I didn't expect to fall asleep. Thankfully I woke up early enough in the morning. The first thing I did was nearly jump out of my skin because the whole reason I woke up was Effie's voice outside my door.
"Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" I try and imagine, for a moment, what it must be like inside that woman's head. I have no idea but I can't help but wonder if it's torturing me. I know it's not what she's thinking because if I win the games she'll get promoted to a better job, maybe work with a better district at next years hunger games. That's probably what really goes through her mind now that I think about it.
I rose from my bed and at once I didn't feel good. My back was killing me, probably from straining to pick up that stupid drunk. All right, I wasn't mad at him but that didn't mean my back didn't hurt and that my eyes weren't dropping. What I needed was a shower and that's what I got.
After I finally moved myself out of the shower I had planned to put on the clothes from last night but I realized that they weren't exactly smelling nice, or looking that nice. Since I knew that I was going to be seen by the Capital people for the first time I decided against putting the clothes back on and instead I picked a purple shirt with green lace crossing it like netting. It was the best I could find, that and some black pants and heels. It took me a few minutes to get used to walking in heels but they were almost like the boots I wore to hunt in.
The only thing that I kept from home, District 12, was the mockingjay pin which I attached to the top part of the black pants I was wearing now. With my attire fixed I managed to get out of my room with out panicking. Okay, I was nervous about meeting the Capital people because I didn't know what to do so that they liked me. I'm sure that Peeta knew, because Peeta knew how to work someone for something. He didn't do it to me often because I got really upset the first time it happened.
I was walking through the one sided hallway very slowly because I was trying to gather up something that would help me but I was drawing a blank. The only person I'd met from the Capital is Effie Trinket and all I knew about her is that she likes to be on time, and where funky clothing. Well, I've got the funky clothing down, now I just needed to be more punctual.
I'm surprised that while I was walking I noticed a cart which had knifes on it, not for protection but for really just cutting into meat when you go to eat it. Just because it would make me feel better about walking into the Capital I take one of the knifes, not thinking much of it.
What was the first thing we had to do? I tried hard to remember. Oh, the opening ceremonies where we were showed off to the rest of the world. That starts tonight. The stylists would use the rest of the day between when we arrived and then to prepare us, and make us as beautiful as possible. Clearly it was for them to erase all the scars of play up on them so that it showed that we weren't treated like the shit that we were.
I shook my head just as I reached the dining car but I moved out of the way for Effie Trinket who was scowling over a cup of black coffee. I can tell that something has happened to her by the way that she is now muttering clear obscenities under her breath. I wonder for a moment if I should go after her and find out what happened but I see who had at one point been her dinner companions.
Peeta is sitting there with an embarrassed face, but I see an underlying hint of anger in the placement of his jaw as he looks at Haymitch who is sitting in front of him. Haymitch himself has a poofy face that he always has when he's got a hangover but he is chuckling even though I can tell that for some reason he isn't happy either.
I don't know if this scene should make me take Effie's example and scram but I just suck it up and walk farther into the room. I'm hesitant but my approach has grabbed Haymitch's attention. "Sit down, Sit down!" He urges, despite the fact that I he probably knows that I know that he isn't in the best of moods right now. He's trying anyways and I don't know why he's even trying to act like he's happy but maybe he is who knows. I sure as hell was not ready to deal with his mood changes.
The moment I slide into the chair that has my name written on it in a gold metal a large platter of food is sat down in front of me with a large thump. Eggs, ham, piles of fried potatoes. A tureen of fruit sits I ice t keep it chilled. The basket of rolls they set before me would keep my family going for a week. There's an elegant glass of orange juice. At least, I think its orange juice, because I've only tasted it once, at New Years. Haymitch had taken me out that day, complaining that I didn't 'enjoy' life enough. I think that really he didn't want to spend the day alone again. They sit down a cup of coffee as well, something my Mom loved back when we could afford it. A rich brown something is placed in front of me and for a moment I'm lost in a memory of different people, being a different person, and having different views on people.
But then Peeta is talking and I come back to this reality. "They call it hot chocolate," He tells me. "It's good."
I take a sip of the hot, sweet, creamy liquid and a shudder runs down my spine because it reminds me so much of things I want to forget because they won't do me any good here in the world of Panem.
