It takes me a few moments to realize that we are standing in utter silence. All eight members of our prep teams are staring at us. A crimson blush rises to my face, but Katniss doesn't seem to be bothered by this at all. She blinks at me, batting her sparkly eyelashes, and then stalks off towards Cinna. I'm completely confused. Just what is she getting at? Before this, she's never showed any interest in me. And suddenly, she's kissing my cheek and smiling at me like a lovesick ten year-old! I look over incredulously at Portia, and while she doesn't look stunned, she looks more than mildly surprised. I'm starting to feel desperate, and I throw my shoulder back towards Katniss as if to ask Portia for advice. She shakes her head ever so slightly, and I realize that she doesn't know any more than I do. How lovely.
I sigh heavily, and cross the distance between Portia and I. By now, everyone on my team surely knows how I feel, and I'm sure that Cinna suspects something too. Although, I couldn't really care less about what my prep team thinks, I honestly value Portia's good opinion. Katniss didn't need to go flaunting that if she didn't really mean it. Before I know it, I'm irritated at her. I'm irritated at her for kissing me – which is something I've been wishing to happen forever! Only she would be able to kiss me and somehow irritate me. It's just like Katniss. She's so complex I could probably spend my whole life trying to figure her out and never learn anything.
Just as Portia is about to say something, the door beside us bursts open, and out comes Effie Trinket. I'm initially shocked by her reappearance, because I thought that she was done once Katniss and I reached the Capitol. Apparently not! It seems that I get to enjoy a daily dose of Effie until I get into the arena. That's marvelous news. Apart from the fact District 12 is now immensely popular, I don't' see how this evening could get any worse.
"You both were ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!" She screams, ripping me away from Portia and crushing me into a tight hug. "Oh, I just knew that you two were going to be marvelous! I knew it! Even if you both are from District 12! No matter what anyone else told me, I said: 'You just wait; those two are going to be something else!' And you WERE!" She finally releases me, and I'm able to wriggle out of her entirely. After she's done with me, she waddles over to Katniss and makes a whole speech about how dazzling she was. And although I hate to admit it, I have to agree with Effie. Even though she's not on fire any more, Katniss is still beautiful.
After Effie babbles for another five minutes, she seems to realize that we're the last tributes standing in the stables, and she quickly herds Katniss and me through the door and into an elevator at the end of a dazzlingly white hallway. Thankfully, Portia and Cinna follow closely behind us, and I'm not sure where the prep teams have gotten off to. But where they went doesn't really matter: as long as I don't have to put up with Mercedes and Lileium being ridiculous for the rest of the evening, I'll be perfectly happy.
As the five of us settle into the elevator, I'm stunned to see that it has been crafted of pure crystal. Unlike the elevator in the Justice Building back home, this elevator is beautiful. I hardly pay attention as Effie punches the button marked: '12' with a fat fist, because I'm too busy looking at the Capitol below. Everyone seems to be throwing a huge street party. I look straight down at the clear floor, watching in amazement as the people get smaller and smaller as we rise higher and higher. Somewhere around the eighth floor, the colors being to blur, and now I can only make out moving dabs of green, blue, and pink where there are people moving about.
All too quickly, we arrive on our floor, but I'm reluctant to leave the elevator. It's so captivating. But I know that it would be foolish to use it any more than is necessary, and I don't want to appear dim-witted in front of Portia. But, as Effie marches on out, leading us to our separate rooms, and is blabbing incessantly about how she's been working all day to try and earn us sponsors, my mind is on Katniss. Only when she mentions how clever she was in saying how coal turns to pearls with enough pressure am I jerked out of my thoughts, and after sharing a quick glance of mild confusion with Katniss, I just go with it. Effie looks so pleased with herself that it would be heartless to correct her.
As we reach the end of the corridor, Effie directs Katniss to her room, and simply gestures at mine - which is across the hall. I'm not really all that bothered by the fact that she's paying more attention to Katniss, because I'm really used to it. I've been ignored all of my life, and a few offhand gestures from my escort aren't going to bother me. I can take care of myself.
