The Hunger Games-Foxface's Story

Chapter 7. The Interview

Chapter 7.

I woke to Effie’s incomprehensible screeching about how we had another ‘big, big, big’ day ahead of us, and how if I was late for breakfast she’d do all in her power to prevent me getting sponsors. I was pretty sure she had a LOT of power over my sponsors, so I was very punctual on my arrival into the breakfast hall, which earned me a grateful smile from Effie from across the table.

Breakfast that day was worse than yesterday. More paparazzi, cameramen, and more Capitol interviewers asking MORE ridiculous questions. ‘How do you feel about how your training day?’ ‘Do you feel honoured to take part in the Hunger Games?’

However, the food itself was again, much better than anything I’d ever tasted. Fruits and berries of any kind you could think of, French croissants, hot buttered toast, and other delicacies I’d never had back home. Still, they could indulge us tributes with splendid food and accommodation all they wanted- it didn’t make us forget that we weren’t here to be spoilt rotten. We were here to die, all 24 of us, all except one. And I wanted that one to be me.

We spent half of the day being dressed up by our stylists, and the other half being coached by Haymitch, all for an interview undertaken by each tribute in the evening. It would be broadcasted live everywhere in Panem. The interviewer was, same as every year, Caesar Flickerman. 

My stylist, Cinna, seemed nice, but he doesn’t like me. He only has eyes for Katniss. He designed her some amazing fire effect costumes-maybe she’ll wear one for the interview.

Cinna trimmed my thick ginger eyebrows, waxed my legs, which was extremely painful, and did my hair in a beautiful style. He first curled it, so that it flowed with immaculate curls, then elaborately styled it into a do that was hard to explain. I asked Haymitch to print me a picture of me at the interview to stick into this diary. Here it is.

THIS PICTURE COULD NOT LOAD.

The interview went…reasonably well. Caesar is amazing at his job-one slip-up from a tribute, or an awkward pause, and he can gloss it over before anyone notices. My legs were trembling as I waited backstage. I didn’t care about the others, but I listened to Katniss. She told Flickerman that she had promised her sister that she would try to win. ‘And try you will,’ Caesar responded, but he didn’t sound like he believed she’d win.

Soon, it was my turn. Something about the cheers of the crowd when my name was called gave me confidence. Not to mention the beautiful teal dress I had on. 

I strutted-well, not strutted exactly, more like walked with confidence onto the stage. I gave Caesar what I hoped was a mature, winning smile, and we took our seats. ‘Do you think you can win?’ Caesar asked, nice and straight-to-the-point. 

‘I do,’ I told him confidently. There were murmurs of approval from the crowd. I know from watching past Hunger Games that they don’t like negative tributes. Besides, I’m not lying-I do think I stand a chance. 

‘Well. Anything that you worry?’

I decided to be honest. ‘I’d really like to not have to kill anyone.’

‘That’ll be tough. Killing is sort of the large part of the Games, isn’t it?’

‘I’ll find a way to get over with it somehow,’ I told him, and Haymitch mouthed at me, ‘Hide and run’ from across the room. My game plan. Hide and run, hide and run. 

The interview was over before I knew it. I was back in my room afterwards, being served tea and biscuits by an Avox girl with red hair. Mother told me what an Avox was a few years back. Most people don’t know about them, but Mother used to be a naughty little teenager who narrowly escaped becoming one twice. She won’t tell me how she escaped, but she told me that an Avox is a person who has broken Capitol law, and have their tongue cut out so they cannot speak. Disgusting, I know. This redhead Avox seemed to like me. She gave me extra biscuits which she had frosted herself. They were delicious, but when she had left, I wished she were back. That Avox girl had, for a few minutes, distracted me from the horror of what would happen after the two day train journey we’d be taking tomorrow. I knew what waited at the end of those tracks.

The arena.