i thought we abandoned that when peeta asked for
separate coaching. but i guess that was a private, not a public
thing. anyway, there’s not much chance for interaction now,
as we walk single-file to our seats and take our places.
just stepping on the stage makes my breathing rapid and
shallow. i can feel my pulse pounding in my temples. it’s a re-
lief to get to my chair, because between the heels and my legs
shaking, i’m afraid i’ll trip. although evening is falling, the city
circle is brighter than a summer’s day. an elevated seating
unit has been set up for prestigious guests, with the stylists
commanding the front row. the cameras will turn to them
when the crowd is reacting to their handiwork. a large balco-
ny off a building to the right has been reserved for the game-
makers. television crews have claimed most of the other bal-
conies. but the city circle and the avenues that feed into it are
completely packed with people. standing room only. at homes
and community halls around the country, every television set
is turned on. every citizen of panem is tuned in. there will be
no blackouts tonight.
caesar flickerman, the man who has hosted the interviews
for more than forty years, bounces onto the stage. it’s a little
scary because his appearance has been virtually unchanged
during all that time. same face under a coating of pure white
makeup. same hairstyle that he dyes a different color for each
hunger games. same ceremonial suit, midnight blue dotted
with a thousand tiny electric bulbs that twinkle like stars.
they do surgery in the capitol, to make people appear young-
er and thinner. in district 12, looking old is something of an
124
achievement since so many people die early. you see an elder-
ly person you want to congratulate them on their longevity,
ask the secret of survival. a plump person is envied because
they aren’t scraping by like the majority of us. but here it is
different. wrinkles aren’t desirable. a round belly isn’t a sign
of success.
this year, caesar’s hair is powder blue and his eyelids and
lips are coated in the same hue. he looks freakish but less
frightening than he did last year when his color was crimson
and he seemed to be bleeding. caesar tells a few jokes to
warm up the audience but then gets down to business.
the girl tribute from district 1, looking provocative in a
see-through gold gown, steps up the center of the stage to join
caesar for her interview. you can tell her mentor didn’t have
any trouble coming up with an angle for her. with that flowing
blonde hair, emerald green eyes, her body tall and lush . . .
she’s sexy all the way.
each interview only lasts three minutes. then a buzzer
goes off and the next tribute is up. i’ll say this for caesar, he
really does his best to make the tributes shine. he’s friendly,
tries to set the nervous ones at ease, laughs at lame jokes, and
can turn a weak response into a memorable one by the way he
reacts.
i sit like a lady, the way effie showed me, as the districts
slip by. 2, 3, 4. everyone seems to be playing up some angle.
the monstrous boy from district 2 is a ruthless killing ma-
chine. the fox-faced girl from district 5 sly and elusive. i spot-
ted cinna as soon as he took his place, but even his presence
125
cannot relax me. 8, 9, 10. the crippled boy from 10 is very
quiet. my palms are sweating like crazy, but the jeweled dress
isn’t absorbent and they skid right of if i try to dry them. 11.
rue, who is dressed in a gossamer gown complete with
wings, flutters her way to caesar. a hush falls over the crowd
at the sight of this magical wisp of a tribute. caesar’s very
sweet with her, complimenting her seven in training, an excel-
lent score for one so small. when he asks her what her great-
est strength in the arena will be, she doesn’t hesitate. “i’m
very hard to catch,” she says in a tremulous voice. “and if they
can’t catch me, they can’t kill me. so don’t count me out.”
“i wouldn’t in a million years,” says caesar encouragingly.
the boy tribute from district 11, thresh, has the same dark
skin as rue, but the resemblance stops there. he’s one of the
giants, probably six and a half feet tall and built like an ox, but
i noticed he rejected the invitations from the career tributes
to join their crowd. instead he’s been very solitary, speaking
to no one, showing little interest in training. even so, he
scored a ten and it’s not hard to imagine he impressed the
gamemakers. he ignores caesar’s attempts at banter and an-
swers with a yes or no or just remains silent.
if only i was his size, i could get away with sullen and hos-
tile and it would be just fine!
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