But, just as I push open the solid oak door of my room, I'm stopped by a gentle voice calling my name.
"Peeta," says Cinna, and when I turn back to look at him, I'm greeted with a weary smile. "Before you get too comfortable in your room, why don't I show the rooftop? It's a great place to relax. Good place to unwind a bit, maybe clear your head." I know that although he sounds like he's trying to help me, he's really just looking out for Katniss. If he's anything at all like Portia, then I know I have a long conversation to come. Surely, she'd do this for me if my and Katniss' places were reversed. At least, I hope that she would.
I look at Cinna for a moment, searching his green eyes for the motivation behind this. I have a feeling that he's like Portia: he seems to genuinely care about Katniss. I feel like Portia and I are good friends, and I hope that Cinna is the same way with Katniss. If he wants to help her, that makes him my ally – even if I am irritated with her. I nod, and he takes off. I follow him down the sterile white corridor, through the door at the end, and then up the stairs to the roof. Once I've climbed the twenty steps, Cinna is waiting for me inside of a dome-shaped room. It's white too, but it somehow seems freer and airier. I decide I like it. Then, Katniss' stylist leads me out the single door, and I'm floored by the view.
From up here, you can see the entire city. Skyscrapers tower over us, the colored glass looking even more impressive up close. There are advertisements everywhere, the flashier ones being large television screens proudly showing off countless fashions and faces. I try to soak it all in, but I know that I'll never be able to. This place is disgusting. The Capitol is a horrible, monstrous, crime against humanity hiding in rose petals and shiny lights. Here, the Hunger Games are fun to watch, and I'm sure that someone will try to convince me that they're fun to participate in too. But at home, they're a nightmare. Everyone is terrified of being reaped, and everyone is terrified for the families that are ripped apart. By forcing us to participate in the Hunger Games, the Capitol is placing us all against each other, and dividing us with fissures that seem to crack Panem all the way to the core of the Earth. It's no wonder we don't stand a chance against the Capitol. There is simply no way that we can beat them; not when we're trapped playing their twisted Games like we are.
I try to keep the utter revulsion off of my face as I move towards the rail lining the edge of the roof. I lean over as far as I dare, looking down at the crowded, partying street below. For a split second, I consider climbing up the railing and throwing myself off the edge to die a peaceful death. But as I think it though, I realize that for one, then Katniss would have no one to make sure she makes it out of the arena, other than Haymitch, and I don't fully trust him yet – I doubt I ever will. And for another thing, I'm not ready to die yet. I don't want to die the death of a coward. If I die, then I want it to do someone good. I'll just wait until I get into the arena.
I turn my head towards the north, looking after a car speeding down on the street. I'm met by the wind, howling fiercely and plastering blonde curls to my forehead. I can hardly hear Cinna when he speaks.
"What did you think of your costume, Peeta?" He asks, suddenly appearing beside me. I look at him, and he's wearing a ghost of a smile on his face. I decide I like Cinna too.
"As soon as I realized I wasn't being cooked alive, I really liked it." I say, "You and Portia did a fantastic job."
"I'm glad you like it," he says, as if the approval of the Capitol and winning us sponsors are trivial compared to what Katniss and I think. I find it hard to believe that he truly values my opinion that much, but it's appreciated nonetheless.
We stand in silence for a few moments, because I'm not really sure what to say. It's not often that I'm treated kindly, and when I am, I tend to shell up. Almost like I'm trying to protect myself from being treated with respect – for whatever reason, I've always been like that. My mother always said I was a strange child.
"Cinna," I ask, unable to take the silence anymore, "Why do they let us up here? Aren't they worried some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?" Even though I've turned my gaze back to the street below, I have a feeling that he knows I was half-contemplating jumping over a few minutes ago.
"You can't." He says flatly. "Look." I follow his gaze to his hand, and as he reaches out into the night, I hear a sharp zap. Cinna draws his hand back as if he were burned, and although his expression doesn't suggest he's in pain, he rubs his hand gently.
