Chapter Seven, Interview Prep

❝ trouble sleeping, ❞

❝ restless dreaming. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AS SOON AS HAYMITCH sits down at the dinner table, I remark the absence of my district partner's usual trail.

"Where's Peeta?" I demand, curiosity laced in my tone.

"He's in his room. Now listen, tomorrow's the last day, and they let us work with our tributes, so you and Effie will be going down at 9:00." my mentor responds, his hand already reaching for the whiskey-filled cup sitting in front of him.

"Well, what about him?" I ask, clearly hinting at Peeta Mellark.

"He says he wants to be trained on his own from now on..." Haymitch sighs, avoiding my gaze.

This answer causes my eyebrows to shoot up, not having expected for my partner to wish for our separation before the games even started.

"What?" I mutter, a swirl of betrayal and confusion moving through my body. I had seen Peeta as an ally, even as a friend during these last few days, and his demand to be trained separately causes my heart to ache.

"This kind of thing does happen at this point. There's only one winner right?" Haymitch states, shrugging simultaneously.

I stare at my plate, playing with my fork, embarrassed that I felt so betrayed by Peeta's recent decisions. He was being logical, thinking ahead for the games. 

Instead, I was being distracted, appreciating our friendship. It was ignorant of me to actually forget the fact that it would all be over soon.

"We should have some chocolate-covered strawberries!" Effie interjects, trying to diffuse the very clear tension. 

No matter how delightful that desert sounded, I couldn't help but shudder at the prospect that the games were indeed a step away. Reality was seeping in, and I had been too distracted about forming a strong image of myself to realise what was truly waiting for me at the end of the road.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━EFFIE'S HELP ...

Effie and I head to my room and she puts me in a full-length gown and high-heeled shoes. She spends what feels like hours teaching how to look at the crowd, how to smile, and worst of all, how to walk into these horrendous shoes.

At the end, I slump back down onto a chair, sighing exhaustedly as Effie stands behind me, repeating any last pieces of advice.

"Well, that's the best I can do." Effie finishes with a similar sigh, gently stroking my chestnut hair, "Just remember, you want them to like you."

"What, you don't think they'll appreciate my charming personality?" I joke, peering up at my escort.

"Not of you glare at them the whole time. Just... picture them as friends, and save that attitude for the arena." she orders, outing her finger at me.

"I mean they're pretty snakey friends, considering the fact they're betting on how long I'll live." I reply, a spiteful smirk forming on my face.

"Then try and pretend to enjoy yourself!" Effie snaps. 

However, she rapidly composes herself and continues to play with my hair, beaming at me. "See, like this. I'm smiling at you even though you're aggravating me."

"Yes, it feels very convincing Effie, thank you. You know what, how about you do the interview at my place?" I respond, widely beaming at her, matching her expression.

Somehow, it's as if she feels comforted enough by my fake smile that she pulls me into her slender arms, whispering "I know you can do this". 

I don't know if she's talking about the interview, or the actual games, but I close my eyes, appreciating her display of affection. It feels relieving, somewhat emotional.

"Thank you" I mutter, placing my head in the crook of her neck.

Afterwards, I kick off my heels and stomp down to the dining room, hiking my skirt up to my thighs. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━HAYMITCH'S HELP ...

After lunch, Haymitch takes me into the sitting room and directs me to the couch, while frowning pensively at me.

"What?" I finally ask.

"I'm trying to figure out what do to with you." he says. 

"I already have a small idea, but you need to confirm it. So far, you're shining like a star. You volunteered to save your sister. Cinna made you look unforgettable. You've got the top training score. People are intrigued, but no one knows who you are. The impression you make will decide exactly what I can get you in terms of sponsors." Haymitch describes, coking his head at the same time.

"We need to see you pull off that attractive, cheery girl you were in the chariot, that I haven't really seen since, but also add that fierceness that unmistakably lies in you." my mentor continues.

"Right, because you've given so many reasons to be cheery, Haymitch." I counter back.

The next few hours are even more agonising than the previous ones with Effie. Surprisingly, I manage to put on an acceptable attitude towards the end, ignoring the growing hate I feel towards all those people that support these games, that are treating me like a puppet in their show. I fulfil Haymitch's desires on the subject of the personality I will put on in the interview.

"Good luck sweetheart." he sincerely says, right before I leave.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━CINNA'S HELP ...

My last hope belongs to Cinna. I wish that he can make me look so wonderful, no one will care what comes out of mouth. The team works on me until late afternoon, making my skin glow like the sun. Venia works on my hair, simply curling it, but otherwise letting it wild and free. The last result consists of huge, green eyes, full red lips, lashes that touch my eye-brows. Then Cinna enters with what appears to be my dress, and the stylists help slip it onto my powdered and softened body.

When I stare into the mirror, I feel like a whole other creature stands before me. My dress is entirely covered in reflective precious gems, red and yellow and white with bits of blue that accent the tips of the flame design. I am not just beautiful, I am as radiant as the sun.

"Oh Cinna, thank you!" I finally whisper, giggling and twirling as the prep team screeches in admiration.

"So, all ready for the interview then?" he asks. 

