SO SORRY ABOUT THE LATE UPDATE! I've been busy with band (marching/advanced band) lately but now it's almost summer vacation!
"Katniss, please, come out." Effie knocked urgently on the teak door for about the fortieth time. And for the fortieth time, I ignored her and kept the whole kitchen of the Remake Center to myself.
There was some muffled sounds, which I heard only distinctively. Then a gentle, deep, familar voice spoke, which roused me out of my grief. "Girl on Fire, I'd like to speak with you."
Cinna! I slowly scooted my chair backwards to get up from the table and walked quietly to the door. I pressed my left cheek against the very fresh, smooth wood. "Cinna?" I whispered.
I don't know how Cinna heard me through the thick barrier between us, but he responded firmly, "You better believe it. Now, Katniss, a word please?"
A pair of high heels clunked away. It was probably Effie, irritated with me for at least the fiftieth time within barely a day. Just because I would talk to Cinna but not with her. I took in a shaky breath and pressed the button where a door knob should have been. In the split second the sliding door took to do its job, my beloved stylist and I faced each other. I threw myself in his arms. "Cinna," I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut against his chest.
He stroked my hair and broke our hug. Our eyes locked. Cinna's dazzling green eyes were as observant, enchanting, and beautiful as ever. His eyes moved over slightly to the right. I glanced downwards, my cheeks feeling a tinge of pink as I knew what words were going to come out of his mouth.
"I believe your prep team specifically advised you to not touch your hair." He raised his eyebrow at my cut hair, just below my shoulders. At the sight of my expression, his face surprisingly broke into a grin. "You knew what I was going to say, didn't you, Katniss?"
I felt the ends of my lips go upwards a little, despite my mood. "Well, what happened to your eyeliner?" I countered. It wasn't his usual gold; this time, it was sort of on the sunset-color shade.
"Seneca Crane thought the gold was outdated." He rolled his eyes. "Threatened execution."
"My gosh," I gasped. Now the Capitol was even cruel to their most favorite show's stylists!
Cinna made a small shrug as if it didn't matter to him in the least but I could definitely see a trace of anger. His eyeliner was his personal trademark.
"Well. Now that we're all finished with the meet and greet..." Cinna smiled. "Let's get you fitted in your outfit." He reached over and brought out an outfit for me to wear to the Tribute Parade. He seemed pleased with his creation but bored. I felt for him. Since I had won my Games, Cinna would be my stylist as long as I was a mentor, I died, or he died. He loved - no, had a passion - to design incredible costumes and things like that, but now he was very limited since I wasn't the latest star of the Capitol anymore. The only time Cinna had a outlet for his overflowing artistry was during my yearly visit to the Capitol for the Hunger Games and when I was invited to a bizarre Capitol party and was hinted a requirement to attend. Otherwise, he had nothing to do except to occasionally pry a couple of Gamemakers to help him get a new job.
Unsuccessfully, of course.
"So what's Portia been up to?" I asked as I stripped off my stupid outfit from the train.
Portia had a different life than Cinna. After my Games, Portia was promoted to be the stylist of the boy tribute of District 7, which, according some Gamemakers with big mouths, was a much better district than 12. A new set of stylists were assigned to the District 12 tributes in the 75th Hunger Games and fired right before the 82nd. Another twosome was hired for the 82nd and fired after the 93rd. So this year, I was going to meet the new couple of stylists for my district. I had incredibly low hopes. Our past stylists were really low-educated in their department.
It took me a second to realize that Cinna hadn't replied yet. "Cinna?" I prodded meekly, knowing that the answer wouldn't be too good.
"Portia... Portia was fired." His voice cracked as he said, "They might execute her."
My mouth dropped open. Portia was a definite innocent person, Capitol citizen or not. "For what?!"
"No one knows for sure. It's strictly between her, some of the more important Gamemakers, and President Snow only. That's it."
"Well, there must be some rumors, Cinna. Tell me one." I couldn't stand the thought of Portia being executed without me having a clue to why.
He shook his head sadly, greatly disappointing me. I knew that his shake wasn't because he didn't want me to know, but because there really weren't any logical rumors. They were all probably stupid, from my point of view of the Capitol.
I quickly slipped on the outfit: a baggy black top with orange and red sparkly sequins on it, a padded cami that was the exact same color as my olive skin so that you could hardly see it, black tights that faintly glowed a bright orange, and simple store-bought cozy black boots. A flaming black witch-like hat topped off my outfit. I bit my lower lip guiltily. These clothes were really astonishing but Cinna was definitely overqualified to be my stylist.
"This looks really nice on me, Cinna. Thanks."
