Coira does give me her own little mini-speech, but she doesn't say anything about my life after the games. I don't think she thinks I'll live--which makes sense, really. I don't think I will either. 

She just tells me to look pretty, act sexy, and be happy. I wipe invisible tears from the corners of my eyes as Apollo and I walk towards the carriage. Apollo's outfit is a mirror image of mine, minus the tulle and long skirt. They're both fitted in just the right places; sparkling like bright sun on the ocean. 

Grayling makes us hold hands. I don't want to but I do, because I know Grayling would be mad if I didn't and he's the one teaching me self-defense, something I'm not remotely good at. I don't want to make him mad. 

Apollo smiles at me. His hand is warm and clammy, and I can tell he's nervous. I give him the faintest of smiles back, for Grayling. 

And then we're through the tunnel, and light is shining everywhere, and people are cheering, and it's loud and I have to stare straight ahead to keep myself from screaming. 

Apollo doesn't seem to be having the same problem. He looks out the window and smiles at the crowd, waves, flashes an even brighter smile that almost makes me gag. 

I know I should too, but it's hard. I know I need to get over it, so I do. I look out the window, I smile what I consider my prettiest smile; I blow kisses, I wink, I act sexy. 

I do everything Coira tells me to. I hope I made her happy. 

She's not anywhere to be seen--but Thetis is, sitting with the other stylists on that special bench above the President. She waves at me and I wave back at her, for real. 

I hear people shout my name, over and over again. After a minute it becomes a chant. I smile wider--I like being recognized, being loved. Thetis was right. 

Apollo's after, but his is quieter than mine. He smiles but his smile isn't quite as wide as mine. I wonder if he's happy, too. He doesn't look it. 

We go through the next tunnel, and are swarmed by people. Coira, Grayling, Prometheus, Thetis, Apollo's stylist. I hug them all and so does Apollo. 

Coira grasps my shoulders and tells me I did just wonderfully. Thetis does the same. They're both grinning wildly. I smile too, and there are smiles all around. 

"Wonderful job!" Prometheus booms to me and Apollo. We both smile at him. 

For a moment, I don't feel seventeen. I feel nine again, visiting my grandfather when I was young. He was a lot like Prometheus, I think. 

The sad memory doesn't have much of an impact of the overall atmosphere. I'm happy, Apollo's happy, everyone else is happy. 

I'm led to my room in a parade of people, talking and chatting and chatting and talking. They smile and laugh until their jaws hurt, and I'm right with them. 

Until my door closes, and everything is empty. The parade leaves and I'm alone. My smile disappears, my laugh dies in my throat. 

I stand in front of the door, unsure of how my life has changed so quickly, so drastically. A tear slips down my face. 

***

An hour later, after I've regained my mood, I explore the room. A clock on the wall reads 5:37 P.M. The shower has multiple settings I can use--I try out some of them, rinsing the makeup from my face. When I look in the mirror, I feel like a new girl and yet somehow also the girl I've always been. 

A screen on the wall lets me order food, but an Avox comes in and tells me that dinner will be in an hour, so I don't get anything. Dinner will be terrible, but I'm sure it will also taste better than whatever food I could get from here, and it would be awkward to sit at the table, full, with nothing to do.  

There's a television on the wall. I switch the channels back and forth between a live feed of crowds pooling where the parade was and and Caesar Flickerman interviewing Gamemakers and even President Snow. 

I watch those for a while, readying myself for my own interview. 

Caesar starts off interviewing the head Gamemaker, Salus Crane. They're both relatively extroverted people, yet even through the screen I can tell that this is not Salus's home element. For Caesar, it very much is. 

"So, Salus, what did you think about the tributes this year?" Caesar asks, then chuckles. "We haven't seen much of them, but it's important to see what the public thinks of the new tributes. They all look wonderful, don't they?"

Caesar is setting Salus up for success here. All he has to do is say yes and smile, and he'll be perfect. 

Salus decides to overshoot. "They look amazing! And I must say--District Four has the whole nation swooning! Never before have we seen two contestants meet such high public acceptance!"

The camera switches to another interview, of a Capitol girl with hot pink tattoos around her eyes. She's jumping up and down, jittering with excitement, and looks about my age. 

It appears she's in a crowd--people bustle around as the reporter hands her the microphone. 

The capitol girl can't stop smiling. "Ohmygod I can't believe the tributes we have this year! I mean have you even SEEN Apollo from District Four? His namesake may be the god of the sun, but he's the god of my heart!" 

She sighs dramatically, and the interview switches again. I wonder whether those lines were rehearsed or if capitol people really are just like that. 

This time it's with Finnick Odair, the victor regarded as most handsome. The one Thetis warned me about becoming. 

He doesn't look all too happy about being in front of a public audience yet again. He's not even smiling. 

"So, what do you think of the games this year?" a reporter asks. His voice is hopeful, naive. I don't think he's been doing this job for very long--but the capitol likes to keep things interesting for the viewers. I doubt anyone does this job for very long. 

Finnick grimaces. "Do I have to answer that?"

The camera shakes up and down. The reporter must be nodding. 

Finnick sighs and leans against a wooden railing. I recognize the place--it's near the main docks in District Four, where they keep some of the fishing boats. I've been there plenty of times, but never seen Finnick. 

"Fine," he says, dragging his words out with annoyance. I'm sure he's trying to keep everyone else the audience might want to see--fans, Gamemakers, Snow--from talking. It's a good strategy. 

But he also can't say anything other than "I think they're wonderful," or the government will come for him. 

"They're very nice," he says. "Seventeen, too. Won't have to wait this time."

His voice is monotone. He stares up at the sky, watching a bird fly past, maybe, but I stare into his eyes through the screen, and think I see sadness. Pity. 

I'm seventeen, I realize. Not that I didn't know this before, of course, but the thought just reaches my mind now. Apollo's sixteen, in the year below me. He'll be seventeen soon, though, I think. 

And of course they're not going to be asking Finnick about tributes not from his District. So they're talking about me. They're pitying me. 

Thetis was right. 

I sink back on my bed. The interview has switched to something else--footage from previous games?--but I don't pay attention. 

I close my eyes, and more tears leak down my face. Falling, falling, dripping to the floor and making me wish I wasn't here, anywhere but here. 

I don't know why I volunteered. I don't know why--but also, I do. I did it to save that girl. Because without me she would be dead. 

At least I'll die for a good purpose, I think, but then disregard the comment. Because the capitol will use my death for a worse purpose, I know. 

But still, I hope the girl remembers me. I hope they all do. Above all things, I don't want to be forgotten. 

A blonde Avox knocks on my door to inform me it's dinnertime, but I don't go. Most likely it's mandatory, but whatever--I'll make up some excuse later. 

I curl up into a tight ball on my bed, yet when I close my eyes all I see is home--and my father. 

Does he know I'm gone yet?

A ridiculous fantasy bursts into my mind: dad, sneaking onto the nearest train to the Capitol, finding me, helping me escape. Maybe we would run, off into the wilderness. Start a new life. 

It's impossible, of course. But that last tiny bit of hope fuels my soul. 

And that infinite well of sadness drags me into sleep.