"I can see that you're a very smart girl, Hermia", Snow estimates.

That's not exactly what I was expecting.

"Please, sit down", he offers gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk.

I thank him and sit down. He smells strongly of roses and something else sweet which I can't really figure out.

"Does your father ever discuss work with you?" he questions.

"No, not really", I answer confused about the turn in the conversation.

"You do watch the Games, don't you, darling?" he continues determined.

"Yes, of course, sir", I smile.

"Do you have a favorite tribute?" he asks.

"The girl from 2, Clove. She got a score of ten", I play along obediently.

No interrogation or hard questions. I'm relieved.

"She's quite feisty, isn't she?" Snow agrees "Although the girl from district 12 scored even better. Why do you think that is?"

I shrug and look at Snow questioningly.

"Your father, he likes an underdog." he responds thoughtfully, "What about you, darling? Do you like an underdog?"

I shake my head.

"No", Snow says emphatically, "I thought so. Perhaps you take after your mother then?"

"I don't know but I don't think dad means any harm", I assure nervously.

"I know, child. But you see, we are dealing with serious business here, business that shouldn't be messed with", Snow clears in a grave tone, "You should discuss about the matter with your father. You certainly could speak some sense into him."

Why does Crane like an underdog? That's what I've always felt like, an underdog, never belonging, escaping inside of my own head dreaming of something better and trying to forget myself by doing something reckless and never appreciating what I have and least myself. I've always found it hard to be in my own skin. Being the very best has been the way to deal with my insecurities. That's why I've been always so infuriated when Cato has beaten me. It made me feel worthless. If I wasn't the best there was no purpose for me. My father hardly talked to us and my mother, she sold us. My sister Genna is wonderful but she moved away when I was eleven. She found a good husband who she could continue father's trade with. And she being eighteen and I eleven, our age gap felt too huge for bonding at the time so I really never got to know her. I think she helps mother with the charity and that I don't understand. Four years ago Marlowe was killed in the Games and mom still insisted on training me and Raff. Me I can understand since I was already fourteen but Raff was only seven. He could've stopped the program and still learn fishing. But again I wasn't enough. I know I can't blame mother for Marlowe's death because the ironic thing is he never got the training. He was never a career. Marlowe didn't have to volunteer. He was chosen. I think it would've been much easier if I could've just hated mother and focused all the anger on her but it just didn't feel right. She isn't guilty. It was only bad luck. Even though I was an emotional wreck that was the year when I got on the top. The sorrow and anger inside of me that I couldn't take out on mother worked as a fuel for my training and little by little I started to forget, forget how important Marlowe had been to me, forget how close we had been.

Actually I think I've been lying. There was a moment I felt like I belonged. That one year before Seale volunteered. I was very hyped for Seale because I knew he could make it. He was nothing like Marlowe. Seale wasn't a poor 12-year-old boy who got chosen by accident. This was Seale, the best of the best, my older brother who I admired and respected and who also respected me even though I wasn't as skilled or as good as him. That year we suddenly grew closer despite our age gap. Seale showed me that if I was going to be good, I shouldn't be afraid to lose. First I didn't get what he meant but as he kept encouraging me to test my limits and make mistakes to learn from them, then little by little a mental weight lifted off my shoulders and I finally started to feel I had life under my control which now seems funny to me since nothing actually changed. I just started to love my prison. Even though everything was a lie, it was still the best year of my life and sometimes, I have to admit, I long for the sweet ignorance of not knowing and most importantly not caring what it was like outside of my own little bubble. Still, all good things have to end.

Watching Seale's games poked tiny holes to my bubble which let in doubt and anxiety. I tried to pluck the holes for almost three years but gradually my bubble was becoming feebler and feebler. I was feeling the suffocating weight on my shoulders again and even Seale couldn't help me. After the Games his energetic and lively self had turned into a mere shadow of it. I figured I should get inspiration by watching some of the previous games so I went to the library and randomly picked a game from a couple years ago. What I saw wasn't what I had hoped for. It was more than just action and gore. It was tributes trying to find food and water to keep themselves alive, sleeping on the hard ground and trying to find shelter from the vicious careers. Much more than just fighting. At first I thought it was just a bad year. Where were the noble heroes who fought for their people? Where were the triumphant champions who brought pride to their districts? All I could see was ordinary teenagers fighting in a fucking swamp. I got really angry. How could even the tributes from my own district be so damn lousy? They were suppose to inspire me, not make me feel ashamed of them.

