Just finished reading Mockingjay! By far the best book in the series. Anyone agree?
The Capitol - The Opening Ceremonies
I awake to Quincy shaking my shoulder, telling me to get up. I wave him away. It's Sunday; a day off. We don't have to get up early to fish today. I roll over and pull the blanket over my head. I must have been cold last night; Mother gave me the big soft comforter from her bed. Quincy demands that I wake up, saying something about the Capitol...prep teams...opening ceremonies...
Oh. Right.
I sit up on my elbows, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I didn't get to sleep until a while after Finnick left...
Finnick. His very name sends red-hot anger coarsing through me. I had cursed myself for whispering those foolish words after he walked out the door. That is exactly what I said I was not going to do! And it wasn't going to happen again. I will show him that I am not so easily swayed. That I am not to be toyed with.
"What time is it?" I manage to slur. I'm only half awake really.
"Around four in the morning," Quincy says. I've only gotten one hour of sleep. Not even one hour. Quincy hoists me off the bed and half guides, half carries me to the bathroom so I can splash water on my face. The icy water clears my head and wakes me up considerably, though I'm still dead on my feet. I dress in brown pants and a white blouse, certain that it won't matter what I wear when I get to the prep team. Quincy is leading me out the door when I remember my token.
"Oh! Hang on!" I say, running to the bed-side table. Fortunately I had remembered to take it off before I'd gone to sleep. The sparkling silver chain just looks so fragile. I snap it on, cupping the pearl in my hand.
"That's your token?" Quincy asks.
"Yes. What's yours?"
He sticks out his hand, revealing our father's good luck charm around his wrist. It is the middle spoke of a golden trident, the end of it twisted so that you can stick the sharp end through it and wear it as a bracelet. "They had to file down the point to make it suitable as a token, but I ended up being able to keep it."
"Good," I say. I don't know what happens to rejected tokens, but I have a feeling that their owners don't ever see them again.
We walk down the compartment, not bothering with the table of food that sits along the wall of the room. I'm still full from earlier. I'm sure that they will have food where we're going. They always have food where we're going. It'd be a crime to deny it to us.
Even if we wanted to eat, I don't think we would have gotten the chance to. Ophelia is in a frenzy, her vibrant purple braids trailing behind her like several tails.
"Calm down," Nath tells her. "The stylists won't be awake before noon anyway."
"Oh yes they will!" Ophelia shrieks. "I was smart enough to contact them last night. The opening ceremonies are an important event, the first impression a tribute can make! First impressions are everything!" By now her voice is so shrill that I wouldn't be surprised if dolphins would be able to understand her.
"Calm," Mags says, patting Ophelia's shoulder. "We'll get to stylists quick."
Ophelia takes a deep breath, her bottom lip trembling in the slightest. "Okay, okay. I'll be calm. But we need to get going. Come along."
We all follow Ophelia without another word. She opens the door to the outside.
I gape at the world around me. It's like another planet. Colorful people are bustling about, arriving on trains, leaving on trains, waiting for trains. Cobblestone streets are surrounded by enormous buildings, even bigger than the Justice Building back home. And the buildings are just as colorful as the people. But perhaps the most brilliant things here are the lights. In District Four, we get maybe five to six hours of electricity a day, with the exception of "festivities" like the Hunger Games. But even when we do get electricity, our lights are dim and grimy and we only have one in each room. Here, there are lights everywhere. On the top of lamp posts, stuck on the buildings, even ropes of light wrapped around the trees that are evenly dispersed in the street. And every single light is like a little star, shining with quiet radiance. These must replace the actual stars, which are nowhere to be found in the sky.
When Finnick sees my puzzled expression, he leans down and whispers, "The lights are too bright. That's why you can't see them."
"I knew that," I snap, sparing him a scowl. It takes a lot of effort to keep that scowl in place, though. Finnick, smirking in the illumination of these Capitol lights, is as brilliant as the lights themselves. He seems to sense my admiration and a smile replaces his smirk. When I turn away, I have to remind myself to breathe.
