Effie glued her face to the train window, trying to keep her eyes on her sister for a little longer. Then she was left there, sitting in the fancy cabin without paying any attention to the comforts around her, feeling only the fear of finally being alone off to an unfamiliar place with people who were nothing but strangers to her.
Plutarch tried to hard to be kind, and every five minutes he and Fulvia, his secretary, came to check if Effie was well. She was offered tea, coffee, juice, toast... Maybe a hot bath? A comfortable bed?
But Effie wasn't listening. She was stuck in the mental state Cleitus had left her last night, perfectly aware that there was nothing in the world that could make her feel better. Except maybe—
"It is true?" she finally spoke. Plutarch looked at her with interest. "What you said at the station? If I win this contest... Are you going to feed District 12?"
Plutarch motioned for Fulvia. She took an envelope from the table, brought out some papers and handed them to Effie. "It's all there, the rules. President Snow's orders. He'll deal personally with the winner. All you have to do, Miss Trinket, is sign it." He pulled a gold-plated pen from his coat pocket and offered it to Effie.
She took the pen and looked at the papers. Could it be that a paper with some writing on it could really change the lives of so many people? And hers in particular? Effie focused on what the contract said — the competition tests were individual and were worth points in the form of votes for the runners. The girl one with fewer points at the end of each test, would be eliminated and would have the choice to stay in the Capital or return home with nothing. At the end of the contest, the top three selected would receive votes from the audience that would decide the winner.
"As soon as you sign it, you'll become our property for as long as the contest lasts," said Fulvia, who was rather rude.
Effie's heart raced — she didn't like the idea of being owned by anyone. Wasn't that just the kind of thing Cleitus would say to justify his actions? Had coming been a terrible choice? Was she going somewhere even worse than the place she was leaving behind? Was that even possible?
"What does that mean?" she asked, fearing the answer.
Fulvia shrugged her bony shoulders. "You'll have to take care of yourself. If you fail to follow the rules (they are detailed on the other sheet), you will be eliminated and sent home. Nothing much."
Nothing much for her who lived in the Capitol with all the comforts that money could afford.
"You'll have to take these vitamins," she handed Effie a bottle of purple pills. "You're very thin, you need the nutrients. You'll see how your skin, your hair, your digestion, everything will improve. One per day." She consulted an electronic device. "As soon as we get to the Capitol, you'll be to see a doctor, to find out if you need any special attention, if you have any problem, that sort of thing."
"We need you to understand the rules before anything else," Plutarch said, still with that curious look on his face. "Things will be pretty simple."
They waited for Effie to give a sign that she was listening, then Fulvia continued: "You will not be allowed to leave the complex unaccompanied, anywhere. I can't stress that enough, Miss Trinket. People will cheer for the girls, but there will also be those who desire to eliminate the competition."
Effie didn't like the way Fulvia said eliminate but she remained silent.
"The only person who can eliminate you from the contest, in case you are not the competitor with the least votes, will be President Snow. He has full authority to sent home anyone he doesn't like."
He sounded like an idiot. Effie had watched Snow's elections, even though she wasn't old enough to participate. It had happened two years ago, and he had been the youngest elected president in the history of Panem, only twenty-seven years old. His promises seemed fair at the time and no one hesitated to vote for him, but in his two years of service, Snow had yet to take action to end the hunger in the poorer districts.
"While no one expects you to get along with the other contestants, you are strictly forbidden to quarrel with them physically — and here, I warn you, that verbally quarreling isn't advisable either —, or try to sabotage them during the contest. If you're caught trying to harm your competitors, it'll be in the hands of Snow to punish you. The girl who has the most votes in each test, shall be awarded with special prizes, such as tours of the Capitol or other districts, and you can even bring a companion, anyone of your choice. "
"Like your sister," Plutarch said with an encouraging smile.
"You may not wear any clothing that has not been specifically made for you on our orders," she gestured to herself and Plutarch, "just as you may not opine on what you should wear throughout the contest. And most importantly: on weekends there will always be some event or other, Miss. Trinket, and your presence will be imperative. Dances, dinners, interviews, no matter what, you will attend wearing costumes of our choice and you will be courteous and attentive to everyone you meet until you become the face of Panem. Any questions?"
"No." That final part, although extremelly serious, was what Effie had expected which made it easy to bear.
Plutarch jumped to his feet and clapped his hands. "Perfect, now you sign it."
Effie was left alone after that. And that was how she wished to stay, because soon after signing the contract the tears began to come. She had thought she had no more tears inside her — hadn't she cried them all already? — but she'd been wrong. It still hurt. Everything still hurt.
She wondered if any of the other girls had cried in the train to the Capitol. Was it only her? Only her struggling to remain whole while leaving all traces of familiarity behind?
As the train slowed, bright light flooded the compartment, and Effie lifted her head. There it was — the Capitol, the ruling city of Panem.
The cameras had not lied about its greatness; it was possible they hadn't captured it in its entirety. The magnificence of the buildings shimmering in a rainbow of colors that rose in the air, the gleaming cars that passed through the wide paved streets, the people who dressed in strange ways, with bizarre hairstyles, their faces painted, and who had never experienced hunger in their lifetime.
All the colors looked artificial, the pink was too deep, the green too bright, the yellow painful to the eyes. People began to point and wave at her. Quickly, Effie took a step away from the window, feeling nauseated, and went to take refuge behind the bar, from where she only came out when the train entered the station, blocking her from sight.
It was time to be strong. She couldn't let them see her cry. The good things in her life were being left behind, but so were the bad. And Effie had to make room for new things. Pain and fear would have no place in this adventure. Cleitus would cease to exist. She would not mention his name — nor think it. He was not welcome here. That was the only rule she was needed to follow.
Fulvia came running to meet Effie and uttered a muffled shriek: "You didn't even wash? Go now! You can't get off this train in this state!" She made Effie take a shower and then brought her a simple green dress and matching flats. "Well, at least you're clean," she said, not knowing what to do with Effie's hair.
Plutarch appeared. "Well, everyone already knows who's District 12′s competitor. They're thrilled to have a look at you. You ready?"
Effie let go of who she was and made room for who she needed to be. "Yes". But when the doors opened, she realized she'd been mistaken again. The screams were deafening, the lights made her dizzy — there was a lot of people waiting to welcome her; she had not been ready for that.
An aisle had been improvised so she could pass in between the crowd that cheered and jumped and waved. Every twenty feet there were guards to keep them in line.
Hesitantly, Effie took a step forward and raised her hand to wave back. Immediately, she knew that had been the right choice. She had to turn her head from side to side — everyone was calling her name! They reached out to touch her arms and hands as she walked by. They raised stylized flags saying DISTRICT 12 and handmade posters with her name on it. They loved her without ever having met her.
In the right corner, Effie found a little girl that reminded her of Ingrid. She wanted an autograph. At her side, an older woman wanted to shake Effie's hand. Behind her, a man asked to kiss her hand and some others wanted to give her roses. Effie did as they required, tried to please them, gave them smiles and sent air kisses back. It was as if a robot had taken hold of her body. Her actions were almost programmed, in spite of how much she wanted to run away and hide.
She stayed a good half an hour at the station. Plutarch and Fulvia seemed to approve. Effie left with them, carrying what had now turned into a bouquet, completely and absolutely shocked of having survived all of that.
Thinking about the cameras and their flashes, Effie wondered if Ingrid would be watching all that — and if so, would she be proud and also cheering for Effie? After all, it was all for her.