"Looks like I got myself a fighter this year!" Haymitch says, grinning at me. I still haven't removed my hand from the knife in the table and Haymitch still hasn't gotten his hand on the drink. "What about you Pete? Or are you just as useless as the last two?"
"It's Peeta," he mumbles, angrily, "I'm not good at anything. You should just focus on Katniss." He stands up, excuses himself from the table, and leaves the dining cart.
"Fifteen year olds rarely win," Effie mutters under her breath. I forgot that he was a year younger than me. You wouldn't think it by his build and his maturity though.
"Can you hit anything besides a table with that knife?" Haymitch questions eagerly. I rarely use knives, the bow and arrow would be my pick of a weapon. But I decide to humour him. I pick up the knife, aim and throw it at the wall. It travels on a diagonal from where I aimed, heading straight for the glass window. I squint, willing the knife to move a few inches to the left. And it does. The knife lands right in the seam of the two wooden panels.
Telekinesis, I think, I finally have telekinesis! Haymitch cheers and claps loudly. "Young Lady! That is no way to behave," Effie scolds, "Honestly it's like you children were raised by pigs." Haymitch bursts with laughter at her statement, his bottle of spirits back safely in his hand. Normally this comment would infuriate me, and I'd be tempted to lash out. But right now, all I can think about is the fact that I finally have telekinesis, and with it all the power in the world. Maybe I have a chance to win this thing after all.
I excuse myself and walk back to my room. I stop outside my door, remembering my previous desire to ask Peeta why he volunteered. The urgency inside me, however, is to test out my telekinesis. So I quickly dismiss the idea and lock myself in my room. Who knows when I'll get the privacy to use my powers again.
I gather as many objects around my room as I can find. I come up with a button, a round candle, a silver pen and a shoe. Dissatisfied with my collection, I chuck the objects on my bed and turn to focus on the desk chair. Summoning all my might, I stretch my arms out in front of me and attempt to pick up the chair with my mind. It doesn't work. I try again and again before I've almost exhausted myself. I suppose this is why every Garde is given a Cepan, to teach them the tricks of the trade. Uncle Beau would know what to do. The thought fills me with sadness and I give up and fall onto my bed.
The pen underneath my back stabs me, and I remove the objects out from underneath me. We have a few hours until we reach the Capitol, so I try and busy myself. The round candle acts as a good ball and I lie on my back and throw it up in the air. I throw it higher and higher each time, totally consumed in the game. Just as I release the candle once more, I hear a knock at my door and I lift my head up to look. Suddenly remembering the candle in the air, I instinctively lift my hands up to my face for protection, but the candle never hits. The person knocks again but I'm too busy looking for the candle. I find it on the other side of the room in the corner. I bet my telekinesis knocked it away.
Ecstatic, I jump off my bed and run to the door and open it. Peeta stands there, with puffy red eyes. He has been crying again. It reminds me that I shouldn't be so happy at this point in time. "Hi," he says.
"Hi," I reply awkwardly. I really don't feel comfortable talking to this guy. I know he'll die soon. But before that, there's a possibility that he'll try to kill me.
"Look," he scratches the back of his head, "We're nearly at the Capitol and from there on out we'll be constantly watched and the prospect of dying in the games will probably change us. So I just wanted to take this chance to wish you good luck, and you know," he pauses, "I'm sorry this happened to you."
"I'm sorry this happened to you too."
We stand in silence for a moment, before Peeta offers me his hand to shake. I do so, just as the train screeches to a halt. We're here.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep me from screaming out in pain as Venia rips another wax strip off my leg. I wasn't expecting such pain the first time she did it. The glass vase on the windowsill shattered and startled the three members of my prep team. It was that moment that I realised I've had my telekinesis all along. The time Gale kissed me and the window cracked, the shaking of Haymitch's glass when I was angry at him. Uncle Beau was right – these things are controlled by emotions. I've bottled up so much anger over the years. With it I'll easily be able to control my legacies.
After being scrubbed down and relieved of my body hair for more than three hours in the Remake Centre, my prep team finally takes a step back to admire their work. I'm standing here completely naked, my skin red and raw, while the three scrutinize my look and mutter to themselves. Venia, a woman with aqua hair and gold tattoos on her forehead, approaches me and begins plucking stray hairs. Flavius, a funny looking man with orange corkscrew hair, applies a fresh layer of bright purple lipstick. Octavia, a plump woman with dyed pea green skin, uses a small square device to hail for a Cinna.
The three take one last look at my naked body and sigh in unison. "Well, now that we got rid of all the hair and filth, you're not horrible at all!" Flavius says encouragingly. I know this is a compliment of sorts, but it angers me nonetheless. I notice the shards of china, that were once the vase, begin to shake so I take a deep breath and let the comment roll off my back.
My prep team leaves the room as another Capitolite enters. "Hello, Katniss. I'm Cinna, your stylist," he says in a quiet voice which has a soothing effect on me.
"Hello," I reply. He doesn't look like all the others. No flamboyant costumes, no over the top makeup. Just a simple black shirt and trousers, with a single line of gold eyeliner on both eyes.
He walks around me, taking in what he has to work with. I kind of feel sorry for him having to make a beauty out of an ordinary girl. "Did your mother do your hair?" he asks nicely.
"No, I don't have a mother." I say bluntly. "My friend's mother did it. I guess she's like a mother to me," I add, knowing that he's only trying to be nice.
"It's beautiful. Classic, really. She has very clever fingers," he says.
"She is a very clever woman," I mumble.
"I bet she is," he says with a big grin. "Katniss, why don't you put on your robe and take a seat. We can have a chat." I do so and another decadent meal is brought out. As we eat, Cinna tells me about tonight. "Now my partner Portia and I have some big plans for yours and Peeta's costumes." Great, more mining uniforms. "We wanted to make this year unique, you know, really make District 12 stand out." I'll probably be naked. "Are you afraid of fire Katniss?" He sees my expression and grins.
Sorry, I had to mess with Peeta's age to fit the timeline of my story. It all works out in the end, don't worry :)