Hazel

I bite my lip and focus on the soft green carpet below my feet, lightly covered in the golden auroras of the setting sun. My grip on the armrest of the sofa I'm sharing with Diamond and my prep team tightens even more, making my hand turn white.

Right now, Liam Malice, the announcer with that crazy spiky pink hair and cosmetically altered huge eyes, which makes him look like a stupid anime cartoon, is-Duh!-announcing the scores we tributes have received during our private training sessions with the gamemakers. When it was my turn, I chucked some knives and ran around the whole area, hiding and hitting dummies every once in a while. Hopefully, the people were impressed enough to give me at least a five. I totally can't look vulnerable, or the Careers will get me for sure.

All the Career tributes have gotten scores ranging from an 8 to a 10, and although the highest rating you can get is 12, practically no one has beaten a 10 before.

Liam just revealed Alex's score, a 6, when he clears his throat. "And finally, we have Hazel Slivers," An image of my face shows up on the screen in front of us. "Who has received..." At this, Lavender and Lark both lean in hungrily. "A seven!"

A 7? Well, that's not too bad. In fact, not bad at all, considering that the girl from 5 only managed a 4, while the boy from 7 got a 3. Now I, the tiny, thin girl from District 12, won't be on the top of the Careers' kill list! At least for the first couple days.

Everyone else must be thinking the same thing, for Diamond nods at me in approval, while Zap and Lark smother me in huge hugs. Lavender, however, is frowning nervously, a bead of sweat dripping down her pale forehead. I wonder why?

-

Now it's time to practice for the interviews. Great. I'm first assigned for Lavender to help me walk around in heels, dresses, and all the horrid fancy attire that I'm supposed to wear at my interviews. I still don't understand why the tributes are dolled up so prettily, when their death can be less than twenty-four hours away.

Lavender has me shove on a heavy, ridiculously neon pink gown that drags around on the floor as I stumble around in horrid six-inch heels, which I constantly trip over with grunts of annoyance.

"Hold still," She snaps. "Raise your chin up and smile." I snort and do what she says in a mockingly exaggerating way, then actually try to do it the correct way since I need some sponsors, and maybe I can get them with a little elegancy. My escort must be thinking the same thing, for she grins and chirps, "That's more like it!"

Unfortunately, that's when I trip over my heels, my face smacking onto the cold wooden floor. I groan and scramble up.

After a few more minutes, Lavender sighs and says, "Very well, dearie." She tucks a strand of her wig behind one ear, beckoning for me to follow her into a closet in the room. She lowers her voice to a whisper that I think is the quietest a loud, bustling Capitol person can get. "Hazel, you don't remember having parents, do you?"

I shake my head in response, frowning. "Why are you asking me this? Is it like you're related to me, or what?"

As soon as I say that, Lavender's face turns even paler than it actually is, then her cheeks heat up. That is when I realize that she actually is my kin.

"Listen, Hazel," She whisper-shouts in her bizarre accent. "When I was auditioning for the job of a Hunger Games escort, I needed to come to District Twelve with the former escort to see what it's like. There, I fell in love with you father, Thomas Slivers, who soon died in a mining accident. Unfortunately, I was pregnant with you, and I soon had you. However, the rules for being an escort is that you can never fall in love or marry, and if you become the victor of these Games, they will do a blood scan and all that on you, which will show that I am your mother. But then they will fire me for not following the law, so please Hazel. You. Can't. Win."

All I can do is stand there in shock, until I've finally figured out what Lavender said: I can't win the Hunger Games. I have to die.

I open my mouth to say something like, "No way, you're kidding me," but all that comes out of my mouth is air. That's when I feel Poppy's bracelet on my wrist. No, she might be devastated if I die. In fact, all of District Twelve may be, for my district has never had a victor over the course of thirty-six years, and I doubt Alex can win. Worst of all, this horrible Capitol lady is making me die just so she can keep her silly little job.

