No Peace for the Wicked

When I woke that morning I felt dreadful. Today was interviews. And what will they think of my score? Caesar Flickerman announced it, so he’ll know. And I’d bet you that it’s big since about every Career (except for District Three, at times) get a score 8-10. If they get higher, it’s a broadcast. If it’s lower, it’s a broadcast. And I’ve gotten both. So now I’m dead. But, if I can work up some charm, I guess that’s a start, but hopefully Caesar will forget?

The interviews start early, so I get a move on. Its 7: 13, and I have to see my stylist at 7:30. I rush, and I see four people. “Um . . . you’re early.” One of them says. “You’ll have to come back.”

“Just fix me up!” I said, sounding paranoid. They obeyed and started plucking. It started hurting when they plucked an eye brow, and I yelled, “Stop!” They looked at me confused and just kept TORTURING me. After they finished, they told me I could see Cratscoa. My stylist. I walked down the hall, and into the room. “Hey.” I said. I didn’t know what to say, because I really didn’t know what I could do. But I really don’t think I can act like I did this before – I have, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous the second time.

“I’ve got your dressed fixed up already!” he grinned, “Can you try it on?” I nodded and he handed me a dress that was blue. I put the dress on, and I will say it was pretty. The dress was poofy, but it looked so . . . normal. Not weird, like the Capitol. Not too fancy. It was perfect in a way words can’t describe. I came out of the dressing room, and his eyes lit up. “You look wonderful!” I could feel my cheeks turn red as he said that. “Here.” He said. He handed me blue pearls, and he put them on.

“You’re ready to go.” He said. “Just . . . act normal.” I grinned at him, and I walked to where the tributes were waiting. Not all of them were there, but most of the Careers were. I was surprised to not see Ren – but what can I say? I sat in the seat that had my name engraved on it. I sat beside Maaden, and that wasn’t pleasant. Carmella was wearing a pink dress with lots of flowers, and silver on the sides. Bathlela, from District Three, was wearing a purple dress that was short, and was tight around her. I sat there, mainly because I was waiting for the tributes, and the silence was most defiantly awkward. Ren came, and sat next to me. “Hey.” he looked at Carmella, who was beside Maaden, and Maaden was beside me. “I’d expect you two to be fighting.” He said. Carmella shot an angry look at him, and he just shrugged. Carmella and him weren’t technically friends – but not as bad as me and Carmella.

“Maaden made a barrier.” I replied softly. My stomach tensed up as they called Carmella up, meaning that it was starting. Because I’m district Two, I’m pretty early. It would suck to be District One, but they all say District One’s are brave. Mainly because a lot of them get famous. And Carmella is used to that stuff, because she’s called “blondie” back in district one. How to I know? I get a magazine from every District. I remember her Games, and she wasn’t nice. She used people, then killed them. I never liked her much. You could just guess Isile’s opinion on that subject.

“So,” Caesar began, “Are you excited to go back again?”

“Yes! All of my fans out there, you’re amazing! And I will win for you guys!” she smiled, but I can’t imagine what they’d do if they knew how fake that was. She’s pretty fake. I guess everyone is because they have to act charming, and loving of their fans. But then they go into the games and murder . . . so what’s the point?

“Well, if you did win, what could happen back home?” he asked.

Carmella smiled. “I’d just get flooded with popularity! I’m already ‘Blondie’ back home! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes! Well I’ve had a spectacular time with you, Miss Carmella.” He stood up. “Crowd for Carmella Watson!” they cheered, and Carmella went off stage, and whispered something in Maaden’s ear. Maaden got to his interview.

“Maaden.” He said. “You really had a show last year, didn’t you?”

Maaden smiled. “Yes. Last Games was successful, and I expect this year’s to be as well.” He said, in a sly type way, which made the crowd “oo”. Maaden had just been annoying last year, but you’ve got to give him credit for thinking up that, I mean, it was pretty smart, but still annoying. They all love him now because he did that, which made him look all smart, so he’s going to get sponsors.

“And you like strategy, right?” Caesar asked.

He grinned, “Yes.” The crowd cheered, and I could tell Maaden knew that he’d get sponsors. It was pretty hard to overcome that.

“Anything special you’d like to say to the crowd before leaving?”

“What can I say? HAPPY HUNGER GAMES!” He yelled. He trotted off stage, and was smiling. I wanted to protest, but, it wasn’t worth my time, and I’m next.

My name was called, and I went onto the stage.

“Loren, how are you?” he asked.

I smiled, “I’m quite happy, what about you?” I asked. I didn’t know what to say: and all I had was knots in my stomach, but I tried to sound confident, but it felt impossible.

“Good, good. Now, what would you think if you won this year’s games?” it was an automatic question, and I could tell he was eager. Since last year, people are bugging me about what I’d do if I won again. But, I can’t escape the stupid question now. Why do they care? It’s my life, not theirs. I guess I’m what you consider “internationally popular” because I’m known in every District for mostly bad things.