Even though the rest of my meal calls to me, asking me to eat it, I wait until I've drained the sweet drink from the mug it's in. It's delicious and I relish it until the last drop is gone, which seems to amuse Haymitch to no end because he's making comments about having to eat my food for me. Once I've absorbed the rich, dark drink, and smacked Haymitch upside the head to get him to shut up I start in on the food.
I'm weary about the thicker things because I know that if I'm not careful I'll over do it and have a stomach ache. That had happened only once, when I'd first gotten to eat with Haymitch.
Again, I have to crawl away from a memory because I guess all of this has made me sentimental. I know though that longing for the days that I couldn't go back to is not what I need right now. Instead I look at the other two people at the table. Peeta is still eating, dunking bits of the good, nicely buttered, rolls into the hot chocolate. Haymitch however is knocking back a red liquid, that wasn't as sweet as the hot chocolate that he's thinning with spirits that he has in an alcohol tin from the pocket of the blue robe he's now dressed in.
For once I actually detest Haymitch or more his inability to stop drinking more than I hate the man himself. I know with what he's been through I really shouldn't hate him for trying to fight off the nightmares with alcohol. After all, aren't I about to go through the same thing if not a little worse? But I know it's been years since he's been in the arena and I'm tired of seeing him drown himself in alcohol instead of being a man and facing his memories.
Right then, I make a vow to myself. If I get through the hunger games I was going to face my memories and make myself come to terms with every bad thing that happens, not drown myself in that foul smelling liquor like Haymitch.
"So, before you're completely smashed." I deadpan and my unusual tone of voice has both Haymitch and Peeta looking my way. I'm not quick to anger, or when I am it's never at some one I know well. "You got any advice, since that's your job."
"Here's some advice. Stay Alive." Haymitch tells us, not making eye-contact with me but I'm angry anyways. I share a glance with Peeta and I can see the hardness there in his eyes because Haymitch is laughing now. It's just so…frustrating. I think, after only a second of real contemplation that Haymitch has already decided that I can't do it.
"That's very funny," Peeta says, his voice dripping in sarcasm. Before I can even think about doing something, Peeta lashes out at the glass in Haymitch's hand. It ends up shattering on the expensive carpet that looks to just have been scrubbed from Haymitch's vomit last night. The blood red liquid has defiantly ruined the floor but I'm more interested in the heat behind the glare they are both participating in. "Only not to us."
I don't know what caused all of this hate. Yeah what he said made me pissed and wanting to punch Haymitch as well, but Peeta has never, never, been quick to anger. It makes me wonder if I missed something obvious, and I felt like I should know what but I can't think of what it could have been.
Haymitch seems to not have even heard what he says because they are now both standing up and glaring as if the table wasn't there to stop them. I want to get up to, so that I can stop them from getting worse with each other but then Haymitch lays one hand on table to brace him as he balls up his fist and punches Peeta in the face with no regret. I want to gasp in surprise but Haymitch is reaching with the same hand back to get the spirits so I surprise us all when I slam the knife, I hadn't even remembered it, down between his fingers with the skill that I'd gathered through the years of taking care of my family and I.
Haymitch knows I hunt with blades and axes but I've never mentioned my ability to use a knife. Technically a knife is a blade but I didn't count it because it was built with different angles, for different purposes. He sits back down now and his eyes are on me intensely and I'm wondering again what I'm missing because he's looking between me and Peeta but then the moment is gone and I'm still clueless.
"Well, it looks like I got fighters this year." Haymitch is amused but it's a different kind of amusement, this time it's a calculated amusement. I help Peeta up and I move to get him some ice for the bruise that would surely come. With the amount of force that Haymitch has, that bruise could have easily been a broken face and it is this that makes me stop, not Haymitch's comment to let the bruise show. Why would Haymitch not put all of his force behind that punch unless it was for a reason.
Haymitch had been testing us. For a moment I'm even angrier but then I let that go. He had his reasons, and I suspect that he might have just done it to anger me, who knows. I'm so confused by this that I obey Haymitch and drop the ice back down and manage to drop myself back into my chair.
"-The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena." Haymitch is saying and I listen closer. Did that mean that the other tributes are also using this same train? It could be true since the Capital wanted to be able to see all of the reapings live.
