Once the pair from District Four had sat down, Grace leant over to congratulate them, especially Meridan. She thought they'd done very well, given the obvious issue, and she'd got on well with them in training. Out of everyone there, they were the most genuine, the ones who she couldn't imagine actually killing anyone. She tried to move her thoughts on. She was actually up on stage, and tomorrow she was actually going into the arena...
"Grace Collins, everyone!" Grace stood lightly and tripped to the front. Her mouth had gone dry. Everything that they'd done in interview training had vanished from her head and all she could remember was not to try and sound tough when she wasn't. She couldn't even remember whether she was supposed to speak first, so she sat there awkwardly, trying to find it at the back of her mind but only drawing up a blank.
"Hello," she started nervously, at the same moment that Martina chirped "Hi there!" Martina laughed; Grace blushed. She'd already made a fool of herself and she'd only spoken once. And she knew she'd need sponsors because she was nowhere near tough enough to do without. She felt ready to burst into tears.
"Grace, honey, for a start can I say what a beautiful name you've got," soothed the unfazed Martina, recognizing the girl's discomfort.
"Thanks," Grace whispered back, smoothing her dress. It was better than she'd dared to hope, a kind of shell pink that suited her without making her appear like a child again, beautiful in a soft and gentle way, like Grace herself.
"It's true. And you look absolutely wonderful. I bet Camden is proud of himself!" Everyone knew Camden; he was the vain and pompous stylist who had a habit of going overboard. Luckily for Grace he'd restrained himself this year. She fiddled anxiously with her bracelet, a simple gold chain that had miraculously matched her locket. She didn't know what she was meant to say to that. Her mind was totally blank.
From somewhere, she heard her own voice mutter, "I think he should be. It's a lovely dress."
"It's no trouble, sweetie!" his voice cried from the wings, and everybody laughed. Martina laughed briefly, then motioned for him to hush. She was one of the majority who would quite happily throw Camden into the arena if she had half a chance. He was always disrupting the interviews and putting the interviewees off. She turned back to Grace with a calm, reassuring smile. "Now then, Grace, we all remember your reaping. Was that your brother?"
Grace looked at the floor and bit her lip, nodding. She'd been hoping they wouldn't ask about Peter, because she wouldn't be able to not cry, thinking about how he was all on his own now, no mother, no father, and now no sister. No little Grace to keep his chin up when it all got too much for him. The reaping had been bad enough, but here, where she could see all these people...
She bit her lip and nodded. Martina was used to this kind of reply but pushed on anyway. "And what's his name, honey?"
"Peter. There's just us. My father vanished and my mother died."
People made an 'awww' sound, and a few eyes started to moisten tenderly. Very few people in the Capitol had ever lost a parent as a child, and for them such things were distant, to be heard about on stage or on screen. Still, they could appreciate the sentiment involved.
"That's a real shame, honey," said Martina. Grace couldn't hold back a small sob breaking out from her mouth. Her whole family had left her, one way or another, and all this woman with the mass of black hair could say was that it was a shame? Couldn't she tell how hard it had been? Grace had only been three but she'd had to start work already, shimmying up wind turbines to check on the deadly blades. Peter had been working in the hydroelectric plant; she'd had to carry on working until he could come and fetch her because by the end of the day she could barely walk and didn't know the way home anyway. He'd have to carry her, and he was always shattered as well, and they'd fall asleep without eating the minute they got home, little Grace curled up in her big brother's arms.
Peter was on his own now.
A little tear tracked down her cheek. Perhaps Camden had seen this coming because she wasn't wearing any makeup. Martina leant forwards and put an arm around her, murmuring "Oh, honey, please don't cry!" It made Grace feel guilty, somehow. She wiped her eyes with the hem of her pretty dress; in the wings Camden threw up his arms in despair and complained about tributes wanting to ruin his designs. Martina had to bite back her laughter for Grace's sake. The poor girl was trying desperately not to cry and failing miserably. The audience were losing interest in her.
"So you're going to come back to him, right Grace?" she asked, attempting to prompt her into a more...fierce...response. It didn't work. She sniffled, looking up at Martina through startling green eyes. Until that point she had seemed about twelve. Now she looked her age, sixteen, but like a girl of sixteen who had seen enough hardship to last a lifetime.
And now she had the Games to play as well.
It was impossible not to feel sorry for her.
Martina gave her a warm and comforting hug. "It'll be okay," she soothed pointlessly. Grace said nothing, just kept trying not to cry. The audience shifted; it was always uncomfortable when a tribute cried.
The buzzer went off. Crete stepped up to the plate eagerly, patting Grace on the shoulder and giving her a charming smile. She smiled at him, at least, the corners of her mouth twitched. He was two years younger than she was but seemed at least four older. "Wipe your eyes," he suggested to her in a low voice, "Don't let them get you down."
