seven - coaching

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i make it all the way to the elevator, up to my floor, and into my room before i fully realize just what i have done. i open my mouth and scream out of frustration, out of terror, and mostly just because i need to get it out.

i have ruined it for myself. my score will undoubtedly be so low that no one will want to sponsor me. i'll be on my own in the games.

i can only hope matthias caught their attention. maybe then there is hope for district twelve once again.

laying on my bed in a fetal position, i cry silently and just let it all out. i watch the sun slowly set over the neon, artificial metropolis we call our capitol and soon am yanked rudely out of my daze by a series of pounds at my door.

"what?" i snap and regret it almost immediately.

"sweetheart, you're late for dinner- again." it's haymitch, and that only increases my bad mood by a tenfold. i sigh.

"alright," i call to him. "i'll be out in a minute!"

i hear his retreating footsteps and wait until they disperse completely before turning so i'm lying face-down in my bed and scream into my mountain of pillows. then i walk to the bathroom and use a wet cloth to wipe the tear stains off my face and change into regular clothes. that is when i finally leave my room and join the others for the meal.

"what's the matter with you?"

i glare at matthias as i pull out a chair next to peeta, figuring he will be the least annoying, and also because he is closest to the door, just in case i need to make an emergency exit.

"i messed up," i confess dreadfully, huffing and moving stray strands of hair out of my face. "i messed up so bad."

katniss sets her cup of wine down with a concerned look on her face, her eyebrows scrunched together. "what do you mean?"

"i almost killed the gamemakers." i stab a piece of turkey with my fork and bring it onto my plate along with some mashed potatoes. "not really, but it was enough for me to probably get a negative score, if that's even possible."

katniss is smirking slightly for some reason while matthias's eyes are wide as can be.

"you'll be fine," katniss assures me like she has no doubts about it. "just wait until the scores come on."

when they do, we gather on a large sofa in front of a huge television about three minutes before they air. i sit with my legs pulled up to my chest, not caring if my shoes leave prints on the black leather seating.

"make sure you remember these tributes," haymitch reminds us. "look out for the good scores– they'll be the most threatening in the arena."

i nod and swallow the lump in my throat, wiping my sweaty hands on my thighs. i breathe in and out as the capitol symbol and anthem come on the television.

first they show a picture of the tribute, then flash their score below it. emrys gets a ten. astrid has an eight. it's no surprise to me that asher's score is an eleven, but effie gasps.

"that boy must be really amazing," she marvels in awe. "he looks so skinny, though."

carly gets a seven. maika has a five. matthias gets a nine and we all congratulate him as he sits with an excited smile lighting up his face.

i find myself biting my fingernails in anticipation of my score. my face pops up. i note that i look weird in my picture and then glance at the score below it. my hand falls out of my mouth.

eleven!

effie lets out a squeal and peeta whoops, clapping his hands. matthias shakes my shoulder, congratulating me. katniss gives me a smile like she knew it all along.

"well, sweetheart," haymitch says, "looks like their near-death experience brought some light into their eyes."

"i thought i'd never get as high of a score as asher," i admit with a sigh.

"i saw him during training," matthias recounts. "man, he's good."

i nod in agreement and we all just sit there for a while, talking and enjoying not being alone. it starts to get late and i realize i should get to bed. after bidding goodnight to the others, i hurry to my room and change out of my clothes, putting something more comfortable on before sliding under the warm covers and staring at the dimly lit city outside my window until i fall asleep.

when i wake up, i take my time getting ready. i skip my shower and instead head straight for my closet. i choose a cream-colored top with burgundy pants and black, open-toed flats. i let the vent detangle my hair and put it into its usual ponytail.

there is a knocking at the door. it's effie, reminding me in a chipper voice that today is a "big, big, big day!"

and then i remember. tomorrow will be our televised interviews, and the entirety of this day will be spent prepping us for them. with a sigh, i leave my room, heading to the dining area for breakfast.

katniss is the only one already present at the table when i arrive. she's dipping her biscuit into her hot chocolate and gives me a closed-lipped smile when she sees me. i return the gesture and sit on the spot to her left, seeing as she's seated at the head of the table.

i load my plate up with food and have gotten about a quarter way in when peeta and haymitch walk in. matthias arrives shortly after and sits directly next to peeta, diagonally across from me.

"today we will be coaching you on how to present yourself in front of the audience," haymitch explains through a mouthful of oats. "since katniss is, quite honestly, terrible at this, peeta and i will be working on what you will say. effie is helping you with presence."

"i am not terrible!" katniss insists.

"yes, you are," haymitch says and she rolls her eyes before taking another bite of her third pancake.

"you'll each have four hours with me on presentation and four with haymitch and peeta for content," effie explains more clearly than our other mentor had. "matthias, dear, you'll start with me. thalia will go with the boys."

"well, what am i supposed to do?" katniss demands, obviously not liking being excluded.

effie contemplates this for a moment. "fine. i guess you can help me."

soon i find myself in the sitting room, seated on the sofa with haymitch and peeta in chairs in front of me, studying me carefully.

