Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Stage - Palmer

Palmer

Backstage is chaos. Even though there's only three districts left, there's still Avoxes and stylists running around like colourful ants. Mentors trudge up and down with their brows furrowed. There's no sign of Pip, which is probably for the best. The woman who won for Twelve a while back is clinging to the material of the wings and keeps looking sharply over her shoulder. She looks in a worse state than her tributes. Both of them are dressed in black, like they are every year. And just like every year, it strikes me as unfortunate for them. Families of tributes wear black. To be honest, it's usually closer to grey, but it's the thought that counts.

Birdie is crying, again. She seems to be in tears constantly. I've got sick of trying to say things to cheer her up, especially when I'm not exactly Mr. Sunshine right now. Sure, she's young and it's sad but this happens every year. And this year it's happened to her and me. There's no point bawling about it.

Liam is losing it already. I don't dare to look around in case I accidentally catch his eye and he attacks me. The rest of the group from Thirteen are trying to soothe him but it doesn't sound very effective. Out on stage, the boy from Ten is shuffling awkwardly in the chair while his friend jokes away with Khave. Neither of them really look up to much; hopefully the Careers have spotted that. If they can even be bothered with the likes of us.

Everybody else looks like they're lined up in front of the Peacekeepers, waiting to find out if they'll be whipped or shot. I feel like the odd one out, with the small thrills of excitement running through me. I knew I was destined for something bigger. And so what if it's the Games? It's more than home, anyway. More than scampering through the trees picking fruit.

Everything is bobbing up and down a little and it takes me a moment to work out that this is because I am. The lights look viciously bright but they can't be much brighter than the sun back home. Still, Khave is still sweating slightly. I bet he hasn't spent a day outside in the sun before; he looks pale enough.

I am not nervous. I am not nervous. Compared to the weight of tomorrow, this is nothing. Just formality. It doesn't matter what I say because nobody out there will be paying attention. The other tributes don't care about everybody else's interviews; we've spent three days glaring at each other - and in my case, trying to wind them up - so we already know each other. And most people are playing different in the interview anyway. The girl from Eight was muttering lines right up until she went out onto stage.

I haven't got any lines. I can't recite things. We tried in interview training but I've never been good at remembering. I search my brain but there's not even a hint of my training score. Five is the first thing that jumps to mind but that's Birdie's, I think, not mine, because I was surprised that she’d obviously done more than sit in a corner and cry. I can barely even remember what I did. The stylists were squeaking about paint so I think I did camouflage, like when I surprised grain boy. Flax. He was a grumpy one, didn’t even say hello. At least the others did that, after they'd got over the shock of a tree apparently talking to them.

I grin just remembering it, but the grin is quickly wiped from my face when one of my terrifying prep team flutters over, trailing feathers from her idiotic fake wings.

"Palmer!" she squeals. "Palmer, where's Jenny? She's forgotten her headpiece..."

The piece of metal that she's wearing doesn't look like a headpiece. It looks like some kind of elaborate Capitol torture device, with twisting little golden curls all over it. I immediately change my mind on my outfit; I’ve been lucky. My hair has been attacked until it lies almost smooth, sticking to my skull, but at least I don’t have to wear one of those things.

Actually, where is Jenny? I haven't seen her since we got here. For the first time I feel a small stab of guilt for not just asking Pip to write Francis' name instead. But Francis is an only child and his family need him and besides, if I don't make it back alive, someone has to keep some awesome in Eleven.