I decided I'd seen enough so I switched to a newer one and was even more annoyed. What was wrong with the tributes? Maybe it was that the modern generation was ruined and no one just wanted to say it out loud. I didn't like the thought but that would explain it all. I tried to watch one of the older games but they were all the same shit. I even tried the legendary ones like Enobaria's or Finnick's or Cashmere's. That was it. That's when my bubble finally blew up. I realized the tributes were people. I realized we were individuals even in the academy, not just a faceless mass to be molded however liked. As I understood it, I felt like everything was disgusting. I hated everything, everyone, especially myself for being so stupid. So when Crane appeared out of the blue and told me about a new wonderful bubble that I could be part of, of course I jumped head first in the water. I know I can swim and that the water is my friend but the thing I didn't know was that the water would be full of piranhas not just the usual trouts and salmons.

I feel questioning eyes on me, the eyes of the king of the piranhas. I'd rather call Snow a shark but piranhas live in rivers and sharks in the sea so that would be plain weird. I think I wouldn't jump head first in a river though. Okay, I think you got the point.

"Sorry, sir?" I utter nervously.

I hadn't been paying attention.

"Do you want something to drink, darling? Lemonade, tea, coffee?" Snow offers.

"Coffee, please", I answer and Snow calls out an avox from the next room and delivers my order.

As the avox brings my coffee as quickly as things happen in the Capitol I hear a knock from the door behind me. Crane.

"Will you open the door, dear?" Snow asks and I comply.

As I rise up I feel the dizziness rushing to my head again. Damn, why is it so much harder standing up? I take support from my chair and get myself to walk to the door somewhat decently. I feel my skin heat up from the resolute effort which I'm putting into trying to keep my mind sharp and my body in control. I open the door and greet Crane and Snow's granddaughter with a brilliant smile. I present myself to the sleek 12-year-old-looking girl and shake her hand. She tells her name is Celestia. I compliment her name and make her smile.

"This is Seneca's daughter, dear", Snow says to his granddaughter gesturing to me.

"Yes, I heard from Mr. Crane, grandpa", she notifies still looking at me as if trying to make out her opinion about me.

"Seneca and I still have things to talk about so why don't you show Hermia around, darling?" Snow suggests not expecting an answer and continues this time directing his words at me, "Take your coffee with you, Hermia. It's the best in Panem."

"I'm sure", I smile and take the coffee carefully from the desk.

I take a sip from it and nod in approval. On my way out my eyes meet with Crane's. I can't read his expression. It's something between worry and relief. I turn my eyes away.

"Let's go", Celestia says cheerfully taking my hand.

"Have fun, girls", Snow wishes wanting to get rid of us already.

"We will, grandpa", Celestia promises and then turns to Crane "Bye, Mr. Crane."

Crane and Snow wave us goodbye and Celestia takes me out of the room.

As the door closes behind us she takes a look at me from my head to toe and asks eyeing me suspiciously:

"Are you drunk?"

Well, somebody caught me.

"A bit. Why?" I reply calmly.

"Really? Can you get me something?" she asks her eyes filled with excitement.

"No. I don't think your grandpa would like that", I argue.

"Please, you're only a couple of years older than me. Besides I just want to taste a little", Celestia keeps insisting.

"How old are you?" I question her.

"Almost thirteen", Celestia says with the same determined expression I saw on Snow's face just a minute ago.

"Almost thirteen… No! I'm not going to get you any alcohol" I hold my stance.

She starts giving me shade.

"Besides it's there for the taking. If you want it just go get it yourself", I argue.

"Fine, I will", Celestia promises and marches confidently towards the ballroom.

"Celestia, wait", I try to stop her but she just keeps fastening her pace.

"Fine, I'll do it", I comply preventing her from disappearing into the crowd.

Celestia turns in her heels and smiles at me radiantly:

"I knew I liked you."