Pawn Chapter 3, a hunger games fanfic

Pawn

As previously stated, I do not own the Hunger Games.

Chapter 3

Four hours later after having the blemishes and flaws scrubbed out and being stuffed in a tight bodice, I live up to Capitol's beauty standards. Graham is late and I am annoyed. I stand in the middle of the room as my prep team and stylists fuss with my dress and my hair. The hem is a little to long. The shoes that my mother had planned for me to wear, the heel broke. It was one drama after the other and I was ready to be done with it!

Remy spays another layer of hair spray over my hairdo to make sure it would stay. I'm sure if I was in the Arena and being chased it by a nest of trackerjackers, nothing would move. The fumes make me cough. This is then followed by some sort of glitter spray to make me shine.

Finally, after much fussing, they stand back admiring their handy-work.

"There," Regan says, "You're ready!" She ushers me to a full-length mirror. I don't recognize the young woman in the mirror. I am less concerned about my appearance and more about Graham. "Where is he?"

"He'll be here," Regan reassures me. "Do you like it?"

The dress is one of Regan's designs. It is a strapless red dress with a tight bodice. A simple beaded design on the front. The layered skirt hung close to my body. They had decided to allow my hair to be loose waves down my back. A few pieces were pinned back in a rhinestone barrette that matches the complex rhinestone necklace and dangling earrings. White elbow gloves complement my dress. My make up is simple yet effective. "Less is more," Regan had said. A spritz of perfume and I am ready to take on the Capitol.

"You'll certainly turn some heads in that dress." She crosses her arms in front of her. The glue that holds my gloves in place itches.

"Graham still isn't here." I want to murder him. The one time he has a chance to impress my family, he manages to screw it up. "I specifically told him to come at five in case he needed style help because you know how my mother is about appearances."

Regan ushers me out of my room to meet the rest of my family in the living room. As I descend the staircase, Graham waits for me at the bottom. He wears a black tux and red bow tie. "Hey there, gorgeous."

"You're late."

"I was waiting here the entire time. Just ask your grandmother."

I freeze. "How did that go?"

"I like them. They weren't what I was expecting. I have something for you." He says. He takes my hand and leads me the rest of the way down. "Close your eyes and hold out your right hand, palm down."

I frown. "But then whatever you put in my hand will fall onto the ground."

He chuckles, "Just close your eyes will you, and no peeking!"

Packaging rustles and there is whispering. I don't like surprises. Something slips over my hand and rests daintily on my wrist. "If you want to really know, I was a few minutes late because I was picking up this."

"I guess I can forgive you for that. Can I open my eyes now?"

He takes my hands and squeezes them. "Okay, open them."

On my wrist rests a corsage of red two red roses intertwined with a spray of tiny white flowers. "It's beautiful," I gasp.

"It was your grandmother's idea," Graham said. "Apparently it used to be a tradition back in the Old Times."

Sometimes I think my father's side has been born in the wrong time period.

"Way before the Dark War started, years and years ago when a young lady went out to a fancy party, the young lady would receive a corsage from her date. She would give him a boutonnière." She pulls a smaller box behind her. Inside the plastic casing is a single red rose with a spray of small white flowers. "You pin it on his lapel."

She unpins the flower from the box and hands it to me. The pin is long and sharp, like a trackerjacker stinger. "I'm afraid I'll stab him."

"Please don't stab me with that," Graham asks.

My grandmother, the 14th Hunger Games victor came and gave me a big hug. She is wearing a peach colored dress and hat. "You look so beautiful. I wish your father were here to see you."

"He'll be meeting us there, right?" I asked.

"I'm afraid not. They've sent him out of town, investigating some rebel activity."

It figures. "This always happens. It's not fair. Maybe I should write a letter to President Snow."

My grandmother takes both things with me and expertly pins it on Graham's coat. "See, that was easy." Sometimes I wish my grandmother was really my mother. "Sometimes being apart of the government isn't fair. Even though you aren't a little girl any more, you should have a right to see your father."

"Maybe I will ask President Snow tonight if I see him."

"That's a really bad idea," Graham cut in.

This is time my mother comes sweeping down the stairs with her stylist, prep team and assistant close behind her. "We're going to be late." As she spoke, lights pulled into our driveway. "That's the limo."

Graham helps me into my coat. I took Graham's arm and the four of us walked out into the balmy night. A portly man opened the door to the back of the limo and helped us slide into the spacious backseat. We ride in silence. My grandmother did not like my mother, and the feeling was mutual.

"It was not necessary for you to come to this party," My mother says to my grandmother.

"It was no trouble," she replied, "As a former victor it is my duty. I can still teach these Gamemakers a thing or two. And I know that Hugo would have wanted to be here."

Graham and I exchange uncomfortable glances. Finally, the short ride ends. We only live a few miles from Crane, but to not arrive in style would be considered a faux pas. If you have it, you flaunt it here. The Capitol and rest of the districts are encouraged to celebrate the Games. I think back to Primrose and Katniss Everdeen. Neither of them is celebrating tonight.

I am the only child of Hugo and Vivian Hyde. I imagine what it is like to have a sibling and then have them ripped away from you by the government. I try to think how Graham felt and how Primrose Everdeen is feeling, and it scares me that I have no idea. I can't imagine having that much love for someone. Obviously, at the age of twenty, I am too old to participate in the Games.

The car stops and we get out. There is a steady stream of people going into Seneca Crane's mansion. They are decked out in the Capitol's latest fashions. Lime green sequins seem to be in this season.

