The Hunger Games

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Betrayal. That's the first thing I feel, which is ludicrous.For there to be betrayal, there would have had to beentrust first. Between Peeta and me. And trust has notbeen part of the agreement. We're tributes. But the boywho risked a beating to give me bread, the one whosteadied me in the chariot, who covered for me with theredheaded Avox girl, who insisted Haymitch know myhunting skills . . . was there some part of me thatcouldn't help trusting him?On the other hand, I'm relieved that we can stop thepretense of being friends. Obviously, whatever thinconnection we'd foolishly formed has been severed. Andhigh time, too. The Games begin in two days, and trustwill only be a weakness. Whatever triggered Peeta'sdecision — and I suspect it had to do with myoutperforming him in training — I should be nothing butgrateful for it. Maybe he's finally accepted the fact thatthe sooner we openly acknowledge that we are enemies,the better."Good," I say. "So what's the schedule?" "You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentationand four with me for content," says Haymitch. "You startwith Effie, Katniss."I can't imagine what Effie will have to teach me thatcould take four hours, but she's got me working down tothe last minute. We go to my rooms and she puts me in afull-length gown and high-heeled shoes, not the ones I'llhe wearing for the actual interview, and instructs me onwalking. The shoes are the worst part. I've never wornhigh heels and can't get used to essentially wobblingaround on the balls of my feet. But Effie runs around inthem full-time, and I'm determined that if she can do it,so can I. The dress poses another problem. It keepstangling around my shoes so, of course, I hitch it up, andthen Effie swoops down on me like a hawk, smacking myhands and yelling, "Not above the ankle!" When I finallyconquer walking, there's still sitting, posture —apparently I have a tendency to duck my head — eyecontact, hand gestures, and smiling. Smiling is mostlyabout smiling more. Effie makes me say a hundred banalphrases starting with a smile, while smiling, or endingwith a smile. By lunch, the muscles in my cheeks aretwitching from overuse. "Well, that's the best I can do," Effie says with a sigh."Just remember, Katniss, you want the audience to likeyou.""And you don't think they will?" I ask."Not if you glare at them the entire time. Why don't yousave that for the arena? Instead, think of yourself amongfriends," says Effie."They're betting on how long I'll live!" I burst out."They're not my friends!""Well, try and pretend!" snaps Effie. Then she composesherself and beams at me. "See, like this. I'm smiling atyou even though you're aggravating me.""Yes, it feels very convincing," I say. "I'm going to eat." 1kick off my heels and stomp down to the dining room,hiking my skirt up to my thighs.Peeta and Haymitch seem in pretty good moods, so I'mthinking the content session should be an improvementover the morning. I couldn't be more wrong. After lunch,Haymitch takes me into the sitting room, directs me to the couch, and then just frowns at me for a while."What?" I finally ask."I'm trying to figure out what to do with you," he says."How we're going to present you. Are you going to becharming? Aloof? Fierce? So far, you're shining like astar. You volunteered to save your sister. Cinna madeyou look unforgettable. You've got the top training score.People are intrigued, but no one knows who you are. Theimpression you make tomorrow will decide exactly what Ican get you in terms of sponsors," says Haymitch.Having watched the tribute interviews all my life, I knowthere's truth to what he's saying. If you appeal to thecrowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric,you gain favor."What's Peeta's approach? Or am I not allowed to ask?" Isay."Likable. He has a sort of self-deprecating humornaturally," says Haymitch. "Whereas when you open yourmouth, you come across more as sullen and hostile." "I do not!" I say."Please. I don't know where you pulled that cheery, wavygirl on the chariot from, but I haven't seen her before orsince," says Haymitch."And you've given me so many reasons to be cheery," Icounter."But you don't have to please me. I'm not going tosponsor you. So pretend I'm the audience," saysHaymitch. "Delight me.""Fine!" I snarl. Haymitch takes the role of the interviewerand I try to answer his questions in a winning fashion.But I can't. I'm too angry with Haymitch for what he saidand that I even have to answer the questions. All I canthink is how unjust the whole thing is, the HungerGames. Why am I hopping around like some trained dogtrying to please people I hate? The longer the