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Summary
One more district. Just two people to go. There’s no way they can beat an eleven. There’s surely no way. There’s no way either of those prissy, spoilt brats can beat an ELEVEN.
But her stomach refuses to untwist. She wishes this whole thing wasn’t a damn live watch party - so she could wash the fake-ass cocky grin clean off her face and sweat nervously all she wanted.
The training score for the District 1 girl flashes on the big screen. Big, bold letters. Big, bold numbers.
CAITLYN KIRAMMAN: 12
The display switches to the live cameras.
Funny, it’s not the District 1 tributes on screen now.
No - for a split second - the whole of Panem sees the exact moment Vi thinks:
Fuck you, Caitlyn Kiramman.
Or: A Hunger Games Caitvi AU