Chapter 3: Getting Personal
Cressida thought about her conversation with the twins over the next several weeks. She had began to see how silly the other girls were, caring more about fashion and parties than on any sort of career. Cressida enjoyed tinkering with electronics and talking about life in general with the twins in their 'room of secrets.' Of course, they all played the occasional prank, but they hadn't been caught so far.
"DANG IT!" Cressida groaned. She spotted her mid-semester progress report on the dining room table. Tom had written an encouraging note on a sticky-note on top of it and had reminded Cressida to get it signed before she left for school. She had meant to do it before her parents went out the door the previous evening, but had been into her artwork and hence forgot.
She grabbed the paper and headed upstairs. She was glad she had woken up somewhat early. Tom had to leave early for school to do some cleaning for community service hours as part of his civil training. Opening the french doors to her parents' bedroom slowly, she sighed with relief. They appeared to be asleep instead of groaning in the throes of a hangover. Cressida noticed that her father had fallen asleep wearing a ridiculous fushia wig on that she had never seen before. "Mom? Dad?" Cressida asked softly.
"Mmm?" Cressida heard a male's voice respond. She furrowed her brow. It had a different tone quality than her father's normal speaking tone, but then, maybe he sounded differently right as he emerged from sleep.
"Um – I have my progress report, Dad. Sorry to wake you, could you just sign it for me?" Cressida asked hoping her dad would sign it and go back to sleep. Sometimes he would ramble on about something incoherently before answering whatever request Cressida had woken him up for.
"What's this?" The voice asked again. Cressida clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. The man who sat up in bed had a light orange tint to his skin. He was definitely naked and definitely not Cressida's father. Cressida backed up and then grabbed a letter opener from her mother's nightstand. It was encrusted with real jewels. Cressida grasped it and held it up menacingly. She pointed it in front of her and came closer to the bed, pointing the blade at the man's throat.
"Who are you?" She asked, hoping a cross voice would hide the extreme fear she felt right now. "Where's my father?"
"Cressida – What are you doing in here?" Her mother asked bleary-eyed.
"I'm just trying to get my form signed from my PARENTS!" Cressida screamed the last word. "WHRERE DID DAD GO?" Her mother stared at her blankly. "ANSWER ME! NOW!" She pointed the mail opener at her mother maintaining the grip on the handle even though both her hands were visibly shaking.
"Oh – he must be at Regina's place." Her mother muttered. Cressida's stomach was doing backflips, and she choked down her own vomit as she drew closer to the bed and smelled the alcohol on both their breaths. "Cressida – I won that at an auction – I don't want that scratched." Her mother said staring at the letter opener that was an inch away from her throat.
"Oh – she'd make a great tribute if she was a district girl." The man chuckled as Cressida backtracked to get her progress report from the dresser. Keeping the letter-opener pointed at the two adults, she slammed down her progress report and a pen on her mother's bedside table. Her mother scribbled something that looked like her signature a few inches below the signature line. "You know – that mail opener can't cut through flesh, dear." Cressida drew it back and threw it. Her mother screamed and the man beside her swore. The handle hit the mirror above her mother's dresser, shattering the glass. With one motion, Cressida stuffed her form in her backpack, threw her pack over her shoulder, and ran out of the room. She didn't stop running until she was in front of a familiar looking door on the other side of the building. She pounded on it.
"POLLUX! CASTOR!" She called. "HELP ME! PLEASE –" The door opened and a small slight woman with eyes as large as dinner plates stared back at her.
"You're in trouble." The woman said softly. Cressida stepped through the threshold. "Would you like me to get –" The woman's voice trailed off as Cressida burst out sobbing.
"CRESS!" Pollux yelped. Cressida heard Pollux jump down the last few stairs.
"No – son – let me talk to her first." A gentle but commanding voice said. Through her tears, she could still place the voice and wondered what a former Victor and his wife were doing in the Smiths' apartment. Cressida was gasping between sobs and her legs suddenly felt wobbly. She allowed Wiress who was holding her in a protective hug to guide her to the couch to join Beetee. Cressida sat down, put her elbows on her knees, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed. Wiress rubbed her back and began humming some sort of lullaby.
"You're safe here, my dear." Beetee said. "Whatever happens, you're safe with us." Pollux and Castor stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs. Their mother cleared her throat loudly.
"Boys, I need your help to make more oatmeal. Now, please." She said. Cressida's sobs were slowing as they all heard Mrs. Smith and the boys making the maximum amount of racket in the kitchen cooking.
"My – my – mom – I – went – into her room – for her to sign my form – and – and – this man – he was – there – in – bed – and – I – I don't know where Dad went –"
"Did this man hurt you?"
"No. I would have tried to stab him with Mom's letter opener – I chucked – that – at the mirror – Mom – Mom said – Dad – Dad was at – another – person – a – a lady's house – They – They just – let strangers – in – and – I – I didn't know – I didn't know – it was – like that – with them –" Cressida stammered between sobs. "I – I don't have normal parents – and – that's all I want – is – a normal life – but – I – I can't –" She started a fresh round of sobbing. Somehow Wiress was still humming to her and rubbing her back.
"Unfortunately, you just discovered the dark side of living in the Capital." Beetee said. "Suffice it to say – that many people tend to take their party-going home. You unfortunately caught your mother – and I suppose your father in the act."
"Does – everyone – Are everyone's parents like that?"
"Perhaps most are not as extreme as your parents. Though, I'm sure there are a handful of parents that are much worse than yours." Beetee said. "District Three's styling team knows your parents quite well." He said. "Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't know about all this before now. Of course, I can imagine it's quite shocking." Cressida looked up at Beetee. She felt as if she cried herself dry. Wiress had stopped humming but continued rubbing her back.
"Breakfast is ready whenver you three are ready." Mrs. Smith said. Cressida wasn't hungry, but she forced herself to eat because she was the Smiths' guest.
"Beetee – could you get my bottle of –" Wiress looked over at Cressida who was beginning to look rather pale.
"Sure, dear." Beetee said excusing himself from the table. He came back with a small vial and was busy doing something in the kitchen. He came out with a pink drink in a small glass. "Cressida, this should settle your stomach for school." Beetee said. "It will calm you down, but you can still focus. Wiress had to use it before she took her national engineering exams." He said smiling. Wiress smiled shyly back before taking Beetee's hand in her own.
"Right, you three. If you hurry, you won't be late, ok?" Mrs. Smith said. She kissed each of her boys and then gave Cressida a hug. "Cressida, honey, you can come to our house after school if you don't feel like you can go to your house." Cressida nodded.
The three walked to school in silence. Cressida felt a larger hand take one of hers. She looked over at Pollux before squeezing his hand in return. She sighed. The sooner she could get absorbed in school work or something, the sooner she could forget the events of this morning.
School was passing by slowly but uneventfully. Cressida had finished her worksheet well ahead of the class as usual and was starting a note in code to Pollux. "Yes. District 11 also supplies beverages such as wine." Mr. Vainer said grinning. "In fact, I was about ready to pick up some sangria after work today." Everyone laughed.
"I just started going to my parents' parties." One of the students bragged.
"Oh yes – Parties are a wonderful place for you all to get to know your parents' friends and meet the great leaders of Panem." Mr. Vainer said proudly.
"Yeah – and has anyone else ended up waking up with your parents' friends in your house?" Cressida asked icily. Castor dropped his pencil case that he was fiddling with.
"Cressida – now – dear – you should consider it an honor to have distinguished guests in your house, dear." Mr. Vainer said clearly shocked by her outburst. "Even if it means that you may have to help with chores. Of course, your parents could just hire an Avox to clean for you if they host guests often."
"Yeah – I'm used to my mom bringing guests home for dinner. I just had the unpleasant surprise of walking in on my mom's guest laying where dad is in bed." Cressida snapped. "Now – tell me Mr. Vainer – is that really proper protocol for a distinguished Capital citizen?"
"When you're older – you'll understand – how buisness or political relationships really do have a personal edge to them. Of course, we're getting a bit off track from our subject at hand." Pollux suddenly sneezed and knocked a stack of papers off his desk. Cressida bent down to pick them up when she saw a note written in code. Don't push it.
"I – I'm sorry for my outburst, Mr. Vainer – I – I guess I was just – I'm a bit tired from helping my parents with - so many of their social functions." "Yes – well – at the Capital, we have a very intricate social rulebook, as you all will learn while navigating society." Mr. Vainer said. "Now, we've covered common drinks. Can anyone guess where our excellent shellfish comes from?" Cressida's mind wandered. Whatever 'social rulebook' the adults in the Capital played by, it was absurd. How could anyone condone partying at the expense of their own children? Of course, not everyone's parents were near the extreme end, but still, Cressida was beginning to see what Pollux and Castor had seen for years: the degree of shallowness and flippancy of life and the culture of the Capital.