Nothing Personal

District Twelve Interviews

Court flounced to the front of the stage, her dress train bobbing behind her. Her stylist had obviously decided to play on her vaguely feral nature and she was wearing a tan coloured floor length dress, ripped and torn in strategic places, and her hair was artistically ruffled until it looked like she'd been caught outside in a tornado. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her eyes glinted dangerously.

"Hi," she snapped as she dropped into the chair.

"Hi!" chirped Martina in return. Court glared at her so viciously that she dropped the friendly tone. It looked like the girl had never been spoken to kindly in her life. She'd heard rumours, whispered on the wind, about the girl's life; apparently the Capitol district spies who went around snooping after tributes hadn't been able to find her place of residence. It appeared that she was homeless and fended for herself.

Martina knew that most of these rumours weren't to be believed. There were some uncomfortable whispers surrounding the twins and Megan was the subject of some vicious gossip which revolved around her torturing her father after he told her to put on a coat to go outside. But she was inclinced to believe the rumours about Court.

"So, Court, how does it feel to be here?" she asked.

"How do you think?" the girl snapped back. A few of the other tributes nodded, including Megan and Sebastian.

"Stupid question!" shouted Austin. Taylor hushed him quickly with an apologetic smile at the crowd.

"Fair enough..." began Martina, but Court cut over her.

"I've had a crap life," she snapped, "Unlike this bunch of saps, I've got nothing to win for. Okay, so I get a house, some money if I do. I've got no family to help out. All I've ever done is fend for myself. So that won't make a difference if I do it in a house or in a forest. So to be up here, well, at least I know that I'm doing some good for that poor girl who would have been here otherwise. That's all I can say about that."

Silence. Somebody at the back of the square sneezed and everyone in his area shuffled away, desperate not to come into contact with the germs.

"That's a very impassioned speech," said Martina carefully, stating the obvious. Court rolled her eyes.

"Isn't that the sort of thing you guys like? You like to see us come up here and pour out our hearts to you, tell you about family, friends, partners, just so you can see it all destroyed. You reward murderers, brutal killing machines, and laugh when people who have so far worked their arses off so that you can live as comfortably as you like are killed!"

Raylum was gawping at her. She knew exactly what he felt, almost word for word. And she was actually saying it, up on the stage with the whole of Panem staring at her. He wanted to cheer, or kiss her, or both.

"You work us to the death!" she carried on, "Then, when we're nearly down, you kick us in the shins by making us watch you killing our friends, our children! You're all sick, each and every one of you!"

Martina didn't know how to respond to this outburst. So she didn't. Court didn't need any more encouragement.

"The tesserae system. Either your kids will die of hunger, or they will be snatched from your hands, tortured, forced up to speak in front of their torturers and made to fight just so some stupid people with no sense of priority or hard work can have fun. Well, enjoy your fun, because one day someone will have the sense to stand up to you and you will be powerless to stop it, I can promise you that!"

And with that, she left the stage.

Now there were two empty tribute seats.

"Isn't she charming!" Martina exclaimed with irony, desperately trying to inject some humour into the situation. It didn't work. Everyone was suddenly glaring up at the stage, full of hate not just for Court but for the other tributes too, the whole pathetic lot of them. From behind the stage someone was shouting; it wasn't Court. It sounded like her mentor, a Capitol-provided woman. She was clearly not happy with Court's little speech.