"Oh," I say softly, and I'm glad I didn't try jumping earlier. There's no telling how burned I would have been. Cinna's quiet after that, and it makes me nervous. I can't stop thinking about Katniss kissing my cheek, and I know that's why he brought me up here. Why else would he? It should be Portia spending time with me, seeing as she's my stylist. And since Cinna is Katniss' stylist, I can't see why he'd be talking to me unless it concerned her. "Cinna?" I finally ask timidly, but I'm not really sure how to outright ask him about Katniss. Even though I'm sure that's why he's here, it would be awkward if he denied it. Maybe, he'd even force me to tell him how I feel about her. Cinna doesn't seem like the type of person to do that, but you never know.
Cinna seems to notice how uncomfortable I am. He looks away from the streets and meets my gaze.
"Yes?" He prompts, and he looks very patient. It gives me confidence.
"Why – why did you bring me up here? I mean, it's nice, but shouldn't you be showing Katniss this? Since she's your tribute and all." I stammer, trip over my words, and end up scarlet. Cinna looks seriously at me, and I have the sinking feeling that he can read my thoughts.
"You mean why me and not Portia?" I'm thankful for the answer he provides me with, and I'm sure the relief is evident on my face.
"Yes, exactly." Cinna looks thoughtful for a moment.
"I just want to get to know you a better. Seeing as Portia and I are presenting you and Katniss as a team, I thought that it would be wise to learn a little bit more about you, if not gain insight into the style you prefer." His answer makes sense, but it's avoiding the truth. If he does not want to admit it, I'm not going to press him into it. I just nod, and we stand in silence for another five minutes before he announces that it's nearly time for dinner. With a small, tired smile Cinna gestures back towards the dome, and I follow without question. As we walk past, I catch sight of a garden, and I wonder if it would be okay to see it. But, Cinna is walking rather quickly, and I realize that we may be late as it is. I'll just see the garden some other time, and head down for dinner now. Effie will not be happy if I'm any later to dinner.
As we climb down the stairs, Cinna offers a word of parting advice. "Peeta," He says, "I would suggest getting changed before dinner. The fabric that your costume is made from will begin to itch if it's left on your skin too long."
"Thanks," I say as he opens my door for me, and I see him disappear around the corner as I enter my room. Initially, I'm taken aback by how lavish my quarters are. They're even fancier than the train! Not mention that this room is larger than the entire bakery and the kitchens put together. The carpets are plush, and a rich cream color that screams extravagance. My bedding and the walls are a deep red color, eerily like blood. My nose wrinkles in distaste. In my final days before the Games, I was hoping to have at least one safe refuge from the pain that's sure to come, but apparently, even my own room carries a reminder of the unavoidable future. I try my best to ignore the walls as I stalk over to my closet, but it's impossible. With a sigh of disgust, I peel the black costume off of my skin, and I mess around with the programing screen on my closet until I get the hang of it. Without really paying attention, I select dark pants, a green shirt, and a light jacket. It was kind of cold up on the roof, but it was nice. I think I'll go back up there before I go to bed.
I can hear Effie knocking rapidly on my door. It must be time for dinner. I leave my costume on the floor because I'm not really sure what to do with it, and leave my room without a backward glance. The more I think of the red walls, the more I think of the Games, and the more I think of my impossible task. How on Earth do you keep someone alive when someone will constantly be trying to kill them? How am I supposed to watch Katniss' back when I've got to watch mine too? I know that there's no way I'm going to survive the Games, but I want to stay in long enough to make sure that she gets out. Otherwise… I don't want to think about the consequences of failing.