interviewgoes on, the more my fury seems to rise to the surface,until I'm literally spitting out answers at him."All right, enough," he says. "We've got to find anotherangle. Not only are you hostile, I don't know anything about you. I've asked you fifty questions and still haveno sense of your life, your family, what you care about.They want to know about you, Katniss.""But I don't want them to! They're already taking myfuture! They can't have the things that mattered to me inthe past!" I say."Then lie! Make something up!" says Haymitch."I'm not good at lying," I say."Well, you better learn fast. You've got about as muchcharm as a dead slug," says Haymitch.Ouch. That hurts. Even Haymitch must know he's beentoo harsh because his voice softens. "Here's an idea. Tryacting humble.""Humble," I echo."That you can't believe a little girl from District Twelvehas done this well. The whole thing's been more than youever could have dreamed of. Talk about Cinna's clothes.How nice the people are. How the city amazes you. If you won't talk about yourself, at least compliment theaudience. Just keep turning it back around, all right.Gush."The next hours are agonizing. At once, it's clear I cannotgush. We try me playing cocky, but I just don't have thearrogance. Apparently, I'm too "vulnerable" for ferocity.I'm not witty. Funny. Sexy. Or mysterious.By the end of the session, I am no one at all. Haymitchstarted drinking somewhere around witty, and a nastyedge has crept into his voice. "I give up, sweetheart. Justanswer the questions and try not to let the audience seehow openly you despise them."I have dinner that night in my room, ordering anoutrageous number of delicacies, eating myself sick, andthen taking out my anger at Haymitch, at the HungerGames, at every living being in the Capitol by smashingdishes around my room. When the girl with the red haircomes in to turn down my bed, her eyes widen at themess. "Just leave it!" I yell at her. "Just leave it alone!"I hate her, too, with her knowing reproachful eyes thatcall me a coward, a monster, a puppet of the Capitol, both now and then. For her, justice must finally behappening. At least my death will help pay for the life ofthe boy in the woods.But instead of fleeing the room, the girl closes the doorbehind her and goes to the bathroom. She comes backwith a damp cloth and wipes my face gently then cleansthe blood from a broken plate off my hands. Why is shedoing this? Why am I letting her?"I should have tried to save you," I whisper.She shakes her head. Does this mean we were right tostand by? That she has forgiven me?"No, it was wrong," I say.She taps her lips with her fingers then points to mychest. I think she means that I would just have ended upan Avox, too. Probably would have. An Avox or dead.I spend the next hour helping the redheaded girl cleanthe room. When all the garbage has been dropped downa disposal and the food cleaned away, she turns downmy bed. I crawl in between the sheets like a five-year-old and let her tuck me in. Then she goes. I want her to stayuntil I fall asleep. To be there when I wake up. I want theprotection of this girl, even though she never had mine.In the morning, it's not the girl but my prep team whoare hanging over me. My lessons with Effie and Haymitchare over. This day belongs to Cinna. He's my last hope.Maybe he can make me look so wonderful, no one willcare what comes out of my mouth.The team works on me until late afternoon, turning myskin to glowing satin, stenciling patterns on my arms,painting flame designs on my twenty perfect nails. ThenVenia goes to work on my hair, weaving strands of redinto a pattern that begins at my left ear, wraps aroundmy head, and then falls in one braid down my rightshoulder. They erase my face with a layer of palemakeup and draw my features back out. Huge dark eyes,full red lips, lashes that throw off bits of light when Iblink. Finally, they cover my entire body in a powder thatmakes me shimmer in gold dust.Then Cinna enters with what I assume is my dress, but Ican't really see it because it's covered. "Close your eyes,"he orders. I can feel the silken inside as they slip it down over mynaked body, then the weight. It must be forty pounds. Iclutch Octavia's hand as I blindly step into my shoes,glad to find they are at least two inches lower than thepair Effie had me practice in. There's some adjusting andfidgeting. Then silence."Can I open my eyes?" I ask."Yes," says Cinna. "Open them."The creature standing before me in the full-length mirrorhas come from another world. Where skin shimmers andeyes flash and apparently they make their clothes fromjewels. Because my dress, oh, my dress is entirelycovered in reflective precious gems, red and yellow andwhite