I didn't think to ask because right now we were actually getting advice, and I needed to pay attention, no matter how mad I was at Haymitch. "That's against the rules," Peeta says. I just settle back in my seat.
"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better," Haymitch schemes. I know he's a good schemer. He's always shown it, sometimes in small things like getting what he wants, or in big things, like getting me away from that peacekeeper before I got whipped to death so long ago. If I remember correctly, and I know that I do, Haymitch also won his games, not by his strength, but by his wits.
That's how I'll have to play it. That's a hard realization. I'm strong, you have to be to hold up an axe much less throw it at animals fast enough to kill them, but I'm not going to be able to use that strength as much to my advantage. Its common knowledge that in certain districts some people are trained just so they can volunteer as tribute and come home as a victor. We, meaning the other districts, call them Career tributes and their favorite thing to train them in is physical strength. So my wits will have to help me. I may be strong but I'm not big enough to over power a career tribute.
"Can you hit anything with that knife besides the table?" Haymitch asks me and I'm glad that I caught the question because with the way Haymitch is looking at me, weary as if I'm going to explode on him, I wouldn't have had the patience to ask him to repeat it. I'm already feeling bad at snapping at Haymitch. I was right to think that it was time for him to give up alcohol but that didn't mean I had to take out my anger and frustration at the situation on him.
The axe and the blade, those two weapons were my passion. But I've always been good with a knife or a small blade, a dagger I think that's what Dad used to call them. I actually use them a lot because using a large two-sided axe, the one I use most, would ruin small animals so I use knifes and daggers to kill them to.
To show him that I am good, and just because I'm still a little mad at him on the inside, I wrench the large knife from the polished wood of the table. I can even imagine Effie yelling at us for dirtying up the room. I get a grip on the blade and throw it directly in the middle of an orange, which was once resting on the top of a group of similar fruits. Now the poor thing was squished to the wall of the train, and its juice was creeping down the wall.
Haymitch had turned to watch the blade with surprised respect and Peeta was just completely shocked. Peeta had never gotten me as mad as Haymitch, so he had no idea how I could throw things because when I do get mad I throw things. It's just so I can get my anger out and since Haymitch has seen me angry before he somewhat knows. He just thinks that it's limited to axes and empty liquor bottles.
"Stand over here both of you." Haymitch orders while pointing to an open enough spot. I do it without question, because isn't that what we want? To be mentored? It takes Peeta a moment because he still seems to not want to listen to Haymitch even though Peeta was the one who insisted that Haymitch help us. Haymitch starts circling us, once. Twice, three times. He pokes at our muscles and I have to withhold a blush when his finger lingers on the tight skin and bands of muscle on my abdomen.
"Well, you aren't entirely hopeless." Haymitch says and I sniff because that just makes me feel bad. I know that Haymitch is only saying it to make me even angrier. He's looking right at me and his eyes are practically dancing in amusement so it's a dead give away that he is only mocking me. I force myself to fight the urge to stick out my tongue because now really isn't the time for that.
"All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking and I'll stay sober until after the games." Haymitch decides. I can feel my eyebrows going to the top of my head because this is a surprise. Haymitch rarely ever gives up alcohol for more then an hour and that's only when I'm around. Sometimes not even then. True, I didn't blame him for it until now but it's still a shock that he's done it this way. I should just learn to be happy with him helping me instead of just deciding to give up on me like I thought he was going to do. "But you have to do exactly what I say."
It's not much of a deal but it's a deal that could save our life so I'm ready to agree but it's not me who agrees first, it's Peeta. "Fine." I go to answer to but Haymitch just continues talking, confusing me.
"In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist." Haymitch says, and I sigh. I really wasn't looking forward to being 'styled'. I don't want to have to wear the outrageous things that I know I'll be dressed up in. I just want my plain black hunting gear with my Dad's brown, old jacket.
"But-" Peeta starts to argue but Haymitch is quick to crack down on his resistance.
"No buts. Don't resist," Haymitch says and storms away, holding onto a new bottle of spirits and I roll my eyes. I'm ready to go after him, because I'm not done with his sorry ass but Peeta stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
"You don't have to…go after him. Why don't we wait here and talk out a strategy?" Peeta's hopeful but when my eyes connect with his I can see a desperateness that confuses me. Just what went down while I was dressing this morning? I can't think of it so instead I shake my arm lose from the grip he had there.