I pad quietly down the hall, and I'm thankful for Effie's absence. I assume that she's already in the dining room, gorging herself on the delicacies. As I think of Effie stuffing her face with tarts and pies, I suddenly remember Katniss with the chocolate frosting smeared across her face. I laugh softly at the memory. I can't believe that was only yesterday. I can't believe that I was home yesterday. I know that the Capitol is hundreds of miles away from District 12, but it feels like I'm millions of miles away from home, and my old life. I'm not even the same Peeta anymore. My biggest concern isn't trying to gather up the courage to talk to Katniss anymore: now it's trying to make sure she stays alive. Two days ago, I was worried about what she thought of me, and how I was going to ever get anywhere with her. I was busy plotting away conversations that would never take place, and hating myself for being such a coward.
Now, I have to be brave, or she dies. And if she dies… There won't be a reason for living. I'd sooner commit suicide then allow Katniss to die in the arena. I'd rather see her happy and with Gale than dead.
After a few turns down the corridor, I reach the dining room. I'm slightly surprised to see that Effie isn't pigging out at the table yet. In fact, she isn't anywhere to be seen. However, Cinna and Portia are here, standing on the balcony that overlooks the Capitol. I'm slightly nervous about intruding on them, so I linger in the doorway instead. I think they're talking, but from over here, I can't see what they're saying. No doubt, it's probably something about our interview costumes. Usually, those aren't nearly as flashy as the Opening Ceremonies costumes. The interview costumes are a way to gain insight into the tribute. Usually, the girls from Career Districts are stuffed into gaudy gowns. The males from the Career Districts nearly always wear black tuxedos.
I spend the next minutes worrying about what I'll be wearing to the interviews, and I'm jerked from my thoughts when Effie comes bustling behind me, rudely brushing past me in her haste. I look over my shoulder at her as she continues down the hallway, muttering something about manners. I wouldn't be surprised if she had just been to see Haymitch.
"Peeta!" Says Portia loudly, and I look back towards the balcony to see her smiling at me. Since when did she know that I was here? "Why don't you come over here with Cinna and me? We're discussing your costumes. I'd like to know what you think about something."
"I – Okay," I stammer, and I wander over to where the stylists are standing. I decide to stand by Portia since she's the one who called me over. She keeps smiling at me, and it makes me wonder if I'll be walking to my interview on fire. Although it turned out to be harmless, it was still nerve-wracking. I do not want a repeat of the fake flames. Though, it would certainly tie in with my District, but fire reflects Katniss' personality more than it does mine. I'm more like a lump of dough. Quiet, gentle, and pretty bland.
"So," starts off Portia, "We're thinking that we should continue with the flame thing, seeing how popular it was at the Opening Ceremonies-" She's so excited that it seems like she's talking a million miles an hour.
"Am I going to be on fire again?" I interrupt, desperate to know if I'll be burning again. It looked nice, and even though I liked it after I got over the fact I was burning, the thought of it makes me nervous. You can only defy the laws of nature so many times without getting burned. Portia winks at me, and there's a mischievous glimmer in her blue eyes. That worries me. A lot.
"Kind of," she says, and her smile is getting wider by the moment. "If you're asking if we'll be using the synthetic flame again, then the answer's no. We wouldn't want to set Caesar's couches on fire." I smile weakly at her. I'm relieved that I won't be on fire again… Surely, there can't be something worse than lighting us on fire. But judging from the look on her face, Portia has just come up with something that is.
But before she can continue, Effie is bustling into the dining room, saying that Haymitch will be joining us for dinner. She scrambles to the table, immediately taking her seat. She's placing a napkin on her lap, and then messing around with her silverware. The three of us start heading over towards the table slowly, and apparently, that isn't good enough for Effie Trinket.
"Well come on!" She says overly-enthusiastically, "Hurry up! Let's eat!" There's a hint of desperation in her voice. I think she's hoping to have us through the meal before Haymitch shows up. I don't really blame her. However, I'm the only one who picks up my pace. Cinna and Portia take their time, and in their own ways, they both look very amused. When they finally get to the table, Portia takes a seat beside me, and I'm grateful for it. I wouldn't want to be trapped sitting next to Haymitch. I have a feeling that he's still very angry with me.
