Back at home, I don't have much time to think about my brief encounter with Finnick. The house is abuzz with preparations for the Reaping. My mother runs to and fro, preparing today's outfits for my family members. My father and older brother, James, simply laugh and nod as she exclaims "Now, Jamie, this color will go wonderful with your eyes!" I smile, knowing that both of them could care less about fashion. As could I. Climbing the stairs to my room I am nervous to see what kind of dress my mother has laid out for me, wary of her usual styling. Ever since I turned 15 I've been subject to mandatory "dates". My mother finds "eligible and highly approvable" bachelors, most of whom I resent greatly, and sends me to have dinner with them. Often this means parading around town in a slightly revealing dress. Needless to say, I hate the experiences.

Instead on my bed I find one of the most gorgeous items I've ever seen. It's simple, but flowingly elegant. It looks blatantly out of place in my slightly disorganized, masculine bedroom. "Wow… this is…"

"Gorgeous? That's because I picked it out."

Whipping around, I am greeted by a proud woman with long silver hair braided down her back and permanently tan skin. "Ama!", I exclaim raising my eyebrows. " I didn't think you would be back today."

My grandmother crosses the room, opening her arms for an embrace. "I never miss a reaping, Annie."

It's true. My grandfather was the victor of the 18th Hunger games. As a mentor and past victor, he was never allowed to miss a reaping. Since his death two years ago, my grandmother has honored this commitment for him, and occasionally the more recent victors seek her advice before mentoring, knowing that she has her husband's knowledge.

I smile sadly, knowing how much she misses my grandfather, especially during the Games. "Did you pick this out, Ama?" I ask, gesturing to the garment on the bed.

She laughs. "Well, really your grandfather picked it out. He bought that for me on the way back from one of his trips to the Capitol. He said the color reminded him so much of home, like…"

"The sea before a storm?" I question. I try not to think to long on the circumstances in which I saw the color this morning.

She grins. "Exactly. Now hurry, try it on, or your mother will have a fit. I'll be back in a moment." She says, exiting the room. I listen to her heels clop down the stairs, and turn back to the dress.

The dress slips through my fingers as I lift it off the bed. I know instantly it is of Capitol make, as the fabric is like nothing I've ever encountered in District 4 or even the textile imported from the other districts. It flows like silk, shines like satin, and clings to my frame like cotton. The neckline is a square scoop, which is conservative, but still shows skin appropriate for my age. From the 2 inch wide straps dangles a sheer ribbon, matching exactly to the hue of the dress. At the end of each small ring is visible.

"You put them on your finger, like this." Says my grandmother, noticing my confused expression as she walks back into the room. I put the rings on my middle finger and look at my reflection. For a moment I feel that I have wings. I spin around in the dress, the knee-length cut swirling up around me. I laugh. The green colors shimmer, and the slight breeze coming through the open window catches the delicate ribbons, sending them billowing around me. The dress is much fancier than what you normally see at reapings, but I love it too much to care.

"It I gorgeous Ama, Grandpa had good taste."

She smiles, and then gestures for me to sit. After applying very subtle makeup, she twists my still damp hair into a donut-like bun, leaving a few strands in their natural wavy state around my face.

"This is how your mother should send you out to those god-awful dates. Not in those floozy little dresses that show everything!"

My face reddens. "Ama!" I shriek. She laughs. "Only being honest, sweetie. I know you don't pick them out."

I simply smile. I could never be angry with her for voicing something I've thought a thousand times. I look at myself again in the mirror. It is strange seeing someone so confident and strong. For once, I can see myself as someone desirable. Turning back to my grandmother I look at my feet.

"I don't have any shoes." I say gesturing over to my worn, leather sandals on the bed. Despite my mother's protests, I hardly ever wear anything else.

"Oh don't worry about shoes. No one film's the crowds' shoes!"

"You are right as always, Ama."

My grandmother smiles knowingly. "The check-ins start in 15 minutes. You better go show your mother your outfit before she has a heart attack."

"Right. I'll see you later. We can stop by the café afterward, and you can tell me about your trip to the Capitol." For a moment I see something flash in her eyes. Fear. As I leave the room I catch a whisper.

"I hope so, Annie."