Chapter 77- Astrid Clearwater
"The ball at the President's Mansion is going to be beyond anything you could ever imagine!"
For once in her life, Delia Charm was right.
"You'll see that the mechanics are impressive," Beetee says quietly, but just loud enough that I can hear him over the exploding sounds up ahead of us, mixed in with loud music.
"Which mechanics?"
"The timings on the fireworks take quite a bit of engineering," he continues, raising his glasses up to look under them. "Very clever."
"Did you design them?"
"I have designed similar mechanisms."
Breathe, Astrid. No weakness. No weakness.
"They've decorated it nicely for me," I say, but I can feel my hands shaking. Can't let him see, I won't let him see. I'm fine. Just excited. Excited for the party that they're holding just for me, because I'm their shining victor. Their Career victor from District 3.
I'm excited. I am. I'm fine. I'm not weak.
"It took months of planning!" Delia chirps, tottering forward on heels that make her tower over me and Beetee. She's patting her wig into place; it looks the same as always, except she's put a model boat into the side of it tonight.
She looks like another Capitol idiot, just like the rest of them.
"Enjoy tonight, Astrid. This is all for you," she says, gesturing towards the glittering people and the fireworks exploding overhead, all getting closer. I can feel the music in my bones and pounding in my head. Or maybe it's just my head. I don't know.
I'm fine. No weakness.
"And I deserve all of this," I say.
I do. I do deserve this. Because I wasn't weak, because I didn't let the arena break me. Because I won. I'm a victor, I'm a Career victor, and I'm going to be their shining victor tonight. I can't be anything else.
I wasn't weak, so I won.
Another firework explodes over my head in the shape of the Capitol seal, making a sharp pain shoot through the side of my head, cutting me open like a knife-
Like her knife-
No. No weakness. Not tonight. My head is clear; the cracks are all smoothed over. I'm fine. I'm the victor, the Career victor, and I'm fine.
Fine.
"Smile!" Delia chirps behind me, and then I can't hear her, I can't hear Beetee.
The music echoes inside of my head as the crowd swallows me up, surrounding me with color and feathers and sequins; people stand around me with horrifically altered faces, champagne glasses in hand.
Standing around me like the night in the rain, the night-
I'm fine.
"Congratulations!"
"Congratulations on your victory!"
"Astrid Clearwater!"
"Congratulations!"
"Thank you! Thank you!" I smile at the people around me, all pressing in to see their new victor.
Every step I take towards the doors leading into the mansion itself is lined with people, and I start to focus on individual faces as I go by. There's a man with a long orange mustache, holding a pocket watch; a woman with spiked blonde and pink hair, and pink eyelashes that are impossibly long. A matching couple with blue skin and plaid jackets.
I can't help comparing them to the people in the districts. How simply they dressed in District 11; even in District 1, which is supposed to be the luxury district, they didn't come close to the Capitol. This, this right here, is what our efforts in the districts lead to. Stupid and bizarre clothes for shallow and idiotic people.
The activity behind the crowd keeps pulling my eyes towards it; strange animals dancing with their trainers; the fireworks shooting off into the sky; another one explodes into the gold seal of the Capitol, with their eagles and laurels. Men in green coats breathe fire over the people, and somewhere there's that music playing so loud I can feel it in my bones.
"It's Astrid Clearwater!"
"Congratulations!"
They do love me. I am their victor, their first District 3 victor who isn't Beetee or Lights, and they love me. The districts can hate me, the whole of Panem can hate me, at least there's a place full of light and shimmering colors that loves me for what I've done.
But I don't need them. Beetee was wrong. I like their attention, but I don't need them. I'm an unbreakable victor, and victors don't need anyone. I got myself out of the arena, and I don't need anyone to help me now.
They're idiots, but they still love me, and I'll enjoy it while I can. Even though I don't need their adulation.
I don't.
A couple of them reach out to touch the material of my dress; thick and green, with embroidered dark green flowers decorating the skirt.
Don't touch me.
I'm fine. Victors let themselves be touched. But my fingers still twitch when they run their fingers over my arms, feeling the straps and the top of my dress. It doesn't hurt. I'm unbreakable.
No weakness.
