Chapter Five: House of Interviews

Joy's POV:

Being from Five wasn't as bad as it could have been. I mean, we controlled the power throughout Panem, and my parents and older brother all worked at one of the many power plants throughout the district. The only thing was, I looked different compared to a lot of others from Five. Mainly everyone else, including my district partner, had pale skin and red hair. My skin, however, was sort of tan, and my hair was a lot darker. It was almost the color of chestnut.

Tonight was the night of the interviews. Then, tomorrow, we'd all be taken to the arena to fight to the death.

I had confidence in dying during the Bloodbath.

"Come on, Joy, it's time to see your prep team."

I begrudgingly followed my district escort and Owen, my district partner, to the elevator so we could meet up with our respective prep teams and stylists. I wasn't too nervous about the interviews; everyone always said I had a gift for captivating people's attention. I guess I could just pretend I was only talking to Caesar, and just ignore the fact that the entire world was watching me.

The entire population of Panem.

Mom and Dad.

My older brother and younger sister.

Suddenly, I was starting to get this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach

"I can't do this," I choked out as I stared at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a beautiful blood-red gown, my hair was done up to perfection, and all I had to do was step into a pair of heels and off I went to wait in line with Owen and the other tributes.

"You'll be fine," my stylist said. "Just pretend you're talking to Caesar without the picture of the audience. Try not to think about everyone. Or, if it makes you feel better, you can picture me during your interview."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Thanks, but I don't know how much that'll help. I was planning on ignoring the fact that the rest of Panem was watching my every move, but now I'm not so sure of how that'll work."

He smiled at me. "You'll be fine, Joy. I have faith in you."

Sure you do, I thought sarcastically, resisting the urge to tug at the left shoulder of my dress. It was one-shouldered, and not that I minded, but I was just really antsy about the entire thing.

I wish it hadn't been my name to be pulled from the bowl at the Reaping.

I sighed as he put a few bejeweled pins in my hair, had me spin around in the heels, and then escorted me to where the rest of the tributes were waiting. I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone else as we waited in line. I didn't even talk to Owen, who was standing in front of me. He turned around to flash me a quick smile, then faced the right way as we all stood in silence, occasionally staring up at the screen placed near the front of the room to watch Caesar babble on to the rest of the universe about how these Games were supposed to be the best yet, and then continued to boast about how he thought this year's batch of tributes looked promising, too.

Then, the girl from One was called out to interview. Her name was Amber, and her dress was beautiful: A flowing pink gown that looked as if the bottom of it were made of rose petals, and sparkly silver heels. Her hair was curled, but there weren't any pins or glitter or anything in it.

I was almost jealous of her appearance. Almost.

One by one, they were called out to talk to Caesar and the rest of the world about how they would kill us all.

"Joy Mercer?"

Someone said my name. I didn't even notice Owen had already gone, and I was the next one to go out.

The boy from Six tapped me on the shoulder before I started walking out to the stage. I turned around.

"Good luck," he said, flashing me a smile.

"Thanks," I responded, trying my best to look confident. He's kind of cute, I thought. But I can't be falling for a tribute. Plus, he probably left someone back home anyway.

Letting my sham of a love life fall to the back of my mind, I braced myself to take on the charismatic and somewhat intimidating Caesar Flickerman.

"Sit down, Joy," he started off as I approached him. He was sitting in a large, white chair that reminded me somewhat of a bowl. There was an empty one next to him that he gestured to for me to take.

I obliged.

"So," he continued, "you've done exceptionally well in training, getting an impressive score of nine. But, we can save all the fighting for the arena. Now, what's your favorite thing about the Capitol?"

"It's different," I said without thinking. "Much different compared to home. The food is worlds better." Right, Joy, that's real smart. Talk about food. Idiot.

As if I'd said something funny, Caesar started laughing. The audience joined him, and he rested a hand on my shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you enjoy the food here. Your dress is exquisite, might I add."

"Thank you," I replied, smiling. This isn't so bad, I thought. "My stylist and prep team are fantastic. I'm impressed with their work as well."

Caesar smiled. "Now, Joy: About your home life. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No," I replied without missing a beat. "There was someone fancied when I was back in Five, but now that I'm in the Games…"

"Tell you what," he started, "you'll win these Games. And when you do, that guy back home will have to go out with you. It's inevitable."

I wish it were that easy, I thought. "I don't know… I've known him since I was little; our families are very good friends, and I've been close to him for as long as I can remember. If I do go home, I don't want it to ruin our friendship."

He nodded, the style his blue hair was in casting shadows every so often. "I see," he answered, tapping his pointer finger against his chin.

Why am I even talking about this? I asked myself. The entire country is listening!

"Well, Joy," he started, taking my hand, "good luck. With your training skills and beauty, I'm sure you'll win this year's Hunger Games."

"Thank you, Caesar," I responded. He leaned down to kiss the back of my hand, and then gestured for me to stand up with him. After the crowd applauded again, I walked off the stage in the opposite direction from where I came.

My confidence had been boosted significantly thanks to the interview with Caesar, but I was still freaking out about the whole fighting-to-the-death part.

Later, after a few hours of restless sleep, I found myself sitting in the dining room of our floor, an Avox serving me a plate of cookies and warm milk.

This could be the last snack I ever eat, I thought glumly, chewing on one of the cookies. Better make it a good one.