The Hunger Games: Foxface

Chapter Eleven

The next morning I wake up later than normal. Everyone is already at breakfast. I’m about to grab my normal apple, when Celeste speaks. “Autumn, you can’t just live off a single apple! Come on, enjoy the food! Have some bacon!” Her five inch long nails bring a plate of bacon over to me. Her nails are painted like waves. My mind starts to picture her in a high priced salon getting them done. Celeste makes an unpleasant and impatient humph, so I grab a slice since I know she won’t leave me alone if I don’t. I start to go to my seat, while Celeste purses her lips when she notices that I’m not going to take anymore.

“So,” Jane begins. “Interviews.”

Sean emits an audible moan of despair. He really hates public speaking.

“Sean, please. This is the best part!” Celeste exclaims. I don’t know how she’s so excited. But then again, she is a Capitol lady, and they take nothing serious.

Jane interrupts Celeste’s enthusiasm. “Sean, you’re going to try to look happy that you are there and confident. The sponsors need to see that someone with a score of six feels just as confident as someone with a score of eleven.” The eleven was referring to Katniss. I really wish they would tell us what she did to earn that score. Eleven definitely gains sponsors, but it also puts an extremely large target on your back.

“Autumn.” My mind snaps back. Jane looks pissed off at me again. “Autumn, you’ve got to start paying attention. Well, actually, that might help. You will be cunning and mysterious. When you go into your own world, you get this look on your face, like you’re planning something that will only help you and no one else. You’re a… door... that everyone wants to go through. A portal to your way of thinking, that everyone once to gain special access to. You already do that when you don’t answer all the way. With a score of five, people need to be drawn in what you think, without you going into much detail.” I nod in response. There is a ding as the elevator stops at our floor. Roberto, Gloria, and Petunia step out. 

“Autumn, come with us,” Roberto commands. I get up and follow.

The rest of the day involves me learning to walk in heels. I don’t even enjoy regular shoes, and now they want me to walk in eight inch ones? Unbelievable. They bring my dress out next. Again, I’m not a fan of dresses, but damn, this one’s a beauty. It’s a beautiful blue that brings out my eyes. Short, but still modest, strapless but not low-cut. It has a corset-type top and slight ruffles on the bottom to give it shape. Gloria handed me knee-high boots that bring out the darker part of my hair. Luckily the heel is only about one and a half inches high, instead of eight, and are more solid than the itty-bitty points on the other shoes. I can handle those boots. 

I have a chocker necklace, and Petunia immediately starts on my hair. It’s in a half up, half down style, with some strands curled in front of my face to give it dimension; the bottom half is also curled. 

Gloria gives me simple make up, so my face structure stands out in the lights. Winged eyeliner, natural(ish) foundation, and light blue eye shadow. Before I know it, all three are wishing me good luck. I’m waiting in line to go on stage, and my nerves are exploding. Next thing I hear is Caesar Flickerman calling out, “Autumn Sillens! ”

Focus. Do not trip, I’m repeating to myself hundreds of times while I walk up the stairs. I’m slightly shaking, but quickly composing myself, giving the crowd a slight smile. I shake hands with Caesar, and quickly sit down. With a straight back, I cross my legs to keep my knee from bouncing, and place my hands on my knees. The interview begins.

“So, Autumn, how are you liking it here?” Caesar’s blue lips move, and it takes me a millisecond to register what the words were.

“It’s pretty similar, except the weather.”

“Oh, is that so? What, too wet for you here?” Laughter. I allow myself to smile, a bit more than slightly.

“Maybe a bit,” My smile softens more into a line, and the crowd leans in more. The less I smile, the more intrigued the audience is.

“Can we talk about your sisters?”

“Sure,” I respond trying my hardest not to sound cold.

“Phoebe almost made it, isn’t that right?” He takes my hand. Caution, Autumn, give a little emotion, but not a lot, I hear Jane saying to me in my head.

“Yes. I’m sure she would have won if she didn’t have asthma.”

Silence. They really should be able to cure asthma by now. I smile a little and say, “At least you won’t have to worry about me.”

The crowd moves closer.

“What about Ember?”

“Oh, she wanted to volunteer, but that will never happen.” I keep my face straight, almost like I was calculating every word I said.

The rest of the time, I just answer with one or two words, which, for some reason, the crowd seems to love. Soon the buzzer goes off, and Sean takes my place.

Later I learn that the girl who stole the knife from one of the Careers is named Rue, and the boy from 12 is Peeta. I wonder if he truly meant it when he said he was in love with Katniss, or if it was all a play to get sponsors.

I go to my room and take my last shower. I make it hot and long. The only way I’m able to sleep is by shutting off my mind – a trick I learned after Phoebe died. I’m consumed by the oblivion that some people call dreams.

It’s dark.

It’s overwhelming.

It’s safe.