Cinna is very good at what he does. I must say. He has the gift of gentle hands.
My body threatens to fall asleep as I stand on the makeshift platform he's made for me. He never pricks me, and he never pulls to hard on my hair or my arms and legs.
The material he's chosen is black, elastic, and extremely shiny. I'd probably hold out longer during measurements if it weren't so entrancing. Janie and I have snuck into Cinna's room several times to try and feel it while he's sleeping. He's caught us twice.
Speaking of Janie, here she is now.
"Hello Janie."
Cinna nods towards her as well.
"How are you today?" Because I always ask this of her.
She clutches at her stomach.
"Oh. That's unfortunate." I look at Cinna. "She has a stomach ache."
He grunts a little around a mouth full of pins. His face shows only focus and slight frustration.
"So," I say, holding out my arms slightly, "How do I look?"
Cinna's head lifts as well.
Janie sticks out her hip and points her lips out.
"I thought so." I nod, "I knew I looked fabulous."
Janie laughs.
"Janie. Do you ever wish you could be a peacock, all primped and beautiful?"
I stare at her, patiently awaiting her reply.
Her freckled face goes all weird, and her eyes rove around.
She pretends to throttle herself.
"I'll take that as a no." And I laugh.
And then I have to stop talking because Cinna has accidently jabbed me with a pin.
Cinna has made five different sizes of a black jumpsuit. They're fitted for any kind of body shape, slim, fat, busty.
Cinna told me that he's going to light the headdress on fire after the prep team is finished with them. Ha. I feel bad for the female tribute. I hope they don't talk her ear of too much. I might even get to meet her. Slim chances, but you know, maybe.
Cinna made a jumpsuit that is small enough to fit me. He says that I could keep it, depending on the size of the tribute. I sure do hope, out of selfishness, that whoever the tribute is isn't twelve.
The rest of the week passes and District 1 through 10 have been reaped. Cinna has passed out two times at meals - breakfast and dinner - out of fatigue, and nearly burned his face on the hot rice.
Janie is knocking at the door with a basket of cookies for Cinna. She's rather sweet on him, I think. Poor Janie. Poor Cinna. Poor me, unless I get my jumpsuit.
I think about when me and Cinna were small, we'd play around the house, me wearing black toddler clothes with the same fabric as the kind Cinna's jumpsuits are made of. He'd run around nimbly, and I'd try to follow on my chubby feet, often falling. I remember screaming with laughter, even as I fell. I sigh, through one of Janie's cookies. She's such a good cook.
"Rhinestone!" a shrill voice brings me back to earth, "Rhinestone! What are you eating? I don't see anything in your hand! Turn on the television, I'd like to see the reaping!" I heed my mother's commands, leaning forward and bringing the screen to life with the touch of a switch. The loud noises and brightness overwhelm me and I cover my ears with my hands.
The reaping of Eleven is still on, I watch as a girl my age, "RUE WILLARD!" is called, it's sad to watch, you can hear a pin drop because no-one is going to applaud or volunteer for her. My throat catches, and I feel pity for the girl as I watch the silent tears drip down her cheeks. She looks like she's made of bird bones.
Next they call "THRESH DONNOVAN!" and this tall muscular boy with the same dark complexion and dark hair as the girl comes up to the platform with an uncomfortable expression on his face. He reminds me of my stuffed animal cow. Then they smash cut to the Panem anthem and crest and the screen fades to black.
We have to wait another day for District 12 and Cinna hasn't slept a wink. His eyes have dark circles. Its mother that suggests he puts something else on his face to distract from the circles. He wanders back to his room and comes back with gold eyeliner on his eyes, the kind he used when he was he was 13, around my age, when it was fashionable to wear metallic eyeliner.
Tomorrow Cinna will leave to help with the chariots of District Twelve. He needs to leave at 2:30 sharp in the morning. And if I want to see him again, I'll have to get up superbly early too.
Mother doesn't care though. She decides that she's going to throw a party tonight, and invite everyone that Cinna knows well.
I take a short nap at around noon and wake up to find the house smells overwhelmingly of snack food and spirits. I wander out of my room with my night shirt hanging off of my bare shoulders and my hair disheveled. I find ten sets of eyes staring back at me, and I emit a high pitched squeak.
Octavia pulls me back into my room, and pulls a peach colored dress from out of her sleeve. Or somewhere. She tells me to put it on and hands me a brush.
I come back out of my room five minutes later, the peach colored dress is itchy and covered in minuscule lights that move and blink whenever it shifts. It's pretty, but it isn't comfortable at all.
Flavius walks up to me and says "Oh my goodness, Venia, isn't she just precious?" And I cringe, and stick my tongue out at him when his back is turned. I watch his curls bounce as he walks off.
I sit on the couch which is covered in strangers, and try to process my situation. This place smells like bitter and dry liquid, which I now find out is called wine. Mother will not allow me to turn on the television and I become bored and start kicking the air with my feet.
This is stupid. Why do I have to be here? This is unfair. At least Cinna is happy.
I turn around and sit on my knees and watch Cinna over the back of the sofa. He is happily mingling with his friends and taking sips of this small fluted glass.
Octavia is walking around tipsily, and Venia seems to have passed out on the kitchen counter. Flavius is doing the jig with my mother in front of the big window.
I find myself laughing, and I find Cinna's warm laugh has joined in as well. This whole thing is so ridiculous. Everyone is so drunk.
Octavia stumbles towards me, and gives me a hug. The smell of alcohol on her breath almost makes me want to throw up. But I stomach it.
"Thank you baby." She croons in my ear, "Thank you baby, I looovvee youuu…." She squeezes me to the point that I think she's going to crush me.
And then she abruptly releases me, and floats down to the ground, unconscious.
As the night goes by, I watch the colors flash by as I sit in my same spot on the couch. I watch as stranger after stranger walks out the door, and eventually the prep team. Then I stare out the window as the moon dances.
"Look Mama … the stars are singing."
And it all goes black. |