"I want answers, and if I don't do something he's going to drink himself into oblivion today despite what promise he made with you." I tell Peeta as I'm moving out of the car. I don't mean to be rude, with not staying but I just didn't want to be in the same car as him after what his father told me. I didn't want to think about it, I mean really didn't want to think about it. Now, when Peeta looks at me it seems more obvious than before. I can't give him that love in return, and I don't want to lead him to think I can now or in the future.
So instead of staying with my best friend, I'm moving along the cars until I'm at Haymitch's car. True, I was here last night but that doesn't mean that I paid any attention. Last night I'd been more focused on dropping Haymitch in bed and then going to my own room.
Now as I stepped in I could see that it was nothing special. It had all the same things as mine though I suspected that the clothes in there had to be for a male. Haymitch is there but he's staring out a window and the bottle of alcohol that I'd come to take away from him was lying untouched on the bed. I frown and move farther into the room, and the door closed automatically behind me. Haymitch barely even acknowledged that I came in and it has me frowning more because I don't like this brooding Haymitch any more than I do the callous one I'd seen in that car with Peeta.
"So, do you want to tell me anything…new?" I asked, staring at Haymitch. I'm uncomfortable standing by the door so I force myself to casually flop down on the bed, pushing the alcohol down on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. Haymitch turns to me now and I pause as I see the determination in his eyes. It's rare that he ever has a sober face, so I'm shocked.
Most of the time people couldn't even tell when Haymitch is drunk unless it's late in the day and he's ingested enough to kill any coalminer. So the few small drinks he may have actually gotten into himself before I woke up were not nearly enough to affect him. The sips had probably only been enough to let him get over a hangover this morning.
"Your little friend defiantly loves you." Haymitch tells me and he's just standing there but now there is a cup of white substance that can only be milk. He takes a sip and I have to smile at his reaction to his first drink without alcohol in it. But I sober up myself because I know that he's right. It was so clear in the way Peeta is. I don't know how I'd never seen it before because he made it so clear by how he didn't want me to go see Haymitch.
"I know." I say because there is nothing else I can say to him. I don't love Peeta like that, I know I don't. I know that Peeta is attractive to people but I don't see him that way because I actually know him. Haymitch though seems to think this is significant or he wouldn't have brought something like this up at least not after his own reaction to Peeta's father's confession. "What about it?" I ask him instead.
"He seems to think that my drinking has, and I quote, 'ruined her life. She can't even spend time to herself.'" Haymitch is quick to answer and his face is annoyed, his voice high-pitched in a mocking way. It doesn't sound anything like Peeta to say something like that and if it had been anyone else Haymitch had been making fun of I might have laughed but I'm not, simply because it's not funny.
"He's-" I attempt to disagree but Haymitch snorts.
"He's right, and I know it." Haymitch throws out harshly. I can see his fists tightening and his pants, which he has on under the dark blue robe, move as he starts toward the bed. I tense, but he doesn't seem too angry. He stops right in front of me so I stand so my neck doesn't have to bend back to meet his gaze.
"Haymitch-" I try again but he's determined to get out whatever it is that he's trying to say. I'm guessing that the remark that Peeta told Haymitch wasn't the only thing that Peeta accused Haymitch of doing because Haymitch would have just brushed it off.
"Do you think that I don't know that I'm ruining your life?" Haymitch asks me but it must be rhetorical because he continues to speak. "I know that you could be out getting more food for your families but I can't help it." Haymitch's angry face falters and my breath hitches when his face softens and he moves his hand as if to touch me but resists for some reason that I can't fathom.
"Haymitch, you know I wouldn't have taken on the job if I didn't want to do it." I try and talk but he's resilient and I only get that one sentence in before he's speaking again.
"I only asked you because I don't want to be alone." He reveals. "That was the only reason I got you away when we first met. I was so stuck up my own ass that I didn't even care that a little twelve year old, starved girl would be whipped to death. I was just so tired of sitting in that house provided by the Capital for killing." I'm stunned because rarely does Haymitch ever give up any personal emotions unless he's being sarcastic. I realize that we might get to know each other a lot more then before because now I'm fighting to come back alive and not in a body bag.