I sigh, dreading that I might make an awful image of myself. Cinna clearly notices the glint of worry in my eyes and pulls into a grin. "Don't be scared Jade, the prep team adores you, and you even won over the Game makers. As for the citizens of the Capitol, they can't stop talking about you. I admire your spirit".

He takes my icy hands in his warm hands, and says: "When Caesar asks you those questions, just image you're talking to me. Okay?"

"Okay" I finally agree, smiling at my stylist, that I had grown to greatly appreciate.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Before joining the queue of tributes awaiting their turn for their interviews, I stay in a corner of backstage, hidden from any eyes. My pulse quickens at an alarming pace and I repeatedly breathe in, trying to calm down.

"Looking fiery." I suddenly hear Cato mockingly state, his imposing figure advancing towards me, his eyes flicking up and down my frame.

"Looking glittery. Your stylist trying to make you look like Glimmer?" I strike back, my heart beating even faster now. The echo of our latest encounter takes over my mind as I ponder on what had taken over me. I mean, kissing his cheek?

The cocky male from District 2 steps even closer, and I can't help but feel weak, like a prey facing its predator. Desperately desiring for the roles to be revered, I stand tall and lean closer to him.

"I hope that's not the attitude you'll be having during the interview." Cato says, a deep chuckle escaping his lips.

"Bet it'll be better than yours either way." I respond, a fake giggle escaping my lips as well, as if to imitate him.

"Is that so?" the boy from District 2 breathes, his intense and unmoving stare causing a surge of feelings appear in my stomach.

"Yeah, I have more charm." I manage, sarcasm dangerously coating my tone.

"Won't deny that." he responds, tingles now floating all across my body.

"Tributes, in line!" a voice orders, pulling me away from the tension-filled conversation I was having. I take my place at the back of the line, ready to watch and examine every interview. 

Glimmer goes in first, nailing the flirty act and charming the crowd with her tall and lush figure, and flowing hair. 

I blank out those following, until I notice Cato's striding walk make an appearance on stage. Caesar interrogates him, but only one question sparks my interest. 

"So, Cato, any special girl in your life right now?" 

A deadly, yet toothy smile spreads on the boy's face as he replies:

"Well, there's one that's caught my eye. It's highly unlikely anything will happen though." My eyes widen, what poor girl could he be possibly talking about? Perhaps Clove, or Glimmer. 

An undistinguishable sentiment lies in the pit of my stomach, and I am unable to decipher its origin. When Cato gets off stage, I stare straight ahead, but fail to ignore his hand skimming mine as he walks past.

I don't pay attention to the rest of the interviews until it is my turn, literally, to shine on stage.

"From District 12, you know her as the Girl on Fire, we also know her as the stunning Jade Everdeen!"

I step onto the stage, beaming at the crowd, almost looking delighted to be there. My eyes catch those of my mentors and stylists. I walk assertively, chin held up high and my gaze fierce, daring. 

I gently sit down onto the white chair, and it feels surreal to be face to face with the man I have seen countless times on television, the man that has met the dying features of every previous tribute.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome, my dear Jade! May I say, you look beautiful. Beautiful! Am I right?" Caesar calls to the horde of citizens, howling in agreement. He is clearly used to flattering his guests.

"Now, let's get straight to the point. That was quite an entrance you made at the tribute's parade, wasn't it?" he then asks.

"Oh god, Caesar, it was really something wasn't it? To be honest, I was just hoping I wouldn't catch on fire the whole time!" I say, widely smiling.

"But, Jade, tell me, was it real fire?" he ponders, inching closer to me, inching to hear my answer.

"Yes! In fact, I'm wearing them today, would you like to see?" I sweetly laugh, feeling nervous under his watchful gaze.

"My, I'd love to Jade!" he claims, broadly smiling.

I offer for him to hold my hand, a mischievous yet kind smile on my face, adding a charming aspect to the fire I was going to start. 

I start twirling, flames bursting all around me. The Capitol's screams fill the room, a boom of applause starting. I giggle as more flames emerge from the end of my dress, completely winning over my audience.

I try to ignore the dizziness when I sit back, genuine awe plastered on the interviewer's visage. Caesar rests a comforting hand on my uncovered shoulder as he suddenly shifts his demeanour, to a painful and melancholic one.

"We were all very moved, I think, when you volunteered for her at the Reaping. Did she come back, say goodbye to you?" he inquires, his iris' now brewing with distinguishable pity.

"Yes, yes she did." I respond, looking down, the sadness reining on my appearance real.

"And what did you say to them, in the end?" he asks.

"That I would win. Win for them." I declare, meeting my interviewer's gaze, lifting my head up from my lap.

"Of course you did. Now, is there one last thing that you would like to say, before leaving?" he comments, and I know that the end of the moment is approaching, and I have to leave with something that will make people remember me.

I look at the hundreds of Capitolians sitting in their seats, watching me like I was a toy, a hatred blooming inside of me, that I refuse to show on my face. However, my voice is sharp and clear when I say 

"I just want people to remember my face when I am crowned victor of the 74th Hunger Games."

The crowd bursts into fits of admiration, as they throw thousands of roses to my feet. I get up, hand in hand with Caesar as he finally exclaims:

"Ladies and gentleman, THE GIRL ON FIRE!"