She nodded and dropped back into her seat. Crete held out his hand and shook Martina's. Martina couldn't help fluttering her eyelashes at him, even though she was more than twice his age. He looked much older, wearing a plain dress suit with a metallic teal jacket that glimmered alluringly in the bright lights. Someone had clearly spent a lot of time on his hair, gelling it up so that it looked impressively natural. He was smiling charmingly, his teeth winking. Everyone who had switched off during Grace's interview started to pay attention again.
"Well, hello there Martina. You're looking especially beautiful this year," he muttered. She blushed and pretended to hit him, and the audience laughed.
"Ooh, another charmer! I really am spoilt this year!" she joked, fluffing her hair. Crete didn't need any more encouragement. "I think purple really suits you," he told her, and the audience called agreement. His stylist grinned happily; a tribute with a sense of, well, style. Some of the girls in the audience fell in love with him instantly and cheered wildly. He blew them a gentle kiss and one of the more enthusiastic pretended to faint. "Thank you, ladies," he purred.
"Well, you seem to be one of our most popular tributes so far!" exclaimed Martina. She was right. They had been going wild for Dark, Amber, Tile and Klaus, but because they were also obviously superior. They were easy to love, but they were also easy to hate. Crete had a light and natural charisma and he'd clearly put a lot of effort into looking like he was engaging with the audience rather than just trying to impress them, and it was paying off. The crowd were already fond of him.
"Do you think so?" he asked, and everyone could tell that he was being genuine, not acting. They called up to him encouragingly. He didn't know it, but they'd already forgotten the tearful Grace, and the Careers were watching him suspiciously.
Martina leant back in her chair, relaxing. "So tell me, Crete, what makes you one to watch?" she asked. He tipped his head back, thinking. "I don't know. I know a good ally when I see one, but I can go solo too. I can vanish if I need to. But of course, I'm not going to tell you my best points, am I?"
People laughed, and a heckler who was already drunk shouted "Why not?"
"Why do you think?" he replied, with his trademark slightly lopsided smile.
"Fair enough," said Martina, "What do you think of our wonderful city? It must be very different to District Five."
"Wonderful doesn't cover it, Martina. Your city is amazing; beautiful, cultured, stylish...and that's just the ladies!" he exclaimed with a flourish. All the women whistled and Klaus scowled at him jealously. "Well, it is very different to District Five. People don't stop and talk to you there, but here every time I've left my rooms I've been accosted by people! And they're so friendly too!" He was starting to push the boundaries of what he actually thought now, but the people swallowed it easily. They'd already decided that he was incapable of telling a lie.
"You are sweet, isn't he ladies and gentlemen?" Martina called, getting the response she expected. Crete put a hand over his ears jokingly so they cheered louder. "Thank you! I actually can't believe the reception I've got here. It's fantastic, thank you so much! I really appreciate it!"
"So, Crete, a handsome lad like you has to have a girl back home, am I right?" Martina wasn't meant to ask this because she'd asked Tile and that was only three districts back, but she couldn't help herself. He tipped his head back, folding his arms with a real genuine smile.
"Would you believe me if I told you no?" he asked, and had to wait for the teasing shouts of 'liar!' to calm down before he could carry on, "I did, but it didn't work out. Yes, I know!" he added, in response to a few more cries from the front row.
"I bet she feels bad now, hey?" Martina chirped. Crete shrugged and rearranged one of his glittering cufflinks. "I don't know. I think she's better off now, anyway."
"Oh, did you like her a lot?" Martina had picked up on the slightly despondant tone in his voice that he had tried to hide.
"Well, now that you mention it, yes I did," he admitted with a blush, "But like I said, it didn't work out." He meant this as a polite cue to move the conversation on, and although some of the audience clearly wanted to know more, Martina obliged willingly.
"Okay, thanks for that Crete! I think you just gave a few young ladies something to wish for...hands off for now, girls!" The girls tittered pleasantly. He pretended to tip his cap to them.
"Can I just say to that young lady in the second row, the one with the green hair - yes, you! Hasn't she gone red? - that she's looking lovely tonight? If I didn't have somewhere else to be..." He trailed off expertly and the girl blushed fiercely, clashing with her hair. Martina winked teasingly at the audience and laughed.
"Remember that, honey!" she urged the girl, as the buzzer went. It made Crete jump; it had felt like only seconds since he'd sat down.
"Well, you've been amazing, and I'd love to stay and chat, but I think it's Fiona's turn now!" he exclaimed, giving Martina a quick kiss on the cheek and smiling at Grace. She was fiddling nervously with a strand of her hair and didn't smile back.
By the time that Crete had finished saying goodbyes to his fans in the audience, Grace had been forgotten.