"what are you doing?" i ask, feeling slightly uncomfortable under their stares.

haymitch ignores my question and instead turns to peeta. "what do you suppose?"

peeta shrugs, tapping his fingers on his chin before facing haymitch. "i think we should just let her be herself."

haymitch scoffs, not seeming to care that i can hear him clear as day. "that would never work."

"hey!" i exclaim, offended.  that draws their attention back to me, both of them regarding me as if they had actually forgotten about my presence. "in case you forgot, i am sitting less than three feet away from you and am perfectly capable of hearing what you're saying."

haymitch leans back in his chair. "okay, thalia. amaze me. be yourself."

i feel like a child playing pretend as peeta acts the role of the interviewer, asking me questions that i guess he had to respond to the previous year. all of my answers are concise and lack humor due to the fact i feel uncomfortable. when peeta runs out of questions, haymitch rubs the bridge of his nose and drags out a sigh.

"no, no, no," he says, letting his hand fall into his lap. "if you talk like that in your actual interview, you'll be so boring that half the capital will be asleep by the time you utter your second word." his words are a bit harsh, but part of me knows he's right. i don't speak well in front of large crowds, nor am i capable of carrying a conversation well under pressure. it's times like these when i detest my abysmal social skills.

"so what am i supposed to do? be a completely different person?" i ask.

"that tactic would never work–"

peeta cuts haymitch off before we can get into a heated argument. "i think you should continue to be yourself, but don't be afraid to charm."

"i am anything but charming," i point out, crossing my arms at the macabre suggestion.

peeta rests his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow perched on the arm of the chair. "okay, well, be yourself and add some humor in there. i don't know exactly what will be asked – the questions were different for everyone, depending on the person – but answer honestly and say something that will gain you sponsors. seek the window of opportunity or something, i don't know."

haymitch then takes over by asking questions related to me personally, and it's a bit easier to answer them because i don't have to think for so long. the results are still far from his definition of "decent" and so we work on my charisma and how and when to laugh for what seems like forever until it's finally time for lunch.

when i get to the dining table, matthias looks like he's ready to collapse. effie looks tired as well, and i begin to dread my time with her. what could she possibly coach me on for four hours?

my answer is given as soon as i finish my meal of carrot soup. effie immediately whisks me away to my bedroom and forces a frilly blue ballroom gown onto me. i get a glimpse of myself in the mirror and notice i look like one of those dolls in the shop windows, ones my family would never be able to afford.

"i look hideous," i complain to effie as she zips, buttons, and snaps the horrid thing in place.

"that's because your posture is atrocious. here," effie puts one of her hands on my hip and the other on my shoulder, straightening my back until it hurts, "make sure your spine is upright at all times. slouching gives off a lazy vibe."

she then places a book on my head and has me walk with it, adding more books when she deems necessary. i think it's stupid and pointless, but then i realize what it's helping when i let my shoulders slouch and the books tumble to the ground, the pages spilling open.

effie sighs and picks up the books, placing them back on my head after i straighten my back again. then, when she thinks i'm ready, i am handed a pair of white high heels.

"i'm going to break an ankle, effie," i say nervously after i have removed my flats and am stepping into the treacherous high-heeled shoes. my ankles wobble instantly and i grasp onto the desk next to me for support.

"careful, steady, now," effie coaxes, and i regain my balance. i take a careful step, holding my arms out to ensure i don't fall. i am shown how to properly hike up my dress – not above my ankles – and how to stay balanced without looking like a newborn deer.

after some time, i have actually succeeded in walking in them, much to effie's delight. she is in the middle of telling me about how my "strong ankles have worked in my favor" when katniss walks in, munching on an apple.

"and where have you been?" effie demands with her hands on her hips.

"i had to help haymitch with matthias because peeta needed to go to the bathroom," katniss replies, coming and standing beside her.

"it takes two hours for peeta to use the restroom?" effie's eyebrows are raised and she's obviously skeptical of katniss.

"no," she denies. "the coaching was interesting and i decided to stay for a bit." she notices me in the dress and heels and winces. "you did not make the poor girl wear that."

"well, i certainly didn't put this on by choice," i mutter bitterly, not wanting anything more than to rip the obnoxious clothing off and go somewhere to let off some steam.

"she is doing fairly well," effie informs, changing the subject. "she walks decently in the shoes."

i then have to demonstrate my walking and katniss agrees i am doing a good job, and then it's settled– i'm wearing heels tomorrow.

then comes the hard part– the smiling. i never thought so much work could be put into the act. i have to know whether to smile before i say something, while i'm saying it, or after. i am taught when to use hand gestures and how to always maintain eye contact ("or you could just look at their nose, that works too," says katniss. she is instantly rebuked for it.)

by the end of coaching, i know why matthias looked ready to pass out. right afterward, i change out of the dress and into my regular clothes before crawling right into bed, skipping dinner and dreading the next day.

gif is thalia in the dining room

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it feels so weird not updating each monday wow

so this chapter is kinda all over the place but whoo thalia she has to wear heels!! (note sarcasm)

xoxo,
kristyn