The Hunger Games

spin in a circle. The prep team screams in admiration.
    Cinna dismisses the team and has me move around in the dress and shoes, which are infinitely more manageable than Effie’s. The dress hangs in such a way that I don’t have to lift the skirt when I walk, leaving me with one less thing to worry about.
    “So, all ready for the interview then?” asks Cinna. I can see 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 matter what we tried, I couldn’t do it. I just can’t be one of those people he wants me to be,” I say.
    Cinna thinks about this a moment. “Why don’t you just be yourself?”
    “Myself? That’s no good, either. Haymitch says I’m sullen and hostile,” I say.
    “Well, you are . . . around Haymitch,” says Cinna with a grin. “I don’t find you so. The prep team adores you. You even won over the Gamemakers. And as for the citizens of the Capitol, well, they can’t stop talking about you. No one can help but admire your spirit.”
    My spirit. This is a new thought. I’m not sure exactly what it means, but it suggests I’m a fighter. In a sort of brave way. It’s not as if I’m never friendly. Okay, maybe I don’t go around loving everybody I meet, maybe my smiles are hard to come by, but I do care for some people.
    Cinna takes my icy hands in his warm ones. “Suppose, when you answer the questions, you think you’re addressing a friend back home. Who would your best friend be?” asks Cinna.
    “Gale,” I say instantly. “Only it doesn’t make sense, Cinna. I would never be telling Gale those things about me. 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 by far 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 other stylists. You’ll be able to look right at me. When you’re asked a question, find me, and answer it as honestly as possible,” says Cinna.
    “Even if what I think is horrible?” I ask. Because it might be, 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 a stage constructed in front of the Training Center. Once I leave my room, it will be only minutes until I’m in front of 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. “Just be yourself.”
    We meet up with the rest of the District 12 crowd at the elevator. 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 dressed identically. Haymitch and Effie are all fancied up for the occasion. I avoid Haymitch, but accept Effie’s compliments. Effie can be tiresome and clueless, but she’s not destructive like Haymitch.
    When the elevator opens, the other tributes are being lined up to take the stage. All twenty-four of us sit in a big arc throughout the interviews. I’ll be last, or second to last since the girl tribute precedes the boy from each district. How I wish I could be first and get the whole thing out of the way! Now I’ll have to listen to how witty, funny, humble, fierce, and charming everybody else is before I go up. Plus, the audience will start to get bored, just as the Gamemakers did. And I can’t exactly shoot an arrow into the crowd to get their attention.
    Right before we parade onto the stage, Haymitch comes up behind Peeta and me and growls, “Remember, you’re still 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, 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 relief 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