"But I don't blame you for that, Haymitch." I said and I didn't hesitate to put my hand on his chest, just above his heart. "You were hurting and so was I so we just gave something to each other." I smile, because I'm hoping that it'll make him feel better. It didn't help, at least I'm guessing because he's not happy.
"No, you would have just gone on hunting food for your family. If I hadn't got in the way you would have turned out fine. I don't know what would have happened to me if you didn't keep talking to me." Haymitch raised his hand this time and placed it on my hand that was lying on his chest right now. "I probably would have ended up insane." Haymitch sneered but I assumed that it wasn't at me.
"You're just exaggerating now Haymitch." I rolled my eyes because it was the only thing I could make my body do. The reaping was really stressing and it made my emotions out of control but I couldn't see this coming from Haymitch, this confession that he was doing.
"I think that these times call for desperate measures and that's what I am." Haymitch tells me. His hand tightens on my own and I jump when windows on the side of the train suddenly black out. Haymitch glances to but then he squeezes my hand to gain my attention.
"I'm going to get you through this, I promise." Haymitch whispers. "I want let you leave me because I'm a selfish, drunk bastard." He leads me to the windows right when they clear whatever was blacking them out and there, to my surprise are the Capital people, waiting for us.
"Starting now, I promise Katfir Everdeen that I will get you back to District 12 and back to your family." Haymitch promised me and I look from his blue eyes to the waiting people. They've caught sight of me so I weakly wave and to my surprise they go crazy and surround the stopped train just to wave back.
"Haymitch! Have you seen Katfir? It's time!" Effie Trinket's voice flooded through the door to us. I met eyes with Haymitch and I gulped.
KxHxKxHxKxHxK
R-i-i-i-p.
A woman named Venia was currently ripping pieces of fabric off of my legs, taking the hair there with it. I'd been led off the train and through the crowd only to be crowded into a building. I didn't get to talk to anyone else because we were split up. I was shown to my prep team which would help my stylist to get me dressed for every single outing I would do, including the ever important interview.
I had three members on my prep team. Venia, a woman with aqua hair and gold tattoos above her eyebrows. Octavia, a plump woman whose entire body had been dyed an ugly pea green. Flavius who has orange corkscrew locks and a fresh coat of purple lipstick on his mouth. Their wild looks were the current fashion of the Capital or so they'd jabbered on about. The colors on their skin contrasted greatly with my own tan, soft skin.
I try my best to grit my teeth as Venia rips another piece of fabric from my legs, taking another large patch of hair with it. "Sorry!" She pipes in her silly Capitol accent. "You're just so hairy!" I want to take offence to that but her accent throws me off.
Its so high pitched and I want to giggle at it. I don't have a lot to laugh at here, or in any situation that is bound to happen in the future but it doesn't mean I want to become a depressed person. No, I knew what that did to people. Still I don't giggle because that would be rude and plus the pain from my hair being ripped away wasn't funny at all.
"Good news though," She squeaks again, laying another of those fabrics on my left leg. "This is the last one, ready?" Venia asks and I get a good grip on the flat table I've been laying on before I nod. She rips it off and I refuse to scream as the last of my leg hair is uprooted in a last painful jerk of her arm.
I was told that the building I was in is called the Remake Center. I've been in here for at least five hours and I haven't even met my stylist. He told the stylists, who told me, that he doesn't want to see me until the other members of my prep team have gotten rid of some obviously unattractive features. To get rid of these problems my prep team has bathed me in water, to get rid of the dirt, a mucky pink solution, a purple solution, an orange solution, and a yellow liquid. They worked my nails into rounded perfect shapes and polished them to perfection.
My entire body, legs, arms, torso, underarms, parts of my eyebrows, and my unmentionables have been freed of any hair I had there. I felt naked on the table without the familiar hair on my body. The only place left that I had hair was on my head and my eyebrows. It was odd to be without it and I was sore and tingling from the ways of removal. I've kept quite though, and not said a word against what they were doing, just like Haymitch advised me to.
"You're doing very well," Flavius said, smiling cautiously down at me. "It there's one thing we can't stand its got to be a whiner! Grease her down!" I'm scared, what could they possibly grease me down with now? The other two of the team start rubbing me down with a lotion and at first it burns but then it sooths the aches and sore spots that were left over from all the alterations done on my body. To rub me down they take off the thin robe that's been covering me off and on through out the process. At first I had been nervous, and shy with being naked in front of the others but I got over it as soon as they'd started removing my hair.
