A/N: This is chapter one of Say Something.

s/10065186/1/Say-Something-Book-II

Day 31 pt 1: The Interview

"Today, we welcome the Victor of the 72nd Hunger Games to join us for the first time since she was crowned." Caesar's voice echoes around the stadium. "We watched her through her toughest times, we bonded with her. We saw what drove her forward and what pulled her back. She overcame all of the odds - her training score, her lack of sponsors, the arena - and she now stands backstage. The lone survivor, our Victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, Verina Calder!"

I take a deep breath and sigh. The interview would last as long as my highlight reel doubled in size - six to eight hours. For six to eight hours I would be expected to sit with Caesar Flickerman and relive it all. I would have to watch myself kill and maim others and scream for my own life.

"Just be charming, Verina. Don't be angry." Mags says quietly from behind me. A victor must have a mentor backstage during the interview and Finnick should be the one backstage with me as. Mags had been in and out of the hospital during the past 6 days. I was told it was for something precautionary but either way, Finnick should have been able to put whatever he has going on behind him for the sake of Mags. I let out a bitter sigh at this thought and cross my arms over my chest, covered in silver and gold sequins.

"Come on out here, Verina!" Caesar calls out, beckoning me forward from on-stage. Mags pushes lightly on my back, sending me on my way and I strut out onto the stage into the bright lights. The applause of the Capitol citizens in the audience is loud enough to give me a headache but I smile regardless. Caesar motions for me to sit in a comfortable-looking turquoise loveseat across from his red chair. "Verina, Verina! Come sit! It's a pleasure to see you!"

"The pleasure is all mine, Caesar." I say with a smile, taking a seat on the firm loveseat.

"Certainly. Now Verina, am I correct in saying that you were very nearly lost? That we were close to not having you sit here today with us?" Caesar asks seriously, leaning forward toward me.

I wince slightly in response. "Yes, Caesar, I've been told that we were very close."

"We'll address the full details later on." Caesar says dismissively. "So let's start from the beginning. Verina Calder, you are 18 years old, correct?"

"Yes." I say, scanning the crowd for familiar faces but all I see is a mess of purple and green and blue, vibrant hair colors and clothing splatter the audience. Then, my eyes meet the eyes of Haymitch Abernathy, who smiles slightly at me, and I find where the mentors are seated.

"And why did you choose to wear that Reaping dress?" Caesar asks, referring to the video of me in my light blue Reaping dress walking up to the check in table to get my finger pricked.

"It was my older sisters' dress." I say softly. "She died in an ... accident. And I just decided to remember her that day."

Caesar turns his attention to the screen which had just finished showing Levilia Dritan's volunteerism and Veton Meallan's tears and now depicts my face as Drubidia plucks the paper slip with my name on it.

"Well I guess that you could say she was telling you it was time to excel." Caesar says softly. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Like she was saying I belong in Victor's Village?" I ask, playing along with what Caesar is saying. In reality, my sister hated the Capitol. She hated the Games. She hated the spectacle and most of all she hated the Victors. She was in Finnick's class when he was reaped and when he came back and she disliked him. Cephas used would try to convince her to give his brother a chance, but other than that and the times that I comforted Cephas when he was in the Games, those were the only times Finnick was brought up. My eyes find Haymitch Abernathy's and I look along the line of mentors, searching for a pair of sea green ones. "Greatness was one of her goals for me."

Caesar nods and takes my right hand between both of his sympathetically as the District 12 reapings conclude on the screen and the footage of the tributes exiting their trains and entering the Capitol begins to roll. "How did you feel in that moment?" Caesar asks me as my stunned face is shown upon the screens.

" 'Why in the hell is everyone yelling my name?!' " I say with a casual laugh. "No, really it was overwhelming. The Capitol is much different than Four."

"And what about this? The emergence of the chariots into the Tribute Parade!" Caesar releases a giggle. "You were a goldfish, were you not?"

My brain goes fuzzy as the image of Arno's face splashes across the screen and I see red. I see my anger and my will for survival. The struggle that occurred as trident hit flesh and sword hit flesh at the same moment. The only difference, of course, was that I went for the kill and he went for my arm.

"I was a goldfish, yes." I say calmly. "But Deremone did a fantastic job, did he not?"

The Capitolian audience roars in response, applauding my pink-haired stylist in full. I see Deremone, in a silver suit today, stand up and bow slightly. To his right in all gold is Drubidia. And to her right...

Finnick.

That bastard's face is emotionless as if he couldn't give a care in the world. Even Haymitch Abernathy smiled at me. I think about what my thoughts were when Finnick stared at me on Reaping Day, just over a month ago:

'You aren't supposed to look at him. You aren't supposed to think about him. Not in District Four. That's for the Capitol to do. He's the Capitol's boy.'

I can almost feel Finnick thinking a variant of those thoughts as his eyes flicker to an unknown point in the distance:

'You aren't supposed to look at her. You aren't supposed to think about her. That's for the Capitol to do. She's the Capitol's girl.'