So, sup people? There are some things that I really want to tell you about this story because it's awesome but I can't because it would ruin it and I enjoy torturing you so... *singsong voice* I know something you don't know! *talks normally* Anyway, um... Peter Pan reference somewhere in there. Yeah, I don't know where that came from. I got my Hunger Games DVD! YAY! It was awesome, and I have, like, three hours of special features to watch, lol. Okay, so, I start school tomorrow (Sherman have mercy!) so I will probably be updating every ten days, but... that's what I do already so, yeah. I mean, I considered doing what everyone else does and publishing a chapter every week (like, I'd probably do this story on Fridays) but I don't know... I might. I don't know. Anywho, enjoy the chapter!

Rivera: She doesn't own anything. Except me, Cyrilla, Harcourt, and herself, even though none of us are in this chapter. Whatever. I hate you all.

Finnick Odair

I wake up to a cat meowing in my face.

"AH!" I shriek, shoving the furry creature off me roughly. The brown tabby hisses at me and leaps onto the ground next to the bed, looking up at me expectantly with big green eyes.

You wouldn't believe what room I'm staying in. The entire place is pink and every inch of exposed matter is coated in sparkles. It burns my eyes. Ragdolls (both the cats and the toys) sit on the shelves, and the carpet is a light pink fur that tickles my feet when I walk.

"What?" I grumble, sitting up and stretching.

He meows at me again, his eyes narrowing a little, as if he expects me to understand what the heck he's saying.

"Scruffy is right!" Glimmer exclaims happily, coming out of no where. She's a morning person. I hate morning people. "You need to get ready, Finny! Your train leaves in an hour and a half!"

"Don't call me Finny." I frown.

"You call Johanna Jo." She shouts back.

"Touché." I nod, raising an eyebrow. Glimmer is truly a worthy adversary. "Wait, how did you know that?"

"Um," She says, looking dumbstruck. "I… um… I made pancakes!"

"PANCAKES!" I scream, suddenly awake, vaulting over the bed and racing down the pink hallway. I leap onto the stair rail and ride down it like it's a slide, bursting into the kitchen. Cato already sits at the table, eating some of the flat waffles. A silver tabby sits next to him with a bib tied around her neck as she drinks from a glass bowl of milk, which is located next to her plate of catfish which rests on fine china. Meanwhile, in the seat I assume I'm to sit in, Glimmer through a few pancakes on a paper plate that has turned soggy from the maple syrup.

"Hey, Finnick," Cato nods. "You've got to try these pancakes, they're amazing!"

"Glimmer is insane!" I blurt, sitting across from him. He looks up at me, confused, waiting for me to continue. "No sane person has this many cats. And she knew that I called Johanna Jo!"

"So?" Cato rolls his eye brows. "Johanna probably told her that."

"They get along?" I ask in surprise.

"Yeah, they're like best friends."

"Really?" I blink in surprise. "I would have thought they'd be, I don't know, mortal enemies. I mean, given how Jo has absolutely no matters whatsoever and hates almost every soul to walk the earth…"

"Well, it's kind of a best frienemy thing, honestly."

"Oh," I nod in understanding.

"Oh, there you are, Princess!" Glimmer laughs, walking in. I'm going to hope she's talking to the cat. She pulls out a mini tiara and places it on the head of the silver tabby.

"You've got to be kidding me." I deadpan.

"What?" She asks, looking perplexed at my response to this action.

"You just gave a cat a tiara." I gape.

"Not just any tiara," She says proudly. "A diamond tiara!"

"You've got to be kidding me." I mutter, falling over in exasperation.

"She won the District One Beauty and Brutality Pageant a few years back." Cato tells me. "So she's loaded."

"Oh, Finny," Glimmer squeaks happily. "Are you going to eat your pancakes? Mister Whiskers says that he wants some, and yours are the only ones left besides Cato's."

"That's it!" I shout, leaping to my feet. "We're leaving now!" I grab Cato by the wrist and drag him out of the house, carrying our bags in my other hand.

"But-but," Cato says as we start to get further and further away from the house.

"What?" I hiss, through clenched teeth. He looks like he's about to cry. What's wrong? Is he hurt? Oh my gosh, what if I'm cutting off the circulation to his hand and we're going to have to cut it off? He's going to have to get a flying ship and be voiced by Hans Conried and be afraid of ticking alligators and, oh my gosh, what have I done? "Cato, what is it? I'm so sorry! Please tell me!"

"I never got to finish my pancakes!"