Though I'd prefer to walk along the streets of the Capitol, Ophelia exclaims that it's much too far and points out the limousine waiting for us. I've never seen an actual car before, much less a limousine. The sleek black machine intrigues me greatly. I notice that Quincy is giving it the same curious glance. We get inside and I can't help running my hands over the creamy leather seats. But when the door closes and I am secured in a seat belt, I feel trapped. I try to look out the window, but they are too tinted to see anything outside. I begin to fidget. The others, even Quincy, seem perfectly fine. I decide that I hate vehicles and I want to be out of this one right now.
Thankfully, the ride only lasts about fifteen minutes. I practically leap from the car in my desperation for air. As soon as I'm out, I'm fine.
We are outside what seems to be a palace. Ophelia says it's not a palace, just a hotel for Hunger Games tributes. They have a new one every year, so people don't come barging in, demanding autographs or something. The security is top-of-the-line.
We go inside and are immediately directed to our bedrooms. Ophelia throws a fit, asking where our stylists are. The employee says nothing, just stares at us. Ophelia doesn't seem bothered by this as she normally would; she simply presses a button on her miniature telephone and begins screaming in the mouthpiece.
"Thank you," Nath says to the...servant? I'm not sure, but the term "employee" doesn't sound right. Anyway, the servant gives a respectful bow and leaves.
"Why didn't he talk?" I ask.
"He's an Avox," Nath replies matter-of-factly. "He can't talk."
"Why? What's an Avox?"
"An Avox is a criminal who is sentenced to serve the Capitol's needs," he explains. "Something is done to their tongues so they are unable to speak."
"Oh" is all I say. What can you say to that?
Nath doesn't seem to want the conversation to end. That, or he just likes the sound of his own voice. "'Oh' indeed. It's quite tragic, what happens to them. But they make good slaves."
Slaves? What a crude word. I recoil from Nath, disgusted by his lack of sympathy for these poor people. Just because they're criminals doesn't mean they should be subjected to this...the word 'torture' comes to mind, but it seems too tame. To my relief, Nath says nothing more.
"Well," Ophelia sighs, pressing another button on her phone. "They're on their way. I suppose you can get some rest before they arrive. It's going to be a big, big day!"
I nod and head to my room. Quincy stops me at the door. "Annie?"
"Yes?"
"I don't..." his gaze flickers to the ceiling. No one's mentioned it, but I'm sure we're being watched all day, every day. "...like them. Not a single one."
By "like" he means "trust". I think this over for a moment. "Mags seems okay. If I had to choose a mentor, it would be her."
"Yes, but you're not talking to Mags," Quincy says. I start, a bit confused at where this conversation is going. Is he worried about me talking to Nath and Finnick? I guess that's understandable, but to bring it up here is foolish.
"I'm fine, Quincy. I know what I'm doing," I retort.
"Do you?" Quincy pesters me.
"What are you implying?" I say coolly.
"I'm not implying anything," he says just as icily. "I'm telling you to stay away from them."
I narrow my eyes. "Goodnight, Quincy." I shove him aside and step into my room, shutting the door firmly behind me. He's saying that there's something going on between Nath and me or Finnick and me! What an absurd notion! Frankly, I don't trust either of them at this point, and I can barely say I trust Mags. It suddenly occurs to me that I don't even really know Mags. She just seems so simple-minded and innocent that it's hard not to immediately like her. But if she won the Hunger Games, she must be somewhat conniving. I make a mental note to get to know Mags better.
I am asleep before my head hits the pillow.
My prep team are complete imbeciles.
I determine this as they wax, pluck, lather, condition, polish, and rinse me raw. My prep team consists of three people: Claudia, a tiny woman with baby pink skin and shining auburn hair; Laverna, a tall, stick thin woman with blue skin that fades to white as it gets closer to her extremities and hair the same shade of blue that has streaks of white through it, giving her the allusion that she's made of water; and Balbus, a man with cat whiskers and flashing yellow eyes. I am afraid of them at first, until I hear Claudia, the most vocal of the bunch, shriek, "Oh look at her! The loveliest tribute we've had since Finnick himself!"
