Leah Rockwell, 18 years old
One Week after the Games
Today is going to be a great day.
Hermes is finally arriving back home to District Two. Which means that he'll be moving into the Victor's Village, and he'll be taking me along with him. Well, he never actually said he would, but I mean, come on! It's pretty obvious he will. We're the perfect couple. We're supposed to live together.
I'm standing on the platform at the train station, surrounded by all these other nobodies who are only here because they want to get a piece of the action that comes with being associated with a Victor. Seriously, I've never seen half these people before in my life! Like that kid over there wearing the yellow raincoat and the black beanie. He's jumping up and down with a big cheesy grin, like he actually cares about Hermes. Honestly, who does that kid think he is…?
...Oh wait, I think that's his brother. Never mind.
...But my point still stands for the others! They're all just a bunch of attention whores, looking for any scrap of recognition. Sad.
But whatever. They're not important to me, so I push them out of my mind and instead focus on what's coming.
I'm really excited. I'd gone shopping yesterday and decided to splurge on some new clothes, in celebration of Hermes' victory. I'm wearing those new clothes right now: a cute white lace dress, sheer stockings, white strappy shoes so shiny I can see my reflection in them.
I also bought new perfume. It smells just like a bouquet of freshly picked magnolias.
Hermes will love it. He has to, anyway.
I can hear rumbling in the distance. The train is approaching. The noise stirs new life in the crowd and they all grow quieter, craning their necks out to get a glimpse of the train as it rolls steadily towards us.
It doesn't take long for the train to pull up alongside the platform. All the paparazzis in the crowd ready their cameras. I discreetly check my reflection in the train's shiny grey surface, making sure my hair is perfect. I don't want to be photographed having a bad hair day.
The door of the train slides open and out steps Hermes, dressed in a creaseless and well-fitted navy blue suit. Right on his heels is the escort, an annoying woman with yellow hair. Not blonde, yellow. And bringing up the rear is Ludo Martin, our second ever Victor, who is obviously proud to have mentored the winning tribute.
Hermes barely gets the chance to even so much as look in his family's direction before I'm upon him. I smile at him, and he smiles back. Now that I'm up close I can see that he has bags under his eyes. Gross. No one likes a zombie. But oh well, I'll just have to take what I can get.
"Enjoy your trip to the Capitol?" I ask sweetly, fluttering my eyelashes just so.
"I sure did," he replies, but now his smile feels hollow, for some reason. It was only for a second, however, and then he's back to normal. "Did you miss me?"
"Horribly so," I say before pressing my lips against his in a deep kiss that makes the paparazzis sigh. I hear the millions of little clicks of their camera shutters, and I smile.
When we break apart, Hermes sniffs. "New perfume?"
"Aw, I'm so glad you noticed!" I play with a lock of my hair. "I bought it just for you. Do you like it?"
"Of course I do." And there's that hollow smile again! Seriously, is he even trying to be happy for the cameras? I feel like I'm the only one doing any work.
It'll all be worth it, I tell myself. You'll be sitting in the lap of luxury before too long. You would have earned it. Be patient.