Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Hair - Elton

Elton

The interviewer's name is Khave and I've seen him on screen before. I've been planning my greeting for him for years, imagined the conversation that passes as an interview so many times. Three minutes is not a lot of time to demonstrate all my potential and I've practiced it over and over until it's so natural, so when Khave gives his blinding grin to Lux, gliding out onto the stage with Diamond dancing behind her, and asks her how it feels to be in the Capitol, I find myself answering out loud.

"It's great! The people, the ladies..."

"Nobody here cares, Elton!" Wake laughs, and prods me in the ribs. I clip him around the head, perhaps a bit stronger than normal but he deserves it. He's dressed almost exactly like me, only his shirt is dark green and he's nowhere near as dashing.

Out on stage Lux and Diamond are doing a good job of pretending to be best friends, but there's menace in the corners of their smiles. They're so similar that it's no surprise they hate each other. Both of them annoy me; Lux automatically made herself in charge just because her district partner is a failure and she doesn't seem to count Four as a Career district, and Diamond is just as bad, with the added benefit of looking like she hates everybody. Her district partner is slumped against the heavy velvet wings with his hair in front of his face, while his companion bobs up and down, mumbling answers to himself with no confidence whatsoever.

Venus looks good. Whoever her stylist is has done a great job because the slightly puffed hourglass shape gives her curves and somehow seems to smooth over her awkwardness. Her hair is coiled into two plaits around her ears and sprinkled with black dust. I've always thought that lanky girls shouldn't wear black but it works. Chase is dressed to match but it's obvious that Venus is supposed to be the centre of attention. Jealousy stabs at me; so Wake and I are equals, are we?

Behind me, there's a sharp thud and everybody turns to look. The slightly daft boy from Eight, the one who doesn't seem quite with it, is face down on the floor and rocking with laughter. Strange child. He doesn't stand a chance, and he's getting dust all over his silk shirt. "The floor look like it needed a hug!" he shouts through his laughter.

"Whoops!" calls the girl behind him, who is still wearing that hideous red cap and goes back to twirling around, watching her dress spin with a giddy smile.

Her district partner looks stressed and I don't blame him.

"I could ruin this for you," a female voice grumbles. Wake pulls his 'uh-oh' face, even though I've told him a dozen times that it makes him look like a girl. It sounds like Claymore is getting his ear chewed off again. The District Two stylists are clearly pretty lazy because they've dressed the other two to match Venus and Chase, except it'd be plain even to Twelve that the puffy style would look ridiculous on the girl so instead her dress is floor length and twists elegantly around her slim frame. Her hair has been curled and probably crackles when she moves, there’s probably that much spray on it. Someone has slicked Claymore's hair back off his face, which does him the world of good. I'd still rather have my quiff.

I pat it gingerly to check that it's still in place. It should be; I can keep it in place at home and my stylists have plastered it in sweet-smelling oils and gels until it feels like one open flame will set me alight.

It'd make an impression. Still, it’s been done before.

My quiff is fine, my shirt – my favourite deep blue – a few buttons open and rolled up casually to the elbows. I am looking good.

I give Ade a wink, the sort that usually drives the girls back home a bit crazy whether they’re spoken for or not. She just raises an eyebrow at me, obviously disapproving, but I don’t care whether she thinks I’m being patronising or not. She’s told me that enough times.