It's hard to be frightened of someone with a Capitol accent.
All three of them gush over my every feature, from my hair to my feet. But as they get deeper into work, they begin complaining about some things.
"What possessed you to give your gorgeous hair these hideous bangs?" Claudia scolds. "They do nothing for your face!"
"Your nails!" Laverna gasps. "You've chewed them to the nub!"
"Ugh, I wish Maya would let us do some surgery on you!" Balbus says, tilting my chin up. "That gap between your front teeth...well, at least your beautiful green eyes will take away from it. You District Four people always have the most amazing eyes!"
"Maya? That's my stylist?" I ask, ignoring their criticizing.
"Oh yes, Maya is fabulous. You're going to love him," Claudia quips as she plucks my eyebrows.
"Where is Maya, exactly?" I say, wincing.
"He's waiting for us to finish with you," Laverna answers, sticking fake nails on my fingers. "We're almost done."
As irritating as my prep team is, I must say they do a wonderful job. When they leave me to go get Maya, my skin is golden and glowing, my hair is shining and fluid, and my makeup is flawless. I wish they would have let me keep more of my hair though. I find myself running my hand over my calf as I wait.
The door opens, revealing someone even more surgically altered than Claudia, Laverna, and Balbus put together. He is rather short, only about 5 foot 4 inches, but his spiky green hair makes him seem at least five inches taller. His face as been pulled and puffed and pinched in so many different ways that he looks surprised, happy, sad, and angry all at the same time. His skin is black and white stripes. He wears clothes so tight and indecent that he might as well be naked. I am automatically disgusted by this Maya and I want nothing to do with him. He's the kind of stylist that dresses us District Four tributes in skimpy outfits consisting of nothing but fishnets and seashells.
"Take off your robe," he instructs. I have to, but I scowl as I do. I stand straight and tall as he circles around me, trying to seem defiant as possible. He nods approvingly. "Good. You can put it back on now."
I do. Maya turns to me. "Have you had anything to eat since you came here?"
"No," I say. He waves me over to a small sitting area and orders exotic fruit circled by sauces of every color and consistency. He takes a round blue fruit and cuts it into slices, revealing firm yellow insides. He hands me a slice.
"Dip it in the red jelly," he suggests. "It's delicious."
I oblige. The jelly is cherry flavored and the blue fruit tastes like peach. It's surprisingly delectable. We eat the fruit in silence. My initial opinion of Maya is improving slightly. When the empty platters are taken away, Maya gets right to work. The first thing he works on is my hair. I actually end up dozing off as his nimble fingers style it. He wakes me up when he is done and starts applying makeup. Then he begins stenciling designs on my arms. It looks like waves. He paints my new nails silver. Finally, he looks me over and smiles. "Now we can get you in your costume. Close your eyes."
I don't like closing my eyes fully exposed like this, but Maya hasn't done anything offensive to me; in fact, he's been a complete gentleman. I hesitantly comply to his request. I feel heavy weight placed on my shoulders. There are a few adjustments, some accessories, and then Maya turns me towards the mirror and tells me to look.
I don't know what he's done. I am in a dress made of heavy silver scales that hugs my curves and falls mid-thigh. Every time I move they flash. The sleeves are a mesh material, that I assume is supposed to be like fins. My arms, neck, and legs are stenciled with the wave pattern. I look like there's a storm writhing beneath my skin. The pattern crawls up my neck and onto half of my face. The other half is done up in silver makeup; silver lipstick, silver mascara, silver eyeshadow, silver everything. My hair is done in a messy up-do, with silver fishhooks and things. He's even made my bangs look good. The hairs that are constantly falling in my face are hanging just above my eyes. The longer parts at the end swoop in my face. There is fishnet, but it's only tights. Thank goodness, he didn't put me in heels. I am in what seem to be black combat boots.
"Wow," I say.