with bits of blue that accent the tips of the flamedesign. The slightest movement gives the impression Iam engulfed in tongues of fire.I am not pretty. I am not beautiful. I am as radiant asthe sun.For a while, we all just stare at me. "Oh, Cinna," I finallywhisper. "Thank you." "Twirl for me," he says. I hold out my arms and spin in acircle. The prep team screams in admiration.Cinna dismisses the team and has me move around inthe dress and shoes, which are infinitely moremanageable than Effie's. The dress hangs in such a waythat I don't have to lift the skirt when I walk, leaving mewith one less thing to worry about."So, all ready for the interview then?" asks Cinna. I cansee by his expression that he's been talking to Haymitch.That he knows how dreadful I am."I'm awful. Haymitch called me a dead slug. No matterwhat we tried, I couldn't do it. I just can't be one ofthose people he wants me to be," I say.Cinna thinks about this a moment. "Why don't you justbe yourself?""Myself? That's no good, either. Haymitch says I'm sullenand hostile," I say."Well, you are . . . around Haymitch," says Cinna with agrin. "I don't find you so. The prep team adores you. You even won over the Gamemakers. And as for the citizensof the Capitol, well, they can't stop talking about you. Noone can help but admire your spirit."My spirit. This is a new thought. I'm not sure exactlywhat it means, but it suggests I'm a fighter. In a sort ofbrave way. It's not as if I'm never friendly. Okay, maybeI don't go around loving everybody I meet, maybe mysmiles are hard to come by, but I do care for somepeople.Cinna takes my icy hands in his warm ones. "Suppose,when you answer the questions, you think you'readdressing a friend back home. Who would your bestfriend be?" asks Cinna."Gale," I say instantly. "Only it doesn't make sense,Cinna. I would never be telling Gale those things aboutme. He already knows them.""What about me? Could you think of me as a friend?"asks Cinna.Of all the people I've met since I left home, Cinna is byfar my favorite. I liked him right off and he hasn't disappointed me yet. "I think so, but —""I'll be sitting on the main platform with the otherstylists. You'll be able to look right at me. When you'reasked a question, find me, and answer it as honestly aspossible," says Cinna."Even if what I think is horrible?" I ask. Because it mightbe, really."Especially if what you think is horrible," says Cinna."You'll try it?"I nod. It's a plan. Or at least a straw to grasp at.Too soon it's time to go. The interviews take place on astage constructed in front of the Training Center. Once Ileave my room, it will be only minutes until I'm in frontof the crowd, the cameras, all of Panem.As Cinna turns the doorknob, I stop his hand. "Cinna . .." I'm completely overcome with stage fright."Remember, they already love you," he says gently. "Justbe yourself." We meet up with the rest of the District 12 crowd at theelevator. Portia and her gang have been hard at work.Peeta looks striking in a black suit with flame accents.While we look well together, it's a relief not to be dressedidentically. Haymitch and Effie are all fancied up for theoccasion. I avoid Haymitch, but accept Effie'scompliments. Effie can be tiresome and clueless, butshe's not destructive like Haymitch.When the elevator opens, the other tributes are beinglined up to take the stage. All twenty-four of us sit in abig arc throughout the interviews. I'll be last, or secondto last since the girl tribute precedes the boy from eachdistrict. How I wish I could be first and get the wholething out of the way! Now I'll have to listen to how witty,funny, humble, fierce, and charming everybody else isbefore I go up. Plus, the audience will start to get bored,just as the Gamemakers did. And I can't exactly shoot anarrow into the crowd to get their attention.Right before we parade onto the stage, Haymitch comesup behind Peeta and me and growls, "Remember, you'restill a happy pair. So act like it."What? I thought we abandoned that when Peeta asked for separate coaching. But I guess that was a private, nota public thing. Anyway, there's not much chance forinteraction now, as we walk single-file to our seats andtake our places.Just stepping on the stage makes my breathing rapid andshallow. I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples. It'sa relief to get to my chair, because between the heelsand my legs shaking, I'm afraid I'll trip. Although eveningis falling, the City Circle is brighter than a summer's day.An elevated seating unit has been set up for prestigiousguests, with the stylists commanding the front row. Thecameras will turn to them when the crowd is reacting totheir handiwork. A large balcony off a building to