My face turns red. "NO!" I yell, making Lavender jump back in shock. She hits the closet door with a thud and the door flies open so that she gets flung out on the floor, which might have been funny to watch, but my anger takes over.

"NO!" I repeat again. "You will not make me die in these Games just because you'll keep your stupid job. I have feelings you know, and people who love me, and I WILL NOT GET KILLED to save your reputation. If you're truly my mom, then you'd be caring enough to sacrifice yourself for my life. And do you have any idea how hard it was for me to survive before I went to the orphanage? It was horrid! I can, and I shall win the Thirty-seventh Hunger Games, because I have people at home who actually love me."

With that, I storm out the room, only to crash into Diamond.

Now, my mentor will be "helping" me pick out an angle to play during the interviews. Fortunately, I already picked one, the small-but-tough one I wore during the chariot parade. We decide that I'll be doing the same thing at my interview with Liam Malice.

A couple hours later, Lark and my prep team come and prepare my interview outfit. Zap, Glam, and Vector do my hair and makeup, before Lark gently slips my dress on, steering me towards a mirror.

My interview outfit is quite similar to my chariot outfit, yet different. It's a long black dress with a sparkly top, adorned by a silky skirt that opens up at my knee areas to show off my legs. But what sparks me the most is the way the skirt flows and twirls when I walk around. It almost seems like smoke. Or... coal dust. My eyelids are lightly dusted with silver eyeshadow, while bronze blush covers my cheeks. My nails are like the ones before, black with silver designs, and my hair is loosely braided over my shoulder, woven with silver threads.

My prep team claps and cheers as they escort me down an elevator, into a hall that leads to a stage, where some other tributes are waiting to be interviewed. Since I'm from District 12, I'm one of the last people to go.

Soon, District 1's girl tribute is up above the roaring audience, a confident smile on her face. She's pretty, no doubt, but when District 4's interviews come around, Lily, the tribute I met at training, easily beats her with her sparkling sea green eyes, flowing dress, and confident attitude, or at least angle. Then, there's Mackenzie, adorned in an elaborate golden dress, who is playing the viewpoint of a sweet, charming princess who desperately needs to get home for her loved ones. Aspen also receives lots of attention when he states that he has to save his sister, Olive, and send her safely home.

Finally, it's my turn. As I walk up to Liam, I don't hold my skirt the way Lavender shows me or raise my chin. I need to stand out from the other tributes, I need to get sponsors to like me. However, I do wave towards the audience, smiling.

"So Hazel, I first want to ask you, what was your reaction to the seven you received in training?" Liam asks as I sit down.

"Well, I'm sure that'll totally boost up my chances of surviving these terrible Games," I respond, grinning mischievously. "Those tributes will not kill me as easily as they think they can, and I have some tricks up my sleeves."

This leads to a cheer from a blue-haired lady up at the front, which spreads across the whole crowd like a wildfire.

"I certainly think so," Liam returns. "You don't seem afraid at all, do you?"

"Of course I'm afraid," I say, then raise an eyebrow. "But I know that I can at least survive a couple days. So right now in the Capitol, I'm just going to sit back and enjoy the chocolate cake."

"Yes, I can already imagine that, and I hear our cake is very delicious," The interviewer laughs. "Am I right, folks?" His ridiculous smile grows even larger as the wildly dressed Capitol citizens cheer.

When they grow quiet, Liam clears his throat. "Well, we're running out of time, Ms. Slivers, which brings me on to my last question. Is there anyone back at home who you love?"

This stumps me so much that I have to sit there like a statue a few seconds before answering. "Yes, yes there is a person back at home."

"And who is it?"

"Who is it?" I snort and roll my eyes. "You're asking me who this person is? Are you really saying that you're wondering if they're gonna grieve deeply if I die? Is that what you're asking?"

"Well-"

I cut him off with a sweet and almost sincere smile. "To answer that, I won't die. I will be the victor of the Thirty-seventh Hunger Games, and there is no holding me back now."