"You are very 'wow' indeed," Maya agrees. As the finishing touch, he hooks my mother's pearl around my neck.
"I look..."
"Like you've just risen out of the ocean," Maya says. "Twirl."
I do. The fish scales flash magnificently. Maya allows himself a small smile. "Brilliant."
"Thank you," I say. "You're amazing."
"You're most certainly welcome," he says. "Just don't mess it up by tripping or something. I almost strangled the last girl who did that."
I laugh, but I'm not entirely sure if he's joking.
Since I took the longest to make up, the others are waiting for me in the hall. Quincy is stenciled like me and dressed in a fish-scale suit with black accents. Ophelia is giddy with admiration, practically jumping up and down in her excitement. Mags gives us a toothless smile. Nath is nowhere to be found. But it is Finnick's reaction that I find the most entertaining.
"Well, at least we have decent stylists this year," he says. Is it just me, or is his voice a bit unsteady?
A carriage pulled by golden horses arrives at the door. Me, Quincy, Finnick, Mags, Maya, and Quincy's stylist, Aelia, climb in. I don't know how we all fit. But cool evening air circulates through the windows, so it's not as bad as the limousine ride.
We arrive to the opening ceremonies, parked right behind District Three's electric blue carriage.
"Smile and wave," Finnick tells us. "Be as charming as possible."
I nod, watching the District Three tributes emerge from their carriage. They are dressed in what seems to be balls of wire. Not the best costume, but they seem appeased enough. Perhaps they're just happy not to be naked like the District One tributes on stage, covered in shimmering white powder. Only shimmering white powder.
Out carriage pulls up to the red carpet. Maya gives us a thumbs-up before Finnick shoves us out of the carriage.
I immediately latch on to Quincy's arm. I don't think I can do this alone. I put on my most dazzling smile. I wave. I wink. I blow kisses. The crowd is going insane, chanting our name, reaching out to us. I don't touch them. I can't touch them, not without a grimace replacing my forced smile. We finally make it on stage. Slowly, slowly, the other tributes arrive. There are some who have amazing costumes, like us. There are others whose costumes are worse than District One's. But Quincy and I get the most attention. With every camera flash, our fish scales shine. There are a lot of pictures taken.
By the time the opening ceremonies are over, it is well after midnight and my legs are incredibly sore. Maybe my balance wasn't the only thing that possessed Maya to not force me into high heels. I mentally thank him a million times over.
The carriage is in the exact same place as when we arrived, but Finnick and Mags are the only ones inside.
"The stylists were tired after such a long day," Finnick says with flourish.
Quincy chuckles, but I don't like the fact that Finnick is mocking Maya. He did get up early, by Capitol standards at least, and he did a wonderful job, better than any of us dare hope for.
"Well, I think he deserves a good rest," I remark. Mags nods in agreement.
"You, too," she says. I am awfully tired, but it's nothing I can't handle. When we get to the hotel, I say goodnight to Quincy and head to my room, too tired for the conversation I know he wants to have. I let down my hair, sighing as the pressure is relieved from my scalp.
The next thing I know, someone is knocking me into the wall. Struggle blindly before opening my eyes to find Nath's face inches from mine. He is pinning me to the wall with his body, his hot hands traveling places that I don't like. But he has my arms pinned too. I'm a pinned butterfly, waiting for dissection. He breathes in my face, and I gag as the sour stench of alcohol and vomit rushes in my face. Nath is drunk. Very, very drunk.
But he is no less powerful. His wet mouth is on my face, desperately trying to find my lips. Soon Maya's beautiful ocean design is smeared with slobber. I struggle and squirm. I even try falling limp. But nothing works.
"Get off!" I yell. "Get off me!"
I get a drunken guffaw in return and his lips find mine.
There is the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Nath is gone. I fall forward, away from the wall, to see Nath nursing his jaw.
"Thank you, Q - " I begin, expecting to see my older brother. But it is not Quincy standing in front of me. It is Finnick.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"Not yet," I say, zeroing in on Nath's whimpering form. I walk over and kick the body part that encouraged his assault on me. Nath doubles over in pain. "Now, I'm fine."
