Chapter 7- Our Children Grow Up Prisoners

We're going crazy. And Zigmund's driving.

Let's elaborate on that, shall we?

It was his brilliant idea for the three of us (me, Lyle, and Cordelia) to come to his house to watch the tribute interviews with him and Aurora. Great. I was game for it. Then, he reveals that Aurora is at a friend's house, and he's going to turn the interviews into some kind of drinking game. He had bought a bottle of rum from the bar a week before –stupid of me to let him get away with it, I know– and thought it would be fun to take a shot every time a tribute made a fool of him or herself or made the interviewer or the audience feel awkward in any way. He's had this planned for months. If he had known that Valdemar Owens was going to be a tribute, he never would've done it.

Cordelia quit after seven. Lyle saw trouble coming from a mile away, and he's stone-cold sober. Zigmund and I have taken twenty four shots each. This is only the third tribute.

Tracy from District One induced the first one when she kept up eerie silence for the first half of the interview and mumbling cryptically for the second half.

The rest were all Valdemar. The kid is a raging lunatic. He swings from giddy and hyper to roaring with anger to crying and whining that he wants to go home to his mommy. Zero to crazy in five seconds, as the old saying goes. I have seen some crazy tributes in my day; even supposed Careers like Valdemar, but none have been as utterly insane as him. And the Games haven't even started yet. Usually the crazy doesn't start till then, when the kids are hammered by emotions and unable to keep themselves from breaking down. The arena brings out the worst in them.

"That's it, Zig," I slur, "I quit."

He laughs. "Thank Jude! You stopped me from saying it first. I'm done. Never makin' this mistake again."

"I'm surprised either of you made it this long," Cordelia chuckles.

"You are brave men," Lyle agrees.

I shake my head. "Not brave. Just stupid."

He grins. "I was going to say stupid, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Gotta love Lyle.

The girl from District Two, who I now know is named Ida, walks up to the hot seat. Even her professional Capitol stylists couldn't do anything to make her look less, for lack of a better term, ugly. I'm hardly one to talk, I think, as I absent-mindedly twirl a piece of stringy, damaged black hair around my finger.

Looks can be deceiving, however, as it turns out that Ida is charming and –believe it or not– funny. She volunteered, so there's no doubt that she's a Career, but she doesn't seem wholeheartedly into it, because when she talks of the glory of winning the Games, her eyes are hollow. Most likely it's a bring honor to the family thing, with no hope for her back in District Two with the way she looks. Either way, dead or alive, this is her escape.

"The poor girl…" I mutter.

Cordelia gives me a sideways glance, but says nothing, and quickly turns back to the TV when she knows that I've seen her.

Bartlett from Three is small and quiet. Painfully shy, he talks about his adorable seven year old sister and loving parents, his voice filled with longing to see them again one last time. His partner Joule, on the other hand, is erratic and cheerful, with a hundred-watt smile and the amazing ability to fit whole sentences into a single sound.

Beck from Four is what we call a contender. With smooth charm and impeccable coolness, he turns the entire female audience into a swooning mess. Pretty impressive for a lad of only seventeen. Adara is in tears before the interview even begins. Mentor Maris was right about that one.

District Five has a tendency to produce some eccentric tributes. It makes sense; if you had to spend most of your life working in a smoggy factory, you'd likely be off in the head too. Elden, the boy, tends to trail off without finishing his sentences, and he stares into the open air like a blind man given sight. The interviewer gives up on trying to snap him back to attention, so they sit silently for the rest of the allotted time.

Blond-haired, dark-eyed Jaclyn from Six is up next. She gives off a cool, no-nonsense demeanor.

"Do you have anything to win for at home?" the interviewer asks.

"No."

"No younger siblings… no special boy?"

She gives him a sharp glare. "My siblings are dead. And I've got better things to worry about than stupid boys. I've got a job to do. Not everybody has their food handed to them on a silver platter."

She'll die on the first day, I think sadly. The tributes that say bad things about the Capitol are always the first to go. Her fate has been sealed.

It's all so terribly unfair. When was it decided that brutally slaughtering children was an okay thing to do? It was before my lifetime, I know, but it seems so inescapably wrong. The Hunger Games have been in place since before I was born. Always just a part of life that you learned to accept, much like the living conditions of District Nine. You've never known anything different, yet it feels as if you've been robbed of something that you deserve. There must have been a time where things had been better, or else why would we be able to feel so miserable?

