with them, but he was really annoyed and walked off. We haven’t seen him since, and it happened hours ago.

But who cares about him? I have bigger fish to fry. The interviews are tonight. I only got a five for my training score. I have to face my prep team again. See what my stylist’s put me in. Answer Caesar’s questions without sounding stupid.

Caesar Flickerman hosts the interviews. He’s actually the second Caesar Flickerman- the first died eighty years ago, and his job was taken over by another man. But he apparently acts just like the original.

“Right,” Poppa says. She’s coaching me for the interviews. Ryda’s off in another room with Aquila. No doubt they’ll be playing her off as perfect. Making sure she answers questions confidently, casually highlighting her strengths. They’ll probably do her up and try and make her look pretty. Curl her hair, put her in a fancy outfit, smother every visible patch of her skin in make-up.

I’m so glad Leighla’s my friend instead of her.

“Frinn, I need to know more about you if we’re going to decide on your angle,” Poppa says. Her voice is strong and gentle and very calm. She won her games a few years ago, when she was seventeen. She stayed away from everyone until there was only one other tribute left- the boy from Twelve. She then found his camp and stole his food and supplies every night as he slept, until he eventually starved to death.

“Right, uh, how do we do that?” I ask.

“Well, I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer as honestly as you can. Talk to me as if I was your best friend.”

“Okay…” I say. I think I can do that.

Poppa puts on her best Caesar voice. “Good evening, Frinn!”

I laugh. “You too, Caesar. You too.”

“Now, let’s start with the basics,” she says, staying completely in character. She’s adopted his friendly leaning-over posture. “You have any siblings?”

“Y-yeah…” I say. “My big sister…her name’s Alline, and she’s real great.”

“Ah. And your parents?”

“My mother’s nice…I don’t remember my dad. My grandpa lives with us, though. He’s fun.”

“I see…any friends?”

I hesitate. I know this is only a practice, but I still feel nervous. “Well…not really. But…but I’ve made one since I came here.”

“Oh my gosh, Frinn. This is it. Your angle.”

“W…what?”

She smiles. “Just…you. Be Frinn. You’ll win them all over!” she says. She ruffles my hair and walks out of the room. “See you later, kid!”

I nod, feeling bewildered and very stupid.

After countless hours of etiquette with Aquila that physically hurt me, it’s time for the interviews. I’ve had powder puffs thrown all over my face and I’m in a suit with little embroidered fields of grain.

They used to choose who went first in the interviews through district number, with One being first and Twelve last. But a while back, they must have decided that’s way too fair. Nowadays, the names of all twenty-four tributes are shoved in a glass ball and picked out at random. Unfair, but it has its privileges- you don’t have to sit with your district partner. And seeing as I really don’t want to end up stuck next to Ryda (who is wearing a silky orange dress with a hair decoration made of grass on her head) I survey the room. There’s an empty seat next to Leighla, and while my instincts scream at me to take it, Zech’s sitting on her right. It could well be suicide. But then I see her catch my gaze for a second, and I think, hey, what’s the worst thing that could happen? and go over.

Zech snorts aggressively, but Leighla ignores him and smiles at me. I give Zech a victorious glance and say hi to his sister.

“How have you been today?” I ask her. I can’t help but smile a little.

“Okay…” she says quietly, and then laughs. “We all look ridiculous!”

“You’re right,” I say. “So…”

“So…how are you, Frinn?”

“Nervous,” I say. Because I am.

“Me too…”

Then I’m laughing, for some awkward reason. I don’t know what it is.

I promptly shut up when Caesar steps onto the stage in front of us- nowadays, the tributes sit in the front row of the audience.

“Good evening, Panem!” he says, and then he goes on and on and on for a few minutes. I just don’t listen. I zone out for about thirty seconds, and upon coming back around he’s still talking, so I sigh and just fidget until he sticks his hand in the glass ball containing the names of tributes.

“And the first tribute to be interviewed will be…” he booms, grinning. He unfolds the slip of paper and reads the name.

“Torrin Sirottan, District Five!”