"I'll call the Capitol tomorrow," Finnick promises. "To come get him that is."
"Thanks," I say. As I wipe Nath's spit off my face, my hands begin to tremble.
Finnick looks at me with concern. "Annie? You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, I - I'm being stupid. I'm fine," I say, gripping my hands together and folding them in front of me.
"Do you need me to take you to your brother?"
"No!" I say. "If you do that, Nath won't be alive to see morning."
Nath is too preoccupied with his injuries to comment. Suddenly, he falls to the floor, unconscious. I begin to wonder how hard Finnick punched him.
"That is, if he doesn't die of alcohol poisoning first," Finnick remarks.
"Should we - ?"
"Oh, no. Someone will find him eventually," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room."
"You really don't need to - "
Finnick puts his hand over my mouth. "You're shaking. I'm taking you to your room."
I nod, shocked by his kindness. He removes his hand from my mouth, only to grab my elbow and steer me away from the scene. I'm beginning to think that Finnick isn't such a bad guy. Maybe the rumors aren't true. Maybe he's not a total player. But then last night pops in my head, and I shove the thought away. Of course he's a player. If he wasn't, then that means that last night meant something. And last night could not mean something. I've only just let go of my family; I don't need to gain another person to care about. If I do, then Quincy can use that against me. He can use that to convince me to try and win, even if it means...
When Finnick tries to take my hand, I pull it out of his grasp.
We finally make it to my room. I give Finnick a small nod. "Thank you, again."
"For what?"
"Punching Nath before he crossed the line. Walking me to my room. Calling the Capitol in the morning," I say. "Take your pick."
"Well, I think I should be thanking you," Finnick says. He slowly walks towards me, backing me up against the wall. He doesn't pin me like Nath did, but he puts his hands on either side of my face, keeping his body an arms length away but leaning in so our faces are close. I'm not a pinned butterfly; I'm a caged bird.
I gulp. "For what?"
"For looking so magnificent tonight," he murmurs.
"Oh, you should thank my prep team for that," I say with a weak laugh. "They're the ones who did all the work. In fact, I actually caused them a bit of trouble, with the gap in my teeth and all." I accompany this statement with a grin.
I am awarded with a small smile in return. "Well, I find your smile absolutely endearing."
"Oh, thanks," I say with a shrug. "I try."
The small smile becomes a full-blown grin, which evolves into a laugh. A real laugh, not a flirtatious sigh. The kind of laugh you give when someone has just told a funny joke. I cock my head to the side, confused. "What?"
"You!" he snickers.
I scowl. "What about me?"
"You're..." he pauses, suddenly sober. "...different."
I roll my eyes. "What? Do you expect every single girl you meet to fall into your arms and let you whisk them away into the sunset?"
"Yes." He says this with such a serious face that it's my turn to laugh. "What? You don't like princes?"
"I don't believe in happily ever after," I say. "Especially when..." I stop and look at my feet. Of course I don't get a happily ever after. I'm going to die in a few days. Finnick isn't laughing anymore either. There is a long pause. Too long.
"Goodnight, Annie," he finally says. Before I can say anything in return, he swoops down and gives me a swift peck on the lips. I've kissed other boys before, but none of them have ever made me feel like I do now. And Finnick's kiss lasted no more than a second. In fact, he's walking down the hallway before I even blink. I don't know what is so special about the kiss, but I don't want this feeling to go away. I stand in the hallway well after Finnick's left. Only do I go in my room when I hear Nath arising from his drunken stupor. Then I dart into my room and lock the door behind me. I even wait until I see his stumbling shadow pass my door before I go to bed.
I actually manage to make it to bed before the tears come. For once, these tears are not for me. They are for Finnick.
Surely it's going to be hard for him to watch me die.
**Mockingjay Spoiler Alert (Only for this author's note though)**
Any guesses for what Finnick and Annie's baby's name is? It never says in the book. I'd love to hear your answers. Any ideas?
~Smurf