I'm forced off of the table and instead stood in front of the three, completely nude in front of these strangers. They circle me, wielding a pair of tweezers each so they can remove whatever hair that has braved the treatments. I know I should still be embarrassed at being naked in front of strangers but these Capital people don't seem like people, with their weird hair and fashion senses.
After they've finished up they stand back to look at me and I smile, hesitant. "Excellent!" Flavius says. "You almost look like a human being." They all laugh and I just know that my face has turned scarlet but I know that I can't offend these people because I need them to make me look beautiful so that I can attract sponsors in the games.
"Thank you," I sweeten my voice, which I've rarely had occasion to do. "I've never had a chance to look beautiful in District 12." I admit. It's the truth and like I'd hoped the admission wins over the three.
"Of course you don't, you poor darling!" Octavia blubbers and clasps her hands together as if she was truly distressed that I didn't get to look pretty.
"But don't worry," Venia assures me. "By the time Cinna is through with you, you're going to be absolutely gorgeous!" She gushes.
"We promise! You know, now that we've gotten rid of all of the hair and filth, you're not horrible at all!" says Flavius and I go scarlet again because I'm still naked and he is a man. I like the compliment though so I smile at him in thanks. I don't get complimented like that by really anyone so it feels nice. Though, I know he's only saying that to make me feel better about myself. It was still a compliment so I'll take it. I have a feeling that I'm going to need all of the compliments that I can take. "Let's call Cinna!"
Cinna, is my stylist that I have yet to meet. The team dart out of the room to go get Cinna and I'm left standing in a cold, white room by myself. I have to force myself not to reach for the robe because my designer will just make me take it back off. Instead I let my hands travel to my hair which is down in a braid. After the team had spun some kind of mixture through it to make it silky and curly they'd allowed me to braid it back so that it would be out of the way. It was the one part of my body that the prep team had been told to really leave alone. I was grateful because I didn't want the bright orange hair that Octavia had in passing said would look good with my skin tone.
I stroke the silky strands of my hair gently. The black locks were something that I was extremely proud of. I've loved my hair ever since I was old enough to understand that it was called hair. I don't know why, maybe it was the color, maybe it was the texture, but I fell in love with my own hair.
I was startled out of my own musings when the door that the three Capital people had exited was opened. A young man, who couldn't be much older then me walked in. I was shocked because unlike the prep team, and every other Capital person I had seen so far, he actually seemed normal. Most of the stylists on screen that I'd seen were so dyed, stenciled, and surgically altered they were ugly, grotesque people.
But Cinna's close-cropped hair was a natural brown shade and he wore simple black clothes. The only thing that suggested he was from the Capital at all was the golden glittery eye make-up that he had applied with a light hand just at the ridge of his eye. I thought that all together it looked rather nice, especially compared to the fashions I'd been expecting Cinna to be wearing.
"Hello, Katfir. I'm Cinna, your stylist." He tells me this but I already know but I'm shocked again by the quiet, normal pitched voice. It was nothing like the Capital's accents but smoother, like I'd heard the District 10 tributes speak with.
"Hello," I greet him quietly. I'm cautious that he might turn into a disastrourus designer and put me in something I didn't like. I remember all the horrible mine themed costumes from years before and I want to run screaming back to the safety of District 12. I know that I'll just have to grit my teeth but I hope that I won't end up naked like the year before me where the designer sent them out with nothing but mining hats and black coal covering their bodies.
"Just give me a moment all right?" He asks and I nod because I really couldn't deny him could I? He walks around my naked body, surveying it and I'm embarrassed now because he seems much more normal then the others. He doesn't touch me, which I'm thankful for, but he takes every inch of me into his brain through his eyes and I'm unnerved by the observance he displays. I have to tighten my fists so that my arms won't rise to shield myself from his eyes.
Finally he stops circling me, rather quickly, to my immense thanks. "You have beautiful hair." He says, and I'm flushing again but this time in pleasure. I'm glad he likes it, because maybe he'll leave it like it is. "Who braided it?" He asks me.
"I did." I tug it over my shoulder. Cinna smiles and I tentatively smile back.