theright has been reserved for the Game-makers. Televisioncrews have claimed most of the other balconies. But theCity Circle and the avenues that feed into it arecompletely packed with people. Standing room only. Athomes and community halls around the country, everytelevision set is turned on. Every citizen of Panem istuned in. There will be no blackouts tonight.Caesar Flickerman, the man who has hosted theinterviews for more than forty years, bounces onto thestage. It's a little scary because his appearance has been virtually unchanged during all that time. Same face undera coating of pure white makeup. Same hairstyle that hedyes a different color for each Hunger Games. Sameceremonial suit, midnight blue dotted with a thousandtiny electric bulbs that twinkle like stars. They do surgeryin the Capitol, to make people appear younger andthinner. In District 12, looking old is something of anachievement since so many people die early. You see anelderly person you want to congratulate them on theirlongevity, ask the secret of survival. A plump person isenvied because they aren't scraping by like the majorityof us. But here it is different. Wrinkles aren't desirable. Around belly isn't a sign of success.This year, Caesar's hair is powder blue and his eyelidsand lips are coated in the same hue. He looks freakishbut less frightening than he did last year when his colorwas crimson and he seemed to be bleeding. Caesar tellsa few jokes to warm up the audience but then gets downto business.The girl tribute from District 1, looking provocative in asee-through gold gown, steps up the center of the stageto join Caesar for her interview. You can tell her mentordidn't have any trouble coming up with an angle for her. With that flowing blonde hair, emerald green eyes, herbody tall and lush . . . she's sexy all the way.Each interview only lasts three minutes. Then a buzzergoes off and the next tribute is up. I'll say this forCaesar, he really does his best to make the tributesshine. He's friendly, tries to set the nervous ones at ease,laughs at lame jokes, and can turn a weak response intoa memorable one by the way he reacts.I sit like a lady, the way Effie showed me, as the districtsslip by. 2, 3, 4. Everyone seems to be playing up someangle. The monstrous boy from District 2 is a ruthlesskilling machine. The fox-faced girl from District 5 sly andelusive. I spotted Cinna as soon as he took his place, buteven his presence cannot relax me. 8, 9, 10. The crippledboy from 10 is very quiet. My palms are sweating likecrazy, but the jeweled dress isn't absorbent and they skidright of if I try to dry them. 11.Rue, who is dressed in a gossamer gown complete withwings, flutters her way to Caesar. A hush falls over thecrowd at the sight of this magical wisp of a tribute.Caesar's very sweet with her, complimenting her sevenin training, an excellent score for one so small. When he asks her what her greatest strength in the arena will be,she doesn't hesitate. "I'm very hard to catch," she saysin a tremulous voice. "And if they can't catch me, theycan't kill me. So don't count me out.""I wouldn't in a million years," says Caesarencouragingly.The boy tribute from District 11, Thresh, has the samedark skin as Rue, but the resemblance stops there. He'sone of the giants, probably six and a half feet tall andbuilt like an ox, but I noticed he rejected the invitationsfrom the Career Tributes to join their crowd. Instead he'sbeen very solitary, speaking to no one, showing littleinterest in training. Even so, he scored a ten and it's nothard to imagine he impressed the Gamemakers. Heignores Caesar's attempts at banter and answers with ayes or no or just remains silent.If only I was his size, I could get away with sullen andhostile and it would be just fine! I bet half the sponsorsare at least considering him. If I had any money, I'd beton him myself.And then they're calling Katniss Everdeen, and I feel myself, as if in a dream, standing and making my waycenter stage. I shake Caesar's outstretched hand, and hehas the good grace not to immediately wipe his off on hissuit."So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change fromDistrict Twelve. What's impressed you most since youarrived here?" asks Caesar.What? What did he say? It's as if the words make nosense.My mouth has gone as dry as sawdust. I desperately findCinna in the crowd and lock eyes with him. I imagine thewords coming from his lips. "What's impressed you mostsince you arrived here?" I rack my brain for somethingthat made me happy here. Be honest, I think. Be honest."The lamb stew," I get out.Caesar laughs, and vaguely I realize some of theaudience has joined in."The one with the dried plums?" asks Caesar. I nod. "Oh,I eat it