Chapter Six

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・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚.

・ 。゚☆: *

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・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚.

Interview day was Johanna's least favorite. For the mentors, that day was the real start. The beginning of extravagant dresses and people touching her and excruciating parties while watching kids from home die terrible deaths. Interview day had always been the real start of the games, too. Which tributes managed to win over the crowd? For people from her district, it was usually redemption from their scores.

That year, seven hadn't done too bad. Both tributes landed a very mediocre score. It would never be enough, of course, but Blight told them they could work with that. More silly, kind lies Johanna couldn't stand. He still wasn't talking to her though, and any remark Johanna had tried to give had quickly been silenced.

Less work for her, she'd thought, but that would have been a treat. A gift Blight wasn't going to give her, despite how upset he still was with her. She had to train Vanya all by herself, a curse for both her and the tribute, since manners and sweet talk had never been where her strengths lay.

What had started as a good morning - Odette's hand soothingly running up and down her back as she muttered words Johanna had since forgotten with a warm smile and messy hair – became a day she couldn't wait to get over with.

"Are you that fucking dense?" Johanna said. Vanya couldn't seem to get her own plan working. "Scratch that plan, you're unable to be desirable enough. You act like a rotting bird."

"How do rotting birds act?" The girl mumbled under her breath, crossing her arms. Johanna had become frustrated the first five minutes, and Vanya was finally starting to. "Fine, what do you suggest?"

She hadn't bothered to think about it. Blight had basically shut her out of training, so she didn't know what the girl was like. She didn't even know what she did to get her score. "Do you have a tragic backstory or something?" She offered, beginning her second glass of alcohol it was too early for. "Like a dead boyfriend or girlfriend, held your dying brother, sold all your clothes to eat-"

"What?" A look of disgust passed her face, shaking her head. "No! That'd be the last I want to talk about."

"Tears work," Johanna shrugged, sighing into her glass. What was the point? Vanya wouldn't make it past week one, even if they managed to scramble sponsors together, she'd never be able to use the money. It was the truth, but even for Johanna, it was harsh to say. "You could just be nice but that won't make you stand out."

"I'm not exactly threatening," she mumbled in response, brainstorming for ideas. "I guess I could talk about my family."

"It needs to be good, then," Johanna finished her drink, rubbing her temple. "The girl from twelve volunteered for hers."

Vanya nodded that, biting down on her lip. It was strikingly similar to what Odette did when she was nervous. "Hopeful, maybe? There's still so much I would love to do but now I can't."

Epiphany | Johanna MasonWhere stories live. Discover now