As we wait for our food to be served, Cinna, Portia, and Effie talk politely. Effie is only gushing with praised for their costumes, and while Portia is accepting the praise with a smile, Cinna is incredibly modest. He and Portia are so different, it's kind of shocking. I secretly think that they would be a nice couple. I hope that Portia is having more luck than I am. But then again, she doesn't have to die for Cinna anytime soon. He's just a stylist. It's not like either of them will ever have to go into the arena. Even though I like them, it's kind of hard not to resent them. But then again, they are working on making sure that Katniss and I look good for the sponsors. I at least owe Portia understanding, seeing as she's helping me keep Katniss alive.
I glance around at the white-clad servants, wondering when we'll be able to eat. I'm actually getting kind of hungry. The last time I ate was back in the Remake Center, and that was probably a few hours ago. Just thinking of that chicken is making my mouth water. I hardly notice as Katniss joins us at the table. I catch her eye for a fraction of a second, but trying to see what she's thinking is like trying to read a brick. I concentrate on ignoring her for the rest of the meal, and that alone is a big enough task on its own. But soon enough, I'm provided with something else to worry about. Just as we're being served our food, Haymitch joins us at the table.
I don't think I've ever seen him so clean before. He's even shaved the gray, scraggly, scruff off of his face. Haymitch looks like he's five years younger without it. I think he's even put makeup on over the dark circles under his eyes. I can hardly imagine Haymitch condoning having makeup smeared on his face, because I know that I don't like it. He must have his own stylist who's forced him to do it.
One of the silent servers piles my plate high with food that smells fantastic, and offers me wine. I politely decline it, because seeing Haymitch has scared me into being sober. I refuse to end up like him. I won't even drink wine once. Water will be fine for me. However, I'm surprised to see that Katniss has taken some. I look at her incredulously for a moment, and she just shrugs. I stare at her for a moment longer, and I can't help but notice how her eyes are in stark contrast with the blue blouse she's wearing. Then, I remember that I'm supposed to be ignoring her. I spend the majority of the meal sneaking glances at Haymitch, torn between awe of his younger appearance and fear that he's going to launch himself across the table and strangle me. Although he's being surprisingly civil, he keeps glancing at me. There's a fire in his grey eyes that, quite frankly, scares me. At least I know that he'll only be helping Katniss in the arena.
I eat my food quickly, hardly paying attention to what I'm shoveling into my mouth. It tastes pretty good through. I start thinking about home, and I realize with a pang that Sesame is most likely dead. My cat was one of the few things I was sure that I shared a mutual affection with. My mother, no doubt, has already drowned her. Or even worse, gotten to her with a butcher knife. She threatened to slit Sesame's throat in a fury, once. There'd only be one reason to kill cat like that: to upset someone. Me, in particular. After that, I had taken Sesame over to Delly's for a week, just to make sure that she'd stay safe. By the time I brought her home, my mother had gotten over whatever it was that made her so angry, but that threat is the one that haunts me the most. It's the worst one that she's made.
And then, just as I decide that I'm fully, a huge cake is brought to our table. I look the swirled patterns on the icing longingly, suddenly struck with another bout of homesickness. But it gets even better. One of the servers takes out a weird looking contraption, pulls something that oddly resembles a trigger, and lights the cake on fire. With a whoosh the flames ignite, and I jerk backwards in surprise. I nearly fall out of my chair, but I somehow manage to grab a hold of the table before I topple backwards. The cake is fizzling and popping dangerously, and it takes me a few moments to get over my initial terror. Effie and Portia are wearing near identical expressions of fascination, Haymitch looks mildly amused, and Cinna is smiling gently. I look to Katniss, expecting surprise, and I'm met with something else entirely. She doesn't just look surprised; she looks terrified. In a single instant, the blood seems to leave her face, and she's staring wide-eyed at the server. I haven't been paying attention to the conversation before this, so I'm only able to catch the back end of it.
"-That's the last thing I wa – I know you!"
Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! You're the best! :D And Canadian-Girl14, I apologize for the inconsistency. I honestly meant ebony-skinned, and somehow, ivory came out :) Anyways, thanks for reading! Please review!