"It's beautiful. Classic really. And in almost perfect balance with your profile. You have talented fingers." I tighten my hands at his words. I can only hope that the talent in my fingers leads to something more helpful then braiding hair.
I hadn't expected someone so down to earth. I'd thought the stylist would be flamboyant or older and trying desperately to look young. Maybe I thought they'd look at me like a piece of meat to buy but Cinna has fulfilled none of these expectations.
"You're new, aren't you?" I guessed. "I don't think I've seen you before." I mutter to soften y voice because it was harsh to ask so bluntly. Most of the stylist are familiar, constants in a sea of new tributes.
"Yes, this is my first year in the Games." Cinna tells me.
"Why District 12?" I ask him without thinking. I don't want to offend him, but I'm curious. Cinna's mouth lifted in an amused smile.
"I asked for District 12." He answers but doesn't elaborate. "Why don't you go ahead and put that robe back on and we'll chat some more." He offers. I'm thankful for this because it was getting colder and colder in this room. I grabbed up the leaf thin cloth and drape the short thing around me. I followed him as he lead me through the door and into a sitting room. The room had two red couches facing off over a low table. Three of the walls were bare but the third wall was entirely made up of a window. I could see by the light that it must be around noon, although the sunny sky has become overcast.
Cinna gestures for me to take one of the couches, and then takes the other one for himself. He doesn't speak at first, instead he pushes a small button on the side of the clear table top. The top split into almost immediately and from below another tabletop rose but it holds our lunch.
Chicken and chunks of oranges cooked in a creamy sauce laid on a bed of pearly white grain, tiny green peas and onions, rolls shaped like flowers, and for dessert, a pudding the color of honey. At first I'm in awe at the display of foods that I would have killed to bring back to my family. That sobers me because I have to remind myself that I shouldn't think of my family so much here because it won't elp me get back to them. Instead I filter my emotions into hating the Capital.
I'd never have been able to get any of this about District 12 but I just can't think beyond the disgust. There was no way that both Cinna and I could manage to eat all of this food, so where did the rest go? Did they throw it all away when we at the districts could feed many families on just this amount of food on the table?
I look up from the food and I see that Cinna's eyes are trained on me and not the food. "How despicable we must seem to you." He comments and again I'm struck with how observant the man in front of me is. Have I shown it on my face? Or did he just guess that I was disgusted about this way of life?
"No matter," he sighed. "So, Katfir, about your costume for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Portia, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Peeta. And our current thought is to dress you in complementary costumes." He explained to me. I was on edge at once. I didn't want to be put in some disgusting outfit for the enjoyment of the Capital but it was inevitable. "As you know, it's customary to reflect the flavor of the district." I winced.
I'm going to be naked in front of millions of people.
"I won't be naked will I?" I blurted. Cinna looked shocked for a moment before he laughed heartily. I couldn't help but giggle nervously with him because I'm already tired of the tension around me. I was so tired of being mad and angry at being a tribute and I have to worry that. Instead of feeling like that, these Capital people don't even think that putting up children to kill each other for the enjoyment of other people.
"No, no you aren't going to be naked." Cinna said when both of our laughter quited. "You see, Portia and I think that coal miner thing is very overdone. No one will remember you in that, because every body has done that in the past. And we both see it as our job to make the District 12 tributes unforgettable." I nodded, comforted that I wouldn't be naked and covered in black dust.
"So? Lay it on me, what am I going to be wearing?" I asked, motioning with my hand for him to tell me.
"Rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we're going to focus on the coal. And what do we do with coal? We burn it?" Cinna said. I blinked, and I couldn't quite take in what he was asking me to do.
"Excuse me?" I asked, again blunt.
"You're not afraid of fire, are you Katfir?"
Sorry it took so long guys. I'm pushing it out as I go so yeah. I don't know what I'm doing really but I'm hoping it's good. I know Haymitch wasn't in the last few pages but I thought you guys would like that separate promise that Haymitch made to Katfir. I remember I got a review that gave me that idea, so thank you for that. I, also, just noticed the play on Katfir's name you know KatFIR it sounds like Cat Fire doesn't it. So Cat Fir and The girl who was on fire….I don't know if you catch it but I did.
Okay, question per update!
Who do you think is hotter, Robert Downey Jr, or Johnny Depp?