Wildflowers Don’t Cry: Chapter 14

Instructions

It’s the day of the interviews, and Mara is getting us prepped. “Remember,” she says, pacing in front of us, “always smile. Sponsors want someone who looks confident. Someone they believe in.” “That’s easy for me,” Logan mutters from beside me. We’re sitting on the couch in our apartment, waiting for Celestine to finish getting ready. Logan leans back like he owns the place, one arm draped across the back of the couch, completely relaxed. I sit a little straighter. Trying not to look as nervous as I feel. We’re already dressed for the interviews. I glance down at my outfit. A sleek brown leather dress fits close to my frame, the material soft but structured. Over it, I’m wearing a cow-print jacket that somehow works better than it should, paired with heeled boots that click softly every time I shift my feet. Around my waist is a thin belt designed like a lasso, looping casually at my side. District 10. But… Capitol. It’s strange. I look like a version of myself I don’t fully recognize. Logan, on the other hand, looks exactly like himself—polished, confident, irritatingly put together. “The interviews start in forty minutes,” Mara continues, stopping in front of us. “That means first impressions matter. The way you walk out, the way you sit, the way you answer questions, it all counts.” She looks directly at me. “Willow, you don’t have Logan’s… confidence,” she says carefully. Logan smirks. “But,” Mara continues, ignoring him, “you have something better. You’re real. People like that. So use it.” I nod slightly. “Okay.” Mara studies me for a second, like she’s making sure I actually believe that. Before she can say anything else, the bedroom door swings open. Celestine steps out. “Sorry to keep you waiting!” she says brightly, spinning once like she’s showing off her outfit. “Now...are we ready to make an impression?” My stomach twists. Forty minutes. That’s all the time left before the entire Capitol decides who I am. And whether I’m worth saving. I stand behind the boy from District 9, waiting for my turn to be interviewed. The girl from District 5 just finished, her smile still plastered on the giant screens as the audience applauds. I still have a moment before they call my name. In the meantime, I go over everything in my head—how to stand, how to speak, how to win them over. Smile, but not too much. Be confident, but not cocky. The Capitol doesn’t want desperate—they want someone they can root for. I smooth my hands over my outfit, forcing myself to stay still. My heart is pounding, but I can’t let it show. Not here. Not now. About ten interviews later, it’s finally my turn. My name echoes through the arena, and I take a steady breath before stepping onto the stage. The lights are blinding, the applause loud enough to rattle my bones. Caesar Flickerman waves me over with his usual dazzling smile, all bright colors and charm. I make my way toward him, forcing confidence into every step, and lower myself into the seat beside him, trying to ignore the thousands of eyes watching my every move. “Well, well,” Caesar Flickerman says, flashing that impossibly bright smile at the crowd. “Don’t we have a striking tribute with us tonight?” The audience bursts into applause. I give a small wave, careful not to overdo it, and settle into my seat. “And what’s your name, dear?” “Willow Hayes,” I say, steady and clear. “District 10.” “Ah, District 10!” Caesar beams. “You must be quite familiar with hard work out there.” I shrug slightly. “You get used to it. Animals don’t really care if you’re having a bad day.” A few people in the audience laugh—soft, but real. Caesar’s eyes light up. “Oh, I like that. Practical and honest. Tell me, Willow—what do you think has prepared you most for the Games?” I pause just long enough to make it feel like I’m thinking. “Watching.” “Watching?” he repeats, intrigued. I nod. “People show you who they are if you pay attention long enough. You just have to know what to look for.” The audience quiets a little at that. Caesar leans forward, clearly interested now. “And what have you seen so far?” I let a small smile slip through. “That some people talk a lot more than they should.” The crowd laughs louder this time. Caesar places a hand over his heart dramatically. “Now I feel personally attacked!” I tilt my head, just a little. “Only if it applies.” That gets an even bigger reaction. (pt 1)