Grandmother senses my uneasiness because I am not decked in sequins or wearing wild makeup. She takes my arm. "Your dress is a classic."

A man greets and embraces my mother warmly. He is wearing a well-fitted suit with a red shirt underneath his jacket. The edges of his beard were sculpted so they looked like flames of fire. He greets my grandmother next. "Jettie, it is a pleasure as usual."

"Thank you, it's a shame that Hugo can't be here. Your house looks lovely."

"Well, the Capitol's safety comes first. Can I get you a glass of wine?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you Seneca."

He moves to me, taking my gloved hand and kiss it. "What a beautiful corsage!"

"Thank you," I say. He shakes Graham's hand.

"Would you like some wine as well?"

I hesitate. My mother is nowhere to be seen. "That would be lovely," I say.

Seneca Crane leaves and Graham and I are standing awkwardly in the middle of the foyer. High profile celebrities are mingling in the foyer. A few moments later Crane comes back with two goblets of wine. "I must attend to my arriving guests, but please, make yourselves comfortable. There is tons of food."

We thank him and he disappears within the crowd. I take a sip of the wine. It is sweet and tangy. "I wonder where this was made."

"District 11," Graham said. "That district is agriculture. They also make beer and wine from the fruit and wheat. They're famous for their fruit brandies and ciders. I wouldn't be surprised if more than half of the booze here is from District 11. Do you want something from the buffet?"

"No," I say. "You can go. I'll go later. I can hardly breathe in this dress; I doubt I will be able to eat."

He kisses my forehead and then disappears from site. I look around, there are a few people that I recognize. Plutarch Heavensbee even though it is still early in the evening, seems to already have had a few. "Carmen," he says warmly, putting his hand on my shoulder. "You've grown so much since last year. You look so lovely. This style is a classic look, truly."

"Thank you."

"That young man you came with, are you two an item?"

I blush. "We're good friends." This seems like a good, safe answer. When a relationship becomes public in the Capitol, it becomes complicated. I don't like complicated. My life is already complicated because of who my mother is. My mother is the Capitol's doll, not just because of who my father is. She's been in Capitol's society before her post as Gamemaker. One shouldn't fear their own family, but I fear my mother because I know what she can do. She can kill children without blinking an eye, I don't know what games she can play with me. In the Capitol, the philosophy is trust no one.

"Would you like to dance?" The portly man said. Somewhere, someone has started a waltz. I set my drink on a nearby table. Plutarch begins to talk about what a pleasure it has been to work with my mother. "She's very brilliant, you know." I suppress a sigh and wonder how long this dance will last.

A hand taps Plutarch on his shoulder. I hope its Graham. "Excuse me; I'd like to cut in."

Plutarch is surprised. "Of course."

"Sorry, sorry," The mysterious man mumbles. "These crowds… I never know what to do with them. It's so awkward you know?"

Plutarch squeezes my shoulder and leaves me after he catches sight of a blond in a scanty yellow dress with a large matching bow in her hair. I look around for Graham, but I don't see him. The crowd has swelled quite a bit. Peacekeepers wearing earpieces seem line the room's perimeter. I pray that Graham hasn't done anything dumb.

He clears his throat and he puts his arm around my waist. "Plus… half of these people you can't even stand. It amazes me why people waste their time playing nicey-nicey with people they're only going to backstab later." His face is painted a garish white with black circles around his eyes. Jagged scars protrude from both sides of his mouth. He licks his lips. "Capitol social circles are… kind of like the Hunger Games… either you go with the nicey-nicey or you're someone's snacky-snacky."

"Sorry to be rude, but have we met?"

My dance partner lets out a maniacal laugh. "No, I don't suppose we have. Though technically you should."

"I meet a lot of people, so it's possible we've met and I don't remember. I'm Carmen Hyde," I say.

"Everyone knows who you are, sweetheart." He licks his lips, but seems to have trouble swallowing. "Though…it seems they forget who the victors as soon as the Games are over. It only comes back in to focus…when there's new blood to spill."

"Weren't you involved with the Games at some point?"

He lets out another maniacal laugh. "Very good. Though… if you want to survive in this crowd… you'll have to be… a little bit faster."

"I'm seeing someone."

"We're just friends," he mimics my answer to Plutarch. It makes my skin crawl. "I have a hard time believing… that the Vivian Hyde's daughter brought 'just a friend' to an important party like this unless she had an agenda."

"I'm not like my mother." I try to pull away from him.

He holds fast. "I didn't imply that you were… just… you seem to have something to prove… Pick me… I can help you."

"I have nothing to prove," I say.

"Of course you do… Otherwise why would you have brought him?" He nods to Graham who has eyes glued on us. He licks his lips. "You want nothing more to prove that your nothing like them…Well… this was fun. I should let you get back to your date." He leads me back to Graham.

Graham's eyes widen in surprise as Dimitri escorts me to where he stands. "Thank you… for a lovely dance." He flicks his wrist and a small card appears. "My card." I take it, he turns slowly and then disappeared into the crowd.

"What was that?" Graham asked.

"I wonder how he got those scars, and why the Capitol didn't fix them after the Games?"

"What?"

I take Graham's wine and drain the rest of the glass.

"Hey, easy there. You're going to be sick later."

There seems to be even more people here than before. More people are dancing and their laughter seems deafening. I look at the card in my hand. There is the gold Seal of Pandem followed his name in bold letters:

Dimitri Kral

66th Hunger Games Victor

GAMEMAKER

A/n: Happy New Year! I hope you enjoyed it. Also, thank you to all of you who have reviewed. I hope more people will. I don't bite, unless you're into that sort of thing. ;)