“I’d think how good of an opportunity.” My brain spun. I’m supposed to say ‘I will win!’ for the fans. “I will win!” I said. “For all of you fans that are kind enough to vote for me! You all are beautiful people.” They aren’t, but I must say that, so I can get sponsors. I hate lying, but this time, its life or death. And, the crowd will agree to almost anything, and I’m sure I have some fans out there wanting me to win. My family. My friends. Random people.

“Anything else?” Caesar asked.

“Have a wonderful day to you and the whole Capitol!” I smiled. It went pretty well, and I headed back to the apartment. I think I went too fast off stage because I almost stumbled, but I was off-camera, luckily.

Asada was there, and I said hi. “You did really well.” He said. “It was perfect! You didn’t look scared!” I was surprised because I felt nervous, and everyone can tell if I am nervous, let me tell you that. So that surprised me. But it’s a good thing because the more confident, the better for the fans out there.

I brushed it off. “Not really.” I said. “You could tell what I was doing. I was trying to get sponsors and you and the tributes could tell.” I tried to say normally.

“It doesn’t matter what they think! It’s what the people think!” he had a point, but my point still stood.

“What time is it?” I asked, trying to forget what had happened.

“I have no idea.” He looked at his watch. “Noon.”

“Noon!?” I asked. It couldn’t have gone by that fast! But you know. Everything goes by fast, except if someone’s torturing you . . .

“Yes.”

I still wasn’t sure if he was joking, but I called up lunch. We had chicken, and that was my idea, mainly because Ren ALWAYS chooses what we eat, and he likes Chinese food. (…?) I’m sick of that food. Ren got back, and he ate, but kept complaining.

“Ren!” I said. “You never let me pick! Shut up about the stupid leg!” he really pisses me off.

“It’s too dry!” he said. “Food isn’t supposed to be dry. When my family—”

“SHUT UP!” I yelled. “God, you should enjoy it. Tomorrow you’re going to have breakfast, then who knows what? You’re going to be in the games.” I said.

“Well I’d like to have good food before I go into the Games. And you know that prissy.”

I just wanted to nail him in the nose, but I saved that. I’ll see him in the Games. I’ll get my chance.

I kept myself busy by training. And I trained until 8:00. Asada walked in, and looked worried. “Calm down.” He said. “I’m worried about you. You should tire yourself before the games.”

I threw a knife to the target, “I’m fine.” I said.

“It’s eight. Go to bed.” He said, like he owned me. I knew he was being protective, but it wasn’t going to work, I just need to train. He knows tomorrow is the games.

“Eight o’ clock?” I asked. “Nine.” I insisted.

“Go!” I obeyed and I trotted upstairs. It’s no use fighting with him, because he’ll make a strong point, and then make your point all looking simple. I saw him do that with Ren. I got my p-jay’s on, and I laid down.

I thought about my dangers. Which pretty much is everyone, now. I guess last year I thought I could get the award most enemies. This year is, though.

Carmella:
She hates me.
Danger level:
9/10.

Maaden:
We’ve never ever been close
And I messed his cycle up.
Danger level:
8/10.

Galen:
I killed his girlfriend.
Danger level:
7 of 8/10 (he’s young.)

There are many others. What Ren says still haunts me – and Ren hates me. Well, not exactly. He’s warmed up a bit. I just can’t get on his nerves in the morning. But Carmella is a threat. Any chance she’ll get. Maaden, I’m not sure. He’s really making himself look sly, and he is, so how could I know? Galen, I haven’t seen much of him but I’m sure he’s not bad at killing tactics. Walin and Makaya from District four. I have no idea. I’ve kept my distance. But they aren’t quite the trustiest. District five, I really don’t know . . . but I’d keep away. Kyjuan really freaks me out. I don’t know with him, because he hasn’t issued that he doesn’t like me, but I’m sure he’d kill me like anyone else if he got the chance.

I have no cover. I don’t know why I’m wasting my time. If someone gets the chance: they’ll kill me. It’s not like the games: it’s harder. All of them have been trained, and somehow won once before. That’s why President Snow did that. Because it was so horrid. I’ve watched other Quarter Quell’s and they’re more violent than the games; let me put it at that. But I really don’t think I’m the material, if you know what I mean. I mean that I’m not the fighting type. Put Isile there, she’ll enjoy every second of it.

I just wish I could say goodbye and ‘I’m sorry’ to her. I feel like I failed her. But I haven’t. I’ve won once before, and there is a chance I could win again. But chances aren’t towards me, the GameMakers insured that because of my score, and president Snow insured that because of what he did in the first place himself.

But I’ve got to say, Maaden’s got a small chance as well. But I just wish that he couldn’t have gotten me into the mess. It’s still his fault, anyway. But there’s no way I can go back in time and just kill him. It’s not real for me.

I’m with the Careers, but that makes me wonder even more if I’m safe around people that HATE ME SO MUCH! I guess I’ll have to see tomorrow, because that’s what will happen.