Your Heart Outside Your Body

The Interviews

"Don't worry about what to show the Gamemakers," Sue had said. "Just do what you can. You're not going to get a high enough score to merit sponsors based on that, and that's fine. High scores make you a target."

High scores make you a target, Kurt repeated to himself as he stood outside the door, waiting to go in. Finn was in there now, showing the Gamemakers what he could do. He'd picked up the staff pretty easily, or at least, Kurt thought so. He'd probably get a six or a seven. Whereas Kurt… well, he at least knew which end of the knife to hold.

"You okay?" Blaine asked him.

Kurt nodded. "Sure," he said, his voice sounding higher than normal in his ears. "Never better."

Blaine laughed. "You don't have to pretend, you know. Although it's oddly cute. Not that it should be," he backtracked. "But it is."

"Cute." Kurt couldn't help smirking. "Exactly how I want to be viewed in the arena." But exactly what he'd want Blaine to say if they were safe back in District 8, the Hunger Games a horror happening to someone else.

Blaine smiled. He had such a nice smile, Kurt thought, and then reminded himself that Blaine was the enemy.

"Kurt Hummel." His name was called from the door.

"Oh god, that's me." Kurt's stomach turned over uncomfortably.

"Knock 'em dead," Blaine said, nudging him with his shoulder.

Kurt took a deep breath and headed into the gymnasium. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing off the walls. The Gamemakers were seated at a table against the wall, eating and talking quietly. Kurt had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Of all the weapons he'd picked up, he was the most confident with a knife. He chose one- a big, flashy one that would catch the light, and then had no idea what to do from there. Knifing a dummy wasn't impressive.

"I need a partner," he said, as imperiously as possible. The tone of his voice made a Gamemaker raise her eyebrow with what Kurt hoped was interest, and he kept his head up as he waited for one of the instructors to be brought in.

He'd learned a lot in the past three days, he discovered, and managed to demonstrate several throws and blocks. They weren't pretty, but they were effective, and he felt a grim satisfaction when the instructor actually grimaced in pain.

But how the hell did you show survival skills? Both Kurt and Finn had spent a lot of time at those stations, but lighting a fire or telling a nightlock berry from blueberries wasn't flashy or impressive. High scores make you a target he heard Sue saying in his head.

"I don't know what you want from me," he said finally, pulling himself up. "Cameras might be prohibited in the gymnasium, but there's no way you don't know what I can and can't do. Or what I am. And if you think that surviving in District 8 when you're obviously gay is easy, you're dead wrong. So there you go- that's what I can do. That's what I've been doing for the past seventeen years. Surviving. And it's what I'll keep doing, until I can't anymore." He lifted his head high and stormed out the door.

His knees obligingly waited until he was out of the gymnasium to start shaking.

***

"I wish they'd show footage of the training," Carole said, sitting down beside Burt on the couch and handing him his mug of tea.

"It would just scare us to see the other tributes," Burt said.

"I know. But it would just…" It would just give us another chance to see them, Carole wanted to say. But Burt's scowl made her hold her tongue.