Shades of Gold and Blue | Finnick Odair

Two

I make notes as I listen to Professor Crane give us our final assignment of the academic year, "Last time we were together, you all selected the form of media which you were most enthusiastic to work in – either television, radio or print. This will be the area that you focus your project on, you must produce a piece of media which is both profitable and has at least a thirty percent Capitol citizen viewing record."

There's a shocked chorus around the room as we hear that last part – profitable is easy – most things are profitable around here because there's copious amounts of money to be spent. But a thirty percent viewing record was what was going to be the hard part, it would be easy enough for me if I wanted to take the easy route. I could call in a favour with Caesar and do something on his show, he always wanted to help me out where he could. But I want to do this on my own.

The room quietens again as Professor Crane raises his hand, "For anyone who selected television, you have each been given a one-hour slot starting at eight in the evening – the dates of which are in the envelopes you were given when you came in. You are expected to promote your own project, so I suggest you start sooner rather than later." I look down at the envelope marked with the Capitol insignia.

He packs his things together; he'll be heading over to the Control Centre after this class. Seneca Crane had been promoted to Head Gamemaker for this year's games, but in the months when the games weren't on, he did some classes at The University. With the seventy-second games due to begin in four months-time, this is our last session with him until September. He moves to leave before turning around quickly, catching us all by surprise, "Oh, and anyone who doesn't reach their thirty-percent viewing will have their place on this course terminated. There are no places here for anyone or anything less than excellent. So, make it memorable . . . good luck everyone."

I see several jaws drop but all is silent until he leaves, the moment the auditorium door closes behind him, there's uproar.

My best friend, Priscilla, looks distraught, "Kicked off the course?" She turns to me, "He's kidding right?"

I shrug, feeling a little worried myself, "I know as much you do."

Briseis lets out a half-sob, "A thirty percent viewing record is awfully high. I worked it out while he was talking, that's just over 18,000 households needing to watch – even more for anyone who picked radio or print. It wouldn't make sense to do anything but television." I just feel sorry for anyone that didn't pick television. I know that we all did, but I can see Amethyst Driggs being comforted by her friends as she sobs. When I spoke to her last week, she had selected print – definitely the most difficult of the three to pull in such a large audience target.

Melaina throws herself back against her chair in a sulk, "How am I supposed to ever find a husband if I lose my place now?" The three of us look at each other and back at her with amused faces.

Bree puts her hand gently on Melaina's shoulder – careful not to touch the pink and gold scales which she had sprayed on at The Salon last weekend, it's all the rage at the moment. "A husband?"

She glares at us, "Yes, that's right, a husband!" She sees the three of us about to laugh, "Mother says here is the only place to find the right sort of husband if I don't want to end up with someone that's ancient. It's alright for the three of you – Bree has her money, Priscilla is a Palmer so her name's enough to get herself hitched and Cassia has money, she's a Snow and if that wasn't enough then, well, she looks like that."

Priscilla scoffs, "Thank Mel, nice to know the rest of us are ugly in comparison to Goldie here."

I go to nudge her playfully and she laughs at me as I miss. I roll my eyes and turn to Mel, "You want to know what I heard when I was walking to class today?"