by the bucketful." He turns sideways to the audience in horror, hand on his stomach. "It doesn'tshow, does it?" They shout reassurances to him andapplaud. This is what I mean about Caesar. He tries tohelp you out."Now, Katniss," he says confidentially, "When you cameout in the opening ceremonies, my heart actuallystopped. What did you think of that costume?"Cinna raises one eyebrow at me. Be honest. "You meanafter I got over my fear of being burned alive?" I ask.Big laugh. A real one from the audience."Yes. Start then," says Caesar.Cinna, my friend, I should tell him anyway. "I thoughtCinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costumeI'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. Ican't believe I'm wearing this, either." I lift up my skirt tospread it out. "I mean, look at it!"As the audience oohs and ahs, I see Cinna make thetiniest circular motion with his finger. But I know whathe's saying. Twirl for me. I spin in a circle once and the reaction is immediate."Oh, do that again!" says Caesar, and so I lift up myarms and spin around and around letting the skirt fly out,letting the dress engulf me in flames. The audiencebreaks into cheers. When I stop, I clutch Caesar's arm."Don't stop!" he says."I have to, I'm dizzy!" I'm also giggling, which I thinkI've done maybe never in my lifetime. But the nerves andthe spinning have gotten to me.Caesar wraps a protective arm around me. "Don't worry,I've got you. Can't have you following in your mentor'sfootsteps."Everyone's hooting as the cameras find Haymitch, who isby now famous for his head dive at the reaping, and hewaves them away good-naturedly and points back to me."It's all right," Caesar reassures the crowd. "She's safewith me. So, how about that training score. E-le-ven.Give us a hint what happened in there." I glance at the Gamemakers on the balcony and bite mylip. "Um . . . all I can say, is I think it was a first."The cameras are right on the Gamemakers, who arechuckling and nodding."You're killing us," says Caesar as if in actual pain."Details. Details."I address the balcony. "I'm not supposed to talk about it,right?"The Gamemaker who fell in the punch bowl shouts out,"She's not!""Thank you," I say. "Sorry. My lips are sealed.""Let's go back then, to the moment they called yoursister's name at the reaping," says Caesar. His mood isquieter now. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us abouther?"No. No, not all of you. But maybe Cinna. I don't think I'mimagining the sadness on his face. "Her name's Prim.She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything." You could hear a pin drop in the City Circle now."What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesarasks.Be honest. Be honest. I swallow hard. "She asked me totry really hard to win." The audience is frozen, hangingon my every word."And what did you say?" prompts Caesar gently.But instead of warmth, I feel an icy rigidity take over mybody. My muscles tense as they do before a kill. When Ispeak, my voice seems to have dropped an octave. "Iswore I would.""I bet you did," says Caesar, giving me a squeeze. Thebuzzer goes off. "Sorry we're out of time. Best of luck,Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve."The applause continues long after I'm seated. I look toCinna for reassurance. He gives me a subtle thumbs-up.I'm still in a daze for the first part of Peeta's interview.He has the audience from the get-go, though; I can hear them laughing, shouting out. He plays up the baker's sonthing, comparing the tributes to the breads from theirdistricts. Then has a funny anecdote about the perils ofthe Capitol showers. "Tell me, do I still smell like roses?"he asks Caesar, and then there's a whole run where theytake turns sniffing each other that brings down thehouse. I'm coming back into focus when Caesar asks himif he has a girlfriend back home.Peeta hesitates, then gives an unconvincing shake of hishead."Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl.Come on, what's her name?" says Caesar.Peeta sighs. "Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crushon her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sureshe didn't know I was alive until the reaping."Sounds of sympathy from the crowd. Unrequited lovethey can relate to."She have another fellow?" asks Caesar."I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," says Peeta. "So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. Shecan't turn you down then, eh?" says Caesarencouragingly."I don't think it's going to work out. Winning . . . won'thelp in my case," says Peeta."Why ever not?" says Caesar, mystified.Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "Because . . .because . . . she came here with me."