ChApter three
I flop down on my bed and bite down on my pillow, hard. When I finally unclamp my jaw from the soft material, my mouth hurts. I take off my clothes, pull on a nightgown, and close my eyes, willing sleep to come. Tomorrow I will be in the Capitol, left to the hands of my stylists.
I'm woken up by the cold hands of Finnick. He shakes me awake like he used to back home before school. I grimace at the old memory. I groan, and slap him with the pillow. He returns the gesture by pulling the covers off me, onto the floor, leaving me in the cold of the air-conditioning. I get up, ignoring the chuckling Finnick, and rub my eyes.
I shove my brother out of the room, and get dressed in a white camisole covered by a shirt of sparkly-blue chiffon with a double V-neck. I match it with a pair of slim, black chinos. I pull on some silver flats and brush my hair, unaware of the tortures my stylists will put me through.
I hasten to breakfast.
The table setting is as ornate as the night before, food set out in a buffet on side tables, and nice place-settings on the table. I bring a plate to the buffet and fill it with a ton of food: pastries, breads, and eggs. Finnick is so quiet that I don't notice him picking at his food. I slide in the chair next to him and hug him.
"Don't try to console me, to tell me it's alright," He whispers. I see a tear roll down his cheek.
"You had your turn, Finnick. Now it's mine to make you feel okay."
"You shouldn't be here. In the Games. It's all my fault." He bursts out in tears.
"What are you talking about?"
"You look really nice,"
"Don't change the subject," I snap.
"During the Games, I shouted out to the Capitol in the Arena, knowing they would hear me. I was just mad that Panem could allow a monstrosity like the Games. How they were ruining innocent lives. Apparently they heard it, although it wasn't broadcasted. I guess this is how they get me back for doing that. They're afraid of a rebellion."
"Please don't tell me that you're gonna rebel,"
"No, not now, that would be fatal. But if the time comes—
"No, not ever," I command. "At least, without me," I whisper and smile at him; he smiles back.
"Never would dream of it." He scoops some cheese that seeped out of his pastry earlier and shovels it into his mouth while getting up to leave.
There is a flourish of pastel colors as Cecily bursts through the door, Kiefer in tow.
"Hello!" She sings twirling around like a little girl.
We all mumble half-hearted hellos, not in the mood for optimism.
"Finnick, sit down," She says cheerily. "We have to go over our schedule. Okily, dokily!" Cecily still shouting despite the early hour (her Capitol accent only adding to the overall 'annoying' effect). "When we stop, we are going straight to your stylists. Please, please, please do whatever they tell you to do. Then you are all on your own until dinner!"
That is what she has to tell us? Even I could've figured that out before she came in. Oh, well. That's Cecily for you.
The inside of the train all of a sudden gets dark.
We are in the Capitol.