Cinna smiled. "No problem. And you don't look nice at all, Katniss. You look like the legendary Girl on Fire." He tugged on my arm, pulling me out of the room. "I have a small surprise for you." He didn't bother to tell me to close my eyes; he just lead me over to the room down the hall and second door to the left.
"Hey, sugar," Finnick droned. He was leaning against the wall next to the door, making sure he was the first person I saw. When I walked in, he took a step towards me, putting a hand on my waist and the other on the back of my head, as if we were lovers and he was about to kiss me. I tried to pull away, but that damn guy's grip was too strong. "How's it going?" He leaned his forehead against mine, teasing me.
"Finnick!" I protested, not seeing much of the humor in this. "Let go!"
"Hmm. I might have to think about that." He pulled me even closer, if possible. Now I couldn't even try to wriggle out of his clench.
"Stop!" I whined.
There was small laughter from behind me. I recognized them as some other past victors' voices.
My arms were trapped on Finnick's chest, which made me even more uncomfortable. "You guys, help me!" I said to whoever was witnissing this. An odd sound escaped from Cinna, probably a muffled laugh.
No one came to my aid. "No one's coming to your aid, sugar," Finnick said, reading my mind, moving one of his fingers on my waist to stroke my back.
"Ugh, Finnick, I'm warning you, let go." I hadn't completely bruised him up because I didn't have the energy, but now I was working a great load of it up.
"Are you sure, my dear? I - hey, sweetie, cut it out - I'm sure - oof!" Finnick stumbled backwards at my final punch near his abdomen.
"I told you to cut it out," I growled, massaging my arms.
Finnick glanced at Cinna warily, then looked back at me with a sort of mocking expression.
I ignored him. "Johanna. Hi," I mumbled as she tightened an arm around my neck from the side. "Hey, Cecelia. Nice to see you again," I said, waving to her. She was all the way across the room but still made her way to me. I felt very liked as she embraced me in a somewhat grandmotherly way. "How are your kids?"
She rolled her eyes. "All grown up. They hardly ever visit anymore." I hadn't seen Cecelia in a few years because of her unability to be a mentor due to back pain.
That reminded me. "And your back?" I said, eyeing it.
"Much better. Not completely healed but a lot more pleasant than last time."
"Great," I said, smiling. "And you, Wiress? How are you?"
"Okay," Wiress replied. No other word came out. Alright, no problem.
"What about Beetee?" I pressed.
"Dead."
"Oh," I said softly. There were a lot of changes this year.
I glanced at Finnick and walked over to him. I held out my hand in a handshake form. "Let's start over. How are you, Finnick?" I said with an obvious sneer in my tone.
"I've been better," he replied, not covering up sourness.
I looked around. "Where's Annie?" I asked. "Is she mentoring this year?" She had co-mentored four out of the ten past years, making every year unpredictable.
Finnick looked down at the carpet. There was awkard silence all around.
After a minute, Cecelia said very quietly, "She commited suicide less than two weeks ago. Her flashbacks had come back and got so much worse that sometimes she was out for a couple of days. It was really terrible."
"It wasn't on the news?" I said, my mouth dry.
"Oh, it was, definitely. I can't believe you didn't hear." Huh. No wonder Finnick was acting strange.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to Finnick after a moment. My mental list of people who had died and people in danger of dying was growing out of control. This year wasn't good for us mentors at all. "I'm sorry too, Wiress," I said, my voice louder but a little hoarse. No one had anything to say so I made a quiet "hmmmmm" sound that only I could hear, for my own sake.
"Well, everyone," Cinna spoke up suddenly. I looked at him, relieved, sure that Cinna would know what to say. He cleared his throat. "Katniss and I need some time alone, if that's alright with all of you." Everybody's head bobbed up and down like those retarded dolls that were currently all the rage here in the Capitol. "Take care, okay? Especially you, Finnick... Wiress... um, we'll see you guys at the parade." Cinna placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me back to our room, keeping me dumbfounded.
That was probably one of the plainest things Cinna had ever said in this type of situation. Instead of leaving us all in lighter moods, he hadn't done much of anything. Sure, it was a better speech than anything I could have come up with but still... what had happened to Cinna?
"Katniss, I hope that reunion with your fellow victors was a pleasant time," he mumbled. He looked at me up and down. "Since you're all ready, why don't you... oh, I completely forgot." He took out two things from his back pocket: a pair of clip-on earrings shaped as - what else? - flames, and a mockingjay pin.
"The pin?" I said suspiciously. This couldn't be possible. My pin was still at home. "This is just a copy, right?"
"Of course, Girl on Fire." Cinna reached for my hand, placed both items in it, and closed my fingers around them. "I'll see you at the Tribute Parade." He hugged me delicately.
Depressed, I sighed inwardly.
This was not my usual Cinna; there was definitely something wrong.
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