The District Seven tributes are next. Arbor and mayor's girl. In keeping with the boy-girl pattern of this year's interviews, Arbor ascends the stage first.

"Hey kiddo," Caesar begins (Arbor is fourteen), "How are you feeling right now?"

Arbor looks up wearily. "Tired," he admits.

"Has the splendor of the Capitol been keeping you awake?"

" …something like that."

"Great! How're things back home? Tell me about your parents."

He shrugs. "Not much to tell. They're dead."

"Ah, you live in one of the community homes then. What's that like?"

"Not the greatest."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. You must have plenty of friends."

"No. I don't have any. I'm pretty sure they all hate me."

"Why on earth would you think that?"

"This," he says simply, gesturing to the hard-to-miss bruise on his cheek.

Lyle makes a moan of empathy. I reach over and pat him on the back encouragingly. He smiles at me briefly for the kind gesture before turning back around. The mayor's daughter, Liza, is now talking to the interviewer. Nothing special about her, probably a bloodbath.

We talk through the Eight boy's entire interview, and the girl, Annette, follows suit. There's never anything interesting about Eight.

Our beloved District Nine is up next, and the four of us cheer in a rare display of patriotism. Zigmund even throws a toast when Keith begins to walk to the stage. The sixteen-year-old keeps himself composed, even with bright lights shining in his face.

"Keith! How does it feel to be here at last?"

"Kind of like I've been transported to an alien planet. I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course. In all honesty, anything is luxurious in comparison to District Nine."

"Tell it like it is, boy!" Cordelia shouts enthusiastically.

"Yeah, preach it brother!" Lyle exclaims.

"I'm flattered!" Caesar beams in response to Keith's answer, "But you miss your home, don't you?"

"Of course. It may not be the greatest… or the cleanest… district, but it's the only place I could ever truly belong."

"You got a training score of eight. That's not too shabby. Do you think you could have a shot at winning?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I could. Anything's possible. I try to stay optimistic. It gets you far in life."

"Wise words from a wise young man. Anything to say to the folks back home?"

"Sure. Mom, keep being awesome. Reggie, try not to catch anything on fire. Dad… take care of 'em, alright? Love you guys; hopefully I'll be coming home soon."

The buzzer rings, and Keith gives the interviewer a polite nod before walking back off the stage. We all cheer again. Zigmund gives a long, drawn-out whoop that I'm sure the neighbors heard, and Lyle breaks into enthusiastic applause.

"Weeeeee've got a wiiinnnnerrrrr!" I yell in an over-the-top mockery of the Games announcer, Claudius Templesmith. The others burst into laughter.

"That… was prime," Cordelia breathes, "You're truly gifted, Nige."

"Yeah, giftedly weird," Zigmund smirks.

I shrug. "You say that like it's a bad thing, Zig."

We're more subdued for Bethany's interview. She doesn't radiate District Nine quite like Keith does, but we still try to root for her.

"Hi, Bethany… or do you prefer Beth?"

She smiles uncomfortably. "Bethany is fine."

"Good to know. How do you feel about being in this year's Games, Bethany?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Who are you most excited about seeing if you get home?"

She smiles, for real this time. "My dad. He's great. We're so close. I miss him terribly."

I wonder if I've seen her father before. The bar is a pretty popular place; it wouldn't be surprising if I had. Asher… never heard that name before. Maybe he's not a drinking man. Well, he probably will be after this.

"Don't think she'll last long," Zigmund cuts in.

I sigh. "Yeah, I doubt it."

"I've seen her around before," Lyle says sadly, "She's a year below me; always saw her hanging out with a massive group of friends. Had a lot going for her, and had it ripped away, just like that."

Districts Ten and Eleven pass by way to quickly. The tributes from those two never win; there's really no point.

District Twelve would've gone the same way, except that Ross had a few choice words for the interviewer when he asked the fateful question, "What did you think of your chariot costume?"

Let's just say… you'll never see those words in this book.

AN: Lame ending, I know. It seemed pretty funny when I came up with it! …oh well, I tried.

Chapter title comes from "Radio Song" by R.E.M. featuring KRS-One. The line was meant in a completely different context, but if there's one thing you need to know about me it's that I really don't care about stuff like that. Hehe. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!