Celina 2
I sat in the justice building, feeling the soft blue velvet of the long chair with my hands, trying to keep calm. I knew I would be here for a good few hours, and I needed something repetitive but simple to stop me from going completely insane. I stroked the sapphire velvet with the thumb of my left hand for an hour, thinking about Martin. He looked so young and unprepared. Most boy tributes from our district are volunteers; I wonder why no-one volunteered this year? What surprised me most of all was how skinny he was. Most kids develop strong arms from fishing; even I had a bit of beef around my shoulders from working since my parents died when I was about 8. I should probably explain about them.
My father was one of the most skilled fishermen in the district. He supplied most of the fishmongers with fresh fish every day without fail. Even with that, he managed to feed me and my mother amply. My mother told me they made a promise to never let any of their children take tesserae. Even though they only had me, they worked hard, catching fish, washing clothes, anything that got them money. Our life was perfect, almost.
"Celina Bremner, your time for visitors is up." A strict peacekeeper entered the room and ushered me towards the entrance of the Justice Building.
I was not prepared for what faced me. An army of photographers and cameramen swarmed as soon as Martin and I put one foot outside the decorative doors. They had come to capture our faces for the greedy people at the Capitol, so they could place their bets on who would die first. The bright lights dazzled me; I hated anything brighter than the sun that came down on our cobbled streets. I hated looking straight at the sun, even though many kids at school played games of who could look into its depths the longest.
As me and Martin got pushed onto the shining Capitol train, I glimpsed what we must look like to our district. Our district is famed for having exceptional fighters, like Finnick Odair, who will be mentoring for the first time since his win 3 years ago. He is only 17, but he is just what the Capitols idea of a victor is. Strong, with bulging muscles, and a face like a God. His eyes were amazing, sea green, and shifted and changed as much as the water that surrounded our district. They sparkled and danced when he was happy, but became hard and darkened considerably when he was moody, or concentrating. As I said, Martin and I were completely different from what District 4 usually offered up. I was small for my age, and my muscles, though strong, were not obvious. Martin just looked like a weakling, but he must have an interesting story, as no-one volunteered. Usually we have about 5 volunteers and it is very complicated, but this year there were none.
Martin had obviously been crying, and I was enraged that no-one had offered to take his place. He looked so young, so I tried to comfort him, and as my arm encircled his small body, I was surprised to feel strong, supple muscles underneath his pale skin. He shrugged me off, and we boarded the train in silence.
"Now kids, I think it's time for you to meet your mentors!" Den screamed in our faces, showering us with his saliva. Even with this disgusting experience, that was the first thing I had heard all day that genuinely exited me. "Celeen, you are going to be mentored by no other that the great Finnick ODAIR!" Ugh, I hate it when people pronounce my name wrong. And why did he feel the need to put emphasis on Odair, which other Finnick might it be?
"What about me?" Martin demanded, "I'm not getting mentored by the same one as HER." Martin had now dropped the wuss act, and his face had set into a hard mask of determination. At least I wasn't the only one shocked by the sudden change in Martin, Den looked positively white, even under his dyed blue skin. I'm sure he only dyed it blue to 'match' his district.
"Oh…umm, well," Den stretched his too tight collar, and shuffled some papers around, "Well, Mags is free if you want her?"
"WHAT?" Martin slammed his delicate glass down on the table, instantly shattering it, "THAT OLD COW?"
"Yes, and just remember, I'm only 73 young man." A soft voice came from the entrance to the dining car we were in.
"Ugh," Martin sighed, "Just forget it; I don't want a mentor anymore." He stormed out, nursing his bleeding hand, pulling glass out of his flesh.
"Well, pