Flirts and Interviews

"You stay right here," Effie ordered Haymitch over her shoulder as she led Elowen and Ramon toward the stage steps. Haymitch rolled his eyes carelessly, then saluted her in a mocking gesture. The black silk of his tailored suit reflected under the bright lightbulb.

The staircase, a narrow long corridor of coal-black walls, was crowded with tributes. They all wore dazzling outfits, probably worth more than their families would ever own. Effie was happy for them and the honor they had of enjoying these moments of lavish lifestyles. Some of the children, but especially the girls from the wealthier Districts, seemed to thrive in it: their wide eyes shone with joy and their wiry bodies made the dresses, glamorous makeup and unusual hairstyles shine. The vast amounts of gold, silver and diamonds could captivate you if you were willing to pay the price. Everything in the Capitol had a price. However, the price Effie had to pay was much less than twenty-three of the children standing in front of her had to pay.

Effie turned to her own tributes. The two of them had already joined the others, who were all standing in a long line behind each other. Some of them were arguing in a nervous, agitated tone about who should stand where. Effie's children stood a little to the side. That was one of the few privileges of being from District 12. You didn't belong to the middle, which was neither a career District nor an outsider. District 12 might be an outsider, but you always remembered the last ones.

Elowen's dress sparkled in the dim light of the foyer, which fell not far into the hallway that led to the stage entrance. This part of the backstage area reminded Effie of her time in the school theater, where she had often spent the last few minutes before her scenes in such a hallway, hammering the lines of her script into her head. The girl's hands were clenched into fists and small beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

"Mark my words, both of you," Effie reminded them, giving them one last, intense look. Her eyes roamed over her competition. Several other escorts also stood next to their tributes, giving them one last piece of advice. "If the Capitol has not had you on its radar yet, now is your time to change that."

There was no time for more. Loud music played, the intro to the show began and then Caesar's voice rang out through the speakers. He was in a celebratory mood and needed only seconds to get the audience in the mood for the next two hours. His mood had always been infectious over the years.

"I wish you the best of luck!" The golden Cashmere, who climbed the stage with confident steps, was the last thing Effie saw before she turned around and made her way back to Haymitch.

Back in the main backstage area, Effie needed a moment to find her mentor again. The area had now emptied a bit. Many teams had moved to the screens, and if they had seats in the audience, they were now slowly taking them. It wouldn't be long before Cashmere took the stage, and the interviews would officially begin.

Haymitch, of course, had not remained where Effie had told him to. He had wandered off to a small group of victors who were engaged in friendly, casual conversation at the edge of the screen. Chaff had joined him, and next to him stood a tiny, bony woman who seemed familiar to Effie, but who she couldn't put a name to at the moment. Haymitch seemed more at ease in the presence of the two of them than she had ever seen him.

Effie suppressed a sigh at the thought of catching up with them. Haymitch didn't seem to be the most representative victor, so her experience in dealing with ordinary victor was zero. Although Chaff's behavior couldn't exactly be described as normal either, Effie thought as she remembered the kiss he had forced on her in a stormy, unpredictable movement. The thought alone made her cheeks blush with anger.

Of course, the three victors fell silent as soon as Effie came within earshot. None of them had shown any sign of noticing her, but they were immediately aware of her presence. Effie couldn't help but twist her lips into a dissatisfied line. Chaff, who seemed to be watching her every move closely, seemed surprisingly sober. Even from television, she knew him at least drunk. Or was it simply because she saw him more often with her status as an escort? The alcohol didn't seem to affect his humor, because a broad grin crept across his face as Effie stopped next to him.

Effie refused to let her lack of experience get in the way. She put on her mild, outgoing mask before Haymitch and the small victor could turn to face her. She then greeted the three victors politely, making sure to keep a decent distance from the group so as not to appear intrusive or even harsh. Chaff could only grin wider at her attempt to follow Capitol etiquette as closely as possible.

"I do not mean to interrupt, Haymitch," Effie said in a smooth voice, but with a barely audible prescriptive tone that made it clear that that was exactly her intention. "But the interviews will begin in a few moments. I think it would be wise to take our seats now."

Haymitch looked at her with raised eyebrows. He probably wondered why she suddenly started talking to him like that. It was only natural that they should treat each other differently in public than they did behind closed doors or in moments when no strangers were there to overhear. "We can watch them from back here."

"That is not possible," Effie snorted, embarrassed, and looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "I am definitely not going to watch our tributes' interviews from some anteroom."

"Of course not," Haymitch muttered. "The cameras will not see you otherwise." The young victor rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance, but pointed his hand toward the exit to let her know that he would follow her. He didn't notice the serious look that Chaff and the bony woman exchanged as he nodded at them one last time and then followed on their heels. Effie, however, noticed and wondered what it meant.

"Who was the woman?" Effie asked Haymitch as soon as they left the backstage area. The corridors of the television studio were deserted. Everyone had somewhere to be now that the show was about to start.

"Mags Flanagan, victor from Four." Now Effie knew why she had forgotten her name. Mags Flanagan had won the Games long before she had been born. She wanted to ask if Mags and Haymitch had been friends for a long time, considering her time as mentors for District 4, but somehow the question seemed inappropriate. Haymitch didn't like talking about his past anyway, so why should he give her a sensible answer?

The audience room resembled an opera house. Above the parquet where the District teams and the common people who could afford the entry sat, there were several levels of boxes. Gold-colored figures and patterns adorned the balconies of the viewing platforms, and cozy wine-red chairs lined the hall. Effie wished she and Haymitch could take a seat on one of the small terraces. The view would be much better from there, avoiding the need to peer around strangers' hats and elaborately styled wigs, and it would be quicker to return backstage after the interviews. However, the boxes were reserved only for the most influential Capitol residents.

A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a yellow-golden light onto the audience below. The chandelier was purely decorative, as modern lights would replace it once the show began. The audience had mostly assembled already. It was rare for Effie to shudder at the sight of people's haphazardly combined clothes. Yet here in this old-fashioned room, colors like orange, purple, pink, or green seemed out of place. It was as if wearing white to a funeral; one stood out. Of course, it was intentional. Few cared if their expensive designer outfits matched the studio's style, having waited a whole season to once again present their most exclusive masterpieces to the press. As a former architecture student, Effie couldn't help but pause at the sight. Then she looked down at herself. Her cherry blossom-colored dress was equally mismatched with the interior tones.

"Are you going to stand there forever?" Haymitch threw her an impatient glance and gestured towards the front rows, where seats were reserved for the Games' teams. She recognized some of the escorts she had met at the annual, and for her first, meeting of escorts. Most of them were models looking to redirect their careers. The Hunger Games were the event in the Capitol, and the number of escorts was limited to twelve. Once one became an escort, virtually all doors in the Capitol opened.

Effie just nodded and then walked past Haymitch without meeting his eyes. Their seats were at the edge of the fourth row and Effie sighed inwardly. She had hoped for a seat in the middle of the hall. From there you wouldn't have to crane your neck to watch the characters on the stage.

As Effie made her way to her seat and slowly sank into the chair, her fingers released from Haymitch's upper arm, which she had been clutching. She hadn't even noticed she had hooked onto him in the first place; it must have been an automatic gesture. The press would like it, so Effie was fine with it. However, she couldn't help but throw him a furtive sidelong glance as he took his place beside her. Considering Haymitch had doubted her intentions toward him on the way to the studios, he seemed surprisingly unaffected now.

The television broadcast hadn't yet begun, but Caesar was already bantering with the audience on stage, making an effort to transfer his cheerfulness to them. Effie glanced at the clock. It would start any second now, confirmed by a quick look at the cameras scattered throughout the hall. Preparations were complete; the camera lenses focused on their respective areas, and the director gave the thumbs-up to the famous host.

Effie used this moment to adjust her dress and straighten her back. The camera's image would scrutinize her several times tonight, so she needed to make a good impression. Her mother would dissect every wrong move over the phone tomorrow, and next week she would call again with a disappointed tone to recount what her friends had said about her at their weekly brunch. For a fraction of a second, the young woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Eyes bright, chins up, smiles on. Show them all. Someone from afar, likely the director, began counting down from ten.

Effie's eyelids fluttered, and as soon as the countdown reached zero, she forced a broad smile onto her face. A wave of applause thundered around her as the stage lights changed colors and Caesar opened his mouth in an exuberant gesture, waving to the next camera. Effie didn't hesitate as she was swept along by the torrent of applause. She continued clapping even as the insides of her hands began to ache. But that didn't matter. All that counted in that moment was delivering a stellar performance for her family. They were the ones she needed to impress today. Effie felt she had already won over the rest of Panem.

Caesar's sunflower-yellow suit shimmered even more intensely under the bright stage lights than it had backstage moments ago. It reminded Effie of a color filter used in media and online to make advertisements more enticing. Few managed to maintain the luster of advertising in reality.

Effie turned her head to the side to make sure Haymitch wasn't out of line with ignorant behavior. He had a habit of ignoring the Capitol's values just when it mattered. But like the day they had arrived at the Capitol, he surprised her. Just like backstage, Haymitch had leaned back casually in his chair, swinging one leg over the other in a careless gesture so that his right shoe was resting on his left knee. He was clapping. Not as intensely as the people around them, but he was clapping, nonetheless. And he was looking at her. His dark gray eyes were fixed on Effie, watching her. His expression was serious, as if he was clapping for something he didn't really like. The moment Effie's eyes met his, a small smile crept onto his lips.

The sight of him sent a chill down her neck. Looking at Haymitch's face was as if someone had pushed her over the edge of a steep cliff and, with luck, she had fallen into icy water instead of crashing into the rocks: she had escaped what she thought was certain death, but the cold of the water could kill her in a much slower, more painful way if she wasn't careful.

Haymitch looked handsome, Effie couldn't deny it. The suit wrapped around him like a second, perfectly fitting skin. His blond hair was neatly combed and styled. His appearance was confident and classic at the same time and if Effie hadn't known him, she might have mistaken him for a Capitol. A young entrepreneur who was ready to put everything on the line and yet had nothing to lose. At that moment, he fit so well into her own world that the smile she had wanted to return froze on her lips. That thought was exactly what he didn't want. Haymitch didn't want to be associated with the Capitol. Even if she didn't understand why. Even if, according to his own statement, he was forced to be associated with the Capitol once a year. You didn't want to hear the truth. He would have told you. Effie hadn't changed her mind. She didn't want to know the truth.

Haymitch didn't seem to notice he was the focus of Effie's thoughts. His grin widened as his gaze fell on her dress. "Be honest, you just wanted to sit here so everyone could see that monster."

There was no insult in the way he said the words. Gentle and teasing. It finally drew a smile from Effie, which he returned in a way that warmed her heart as she looked into his eyes that seemed to be made of liquid silver. "For once, that is not the case. I am here for the children."

It was the truth. Effie hoped that some of Elowen's nervousness would fall away when she saw Effie in the audience. In the past few days, she had managed to motivate the girl with her presence or a few reassuring words to keep going and not give up.

Except for the golden Cashmere from District 1, who was already being talked about as the favorite, the interviews weren't particularly unusual. Gloss had prepared her well for Caesar's questions and after just a few answers from her, it was clear that she knew exactly how to wrap the people in the Capitol around her little finger. She was eloquent, charming and humorous. Not too loud, not too provocative; she danced a perfect dance on the edge. And of course she was also very beautiful. Honey-colored hair, the sparkling golden dress; it wasn't long before she was just called the golden girl.

Even Magnus, the male tribute from her District, was lost in the fuss that was being made about Cashmere. The fact that she seemed almost perfect, and her brother Gloss had won the Games just last year made it difficult for the other competitors to stand out from the crowd of children and present themselves as unique. The career tributes from the wealthier Districts had an advantage due to their training that they could use in the arena, but rumors said that Cashmere was adept with any weapon that had a blade. She hadn't gotten her 9 in training for nothing.

The evening blurred before Effie's eyes into a time-lapse of bright colors, laughter and stage fright. Part of her was glad that each new tribute that took the stage seemed hardly more interesting than the one before. There was nothing special, just memorized texts, little authenticity and shaky voices from the youngest children. Everyone delivered a passable, but not particularly striking performance.

"Don't think ours will fare any better," Haymitch whispered in her ear amid a wave of applause as the male tribute from District 11 stumbled off the stage.

Effie ignored his words and struggled to keep her cheerful face. The boy from 11 had been awful. He had stammered out his answers, mumbling and barely managing a smile. Instead, his wide brown eyes had darted around the room in a wild look, like a cut-off animal looking for an escape route. Chaff had certainly not tried hard. "We taught them for two days. I know they will master it."

Haymitch stifled a laugh, for the seats around them had stopped clapping. Every word he said would be carried within earshot. He hesitated for a second and Effie tilted her head ever so slightly in his direction to look at him. A look of agony flashed across his face and Effie instinctively flinched away at the sight. She couldn't help it, for Haymitch rarely showed emotion. He hadn't expected to be watched, for when he noticed Effie's flinch, his face closed. He turned away from her and grimly stared at Caesar, who at that moment called Elowen onto the stage.

"Remember what I told you, Effie," Haymitch whispered as a new wave of applause erupted in the crowd. Effie had to lean forward to hear him. "If you're not careful, she'll break your heart."

It took Effie a few seconds to understand the meaning of his words. An icy chill crept up her spine and she suddenly shivered, even though it was almost swelteringly warm in the midst of all those people. But Effie's smile didn't waver for a second as the image of a lifeless child's body appeared in her mind's eye. So much depended on this performance today. It could decide whether Elowen would attract sponsors and thus increase her chances of survival. It was a matter of life and death. Elowen couldn't fail, otherwise Effie would fail too.

-

Hello everyone,

I hope you liked the chapter, even if it was more of a transitional chapter. The next chapter will have the interviews. How will Elowen and Ramon do in the interviews? Will they be able to stand up to Cashmere and be remembered? Will Elowen break Effie's heart or will Effie come to her senses when the Games start?

Check out my Pinterest if you want to know how I imagine the outfits of the characters! My name there is ccskyllen.

As always, I'm curious to hear your thoughts!

Skyllen :)