For just one second, I spot Beetee in the crowd, but he doesn't see me. I hate him too, because he's still keeping his secrets from me. We're in the Capitol, and he still won't tell me anything, so how can I ever trust him? I can't, I know I can't. But there was that insane second in District 2 where I wanted him to help me. I don't know. I don't know.
The only person I can trust is myself, because I was the one who got myself out of the arena. Not Beetee. Not my mother and brother, not Elowyn or Delia or Sparkle. Me. I won because I was the best. I was never weak, and that's why I won.
I killed Dominicus and Circuit, and I won.
No weakness. No weakness.
The music and voices and hands touching, touching me is making the glass pieces in my head start to crack. I can't lose control, not tonight. I need to have my head together; I need to think my way through tonight so that I can get my blue silk and go home to hide under the covers.
"You're so beautiful!" A woman with an extremely high Capitol accent clasps her hands, beaming at me with jewel encrusted teeth. "Just look at you!"
"Thank you!" I can see a camera out of the corner of my eye, and I smile brighter. I'm fine. I'm loving the attention. "You look wonderful too!"
"You're so kind!" She chirps back at me, and smiles so hard that her eyes squinch up into narrow slits. She's an idiot, but I can't hate her.
The cameras and the people behind me are closing in on each other, erasing the path I followed to this spot. They're all talking, shouting, laughing; I can't fragment out here, I can't. I won't.
"The inside of the mansion is often quieter."
My hands twitch when I startle, until I realize it's Beetee.
"I don't mind the noise," I say, holding my head high. It's true. I love the noise because it's all for me. They're all here because of me. Because I won. Because I was the best. "But I do want to see what it looks like inside."
"This way," is all he says, but the crowd parts for him, and me too since I'm following Beetee. Someone, I don't know who, presses a glass of champagne into my hand, and they're gone before I can say I don't want it.
Champagne is part of the fun tonight. I'm fine. I can do this. I'm unbreakable.
Beetee leads me towards the tall white doors standing open at the top of two sets of blue lit stairs; a fountain spurts water into the air in between the marble steps. A few people clap for me and I smile at them, holding my skirt up with one hand, and keeping the champagne glass steady with the other.
"Congratulations!" is the last thing I hear before I step through the doors engraved with the Capitol seal, and into a room with a ceiling as tall as three floors of the Technology Center in District 3.
Beetee was right; it is quieter in here, but not by much. The music is softer, not as insane as outside, and it doesn't drive through my head like a knife-
I'm fine.
The room is bigger than my whole house back in Victor's Village; I forgot about how large it was, because I was lost the last time I was here. The middle of the room is taken up by people dancing, and around them, Avoxes dressed in red uniforms hurry around holding trays of food and champagne glasses.
I apologized to one last time I was here. A girl. I barely remember it, but I apologized to her. And I don't know why. Maybe because we're both trapped; both prisoners of the Capitol. Maybe because we're both voiceless, but I still have my tongue to tell the Capitol's lies.
Maybe because I was sorry that I couldn't help her. I don't know.
I don't know.
"Isn't the champagne wonderful?" A short, squeaky woman dressed entirely in pink is holding her own glass up to me. "These parties always have the best."
The glass shakes as I raise it to my lips and take a sip. The bubbles attack my tongue, and it takes everything I have to not gag. "It's wonderful," I agree, trying to smile at her.
"You drink it all up! Can't waste the champagne!" she says, then wanders away back into the crowd that's forming by the doors.
I can't move. But my hand is shaking the champagne glass too hard, and I don't want it to spill, so I force myself to finish it. I've never really had alcohol before, and it's already starting to make my heart pound and head spin.
That's one thing I can't do; I can't lose control. Not tonight.
"May I have this dance?"
The man's low voice cuts through the high chirps of the rest of the party guests; when I turn to look at him, I see that he's older, and maybe a little frail, but his eyes are still sharp. His black suit contrasts with the rest of the guests as well.
My head is spinning; I can't read him.
"Yes, of course," I say, and an Avox appears under my hand to take the glass away. He's not the one I apologized to. I don't even know if she's here, or what I would do if I saw her.
I hold my hand out, and the man leads me onto the dance floor; he's still strong, even though he looks frail and slightly stooped over. He's still taller than me.
"So, Astrid Clearwater. Congratulations on your victory," he says, starting to move me in circles around the room.
"Thank you." The circular spinning isn't helping my head at all.
"You're quite a novelty here in the Capitol, you know."
"I should hope so," I say, smiling at him. I don't like him. I don't trust him. But I don't trust anyone here, and my head is fogging over. He's spinning me in circles, towards the edge of the dance floor, and it's making me dizzy.
"May I cut in?"
Someone's hand grabs both mine and the man in black's, stopping us hard. My eyes aren't focusing, because of the spinning, so I see two hands, then finally just one. As soon as I can focus my eyes, I look at the person the hand is connected to. He's younger, with blue streaked hair and a black suit lined with blue stripes.
"Augustus, don't you have things to attend to?"
"Who do you think you are, barging into my business?" The man, Augustus, tries to pull his hand away from the young man's, but he doesn't let go.
"I know my father is going to be making a very important decision soon, and you might want to be on his right side, Mr. Thorneworth."
Mr. Thorneworth holds onto me for a moment more, then lets me go and storms away through the dancers. The young man gives me a quick bow.
"Aero Carter at your service."
"Thank you?" I say uncertainly. I can't think, I can't think, and I don't trust this Aero Carter any more than I did Augustus Thorneworth.
"He didn't want just a dance, so I cut in. Dance with me?" Aero asks, holding out his hand.
"Alright."
"I won't spin you, I promise."
"Alright."
Aero takes my hand and moves me into the crowd, away from the empty corner of the dance floor. "My father is a Capitol official, and Mr. Thorneworth is holding onto one last thread of minimal power."
"Do you think he'll keep it?" I ask, but I don't care. I don't know anyone in the Capitol.
"I doubt Father will listen to me, but I'll try my best to make sure he doesn't."
Aero's not spinning me, like he promised, but I'm still dizzy and my heart is beating too fast.
"The food's delicious, you know. Have you gotten to the tables yet?"
I shake my head. The glass fragments are starting to crack, and it's taking everything I have to try to keep the pieces together. If they shatter, I'm lost.
"I would never forgive myself if you missed it. The food's the one decent thing about the Capitol."
It's a trick; he's not honest. He's a Capitolite, he has to think the world about his city. He's lying to me, just like everyone else has.
I'm so dizzy.
"Why don't you take me over there then?" I get out, and Aero smiles.
"It would be my pleasure." We stop dancing, but he keeps a tight hold on my hand as he leads me through the crowd of dancers. That one glass of champagne must have been stronger than I thought, because it's made my head too foggy to care that Aero is holding my hand.
Or maybe it's the music and the people. I don't know. I can't keep my thoughts straight right now.
"Welcome to the best part of the President's party," Aero murmurs and gestures towards the rows and rows of tables filled with food. "This is why I actually take them up on the invite every year."
"What do you recommend?" I ask, trying to smile and act like my head's on straight. Because it is. I'm fine. I'm not weak.
"I've always found that the chicken with the orange sauce is better than the one with lemon sauce, but I'm partial to oranges."
"Choose for me then," I say.
"Don't move, I'll be right back," Aero says, then almost sprints off, leaving me to look at the plates and tables of food. More food than anyone in the districts will ever see.
I starved in District 3 so that the Capitol could eat themselves sick. My mother decided between food and the rent more often than she didn't, and these people in their stupid costumes never had to choose. They've never had to choose, and I hate them, I hate them.
"Some of my favorites. And I know what you're thinking; we're not all terrible here, I promise," Aero says as he hands me a plate filled with chicken, some sort of vegetable, and a yellow-colored rice. "Just most of us."
"So how do you tell the difference?" I ask, taking a fork from him as well.
"Usually, you can't. None of the dark suited people are decent, but the rest of them are hit and miss."
"You're wearing a dark suit," I point out.
"Mine has blue stripes in it, though," Aero says. "If you look at the colored and shallow people, they're mostly harmless. Most of them just have enough sense to put their clothes on in the morning."
Even though my head is foggy, and the room around me is starting to shimmer a little too much out of reality, I laugh. I still don't trust Aero. But I'll let him make me laugh.
"That's Cordia Caerellia," he points out, and I catch a glimpse of a woman in a dark yellow dress.
"I heard about her," I say, and I actually have. I remember my prep team mentioning her.
"They've finally let her scandal drop. The newest one is about another woman who trimmed her eyelashes back too far."
"How horrible for her," I say, and this time Aero laughs.
"How's the food?"
My head comes together enough for me to stab a piece of chicken with my fork and put it in my mouth. I don't care about the rest of the Capitol right now. Aero was right. The food is the best thing about the city that I've seen so far.
"Orange is the superior chicken," Aero says proudly. "You stay with me, and I'll get you all the best pieces off these tables. Just wait until you get into the cakes."
I glance over at the spinning mass of people on the dance floor, and the Avoxes in red who are attending to them. "It's insanity, but it's home," Aero continues, watching the dancers with me. "Have to love the colors."
"I love it here," I say, because I have to. I have to love it, because they love me, and I love their food too.
My head's starting to splinter, and none of my thoughts are easy to catch right now.
"Just stick with me, and you'll love it more," Aero says.
What does he mean? Why does he want me to stay with him?
I don't know. I don't trust anyone.
But the food is delicious.
Aero opens his mouth to say something else, but he doesn't get anything out. He stutters for a moment then finally says, "Listen, you have to say yes. It doesn't matter what they're going to ask you, you have to say yes, because it won't end well if you don't. Okay?"
"What? What are they going to ask me?"
"Miss Clearwater."
I stiffen when someone grips my shoulder from behind.
"She's with me," Aero says, straightening up taller.
"Doesn't matter." It's a man, a man with big hands that are squeezing my shoulder too tight.
Let go, let go-
"I doubt my father will be happy when I tell him."
"Your father doesn't matter," the man says. "Come with me, Miss Clearwater."
Aero looks alarmed, but he hides it just as soon as he shows it. "I'm sorry, Astrid. I'm sorry; I swear I-"
"Let's go, Miss Clearwater." There's two men, both in dark suits; one of them steers me by the shoulder, the other takes my plate from me.
I'm so dizzy and confused.
"Where am I going?" I get out, but neither of them answers me. I don't know what's going on, or what Aero was talking about. I don't know. I don't know.
But I'm not too dizzy to realize that they're taking me out of the room altogether, and my mind starts to snap into place as soon as they push me through a set of doors into a quiet and softly lit hallway, leaving the music and chaos behind.
I'll kill them. I'll kill them if I have to, because I don't know what they want. I shouldn't have come; I should have fought them like I did in the arena, because no victor ever lets themselves be taken away after the Games. It was supposed to end; everything was supposed to end.
The champagne briefly distracted me from the fire, and fogged my brain, but I'm gathering the pieces back together, and I can feel the flames around my feet.
"Where am I going?" I repeat, shaking the man's hand off of my shoulder. "And I can walk by myself."
"This way," the other one says, gesturing to a flight of stairs.
"Why did you take me away from the party?"
Still the victor, still the victor who wants her shiny things and the glory that came with her victory. I have to be her, I am her.
If I had a weapon, I could kill them both right now.
Neither of them answers me again, so the only sound I hear is the sound of our footsteps on marble stairs; nine stairs to a landing, then another twelve to the next level. I have to hold my skirt up with one hand so I don't trip and fall.
I can't lose control. I can't. But I don't know what's going on.
They lead me down one last hallway, then stop outside an elaborate door. "Right in here, Miss Clearwater."
"Why am I here?" I shouldn't be weak, I shouldn't be confused, but I don't know what's happening. I don't know what Aero was talking about, but it was so similar to what Mags and Silver said.
I don't understand.
The man on my right knocks once, then pushes the doors open; the other man shoves me forward into the room, almost making me trip over my skirt. The breeze from the door blows my hair forward, until I hear the door shut with a heavy thud behind me.
I don't understand.
I don't understand.
"Miss Clearwater. Come and take a seat."
My hands stop shaking; I'm frozen. I can't talk, I can't move. I can't, I can't.
I don't understand.
Finally, I open my mouth and manage to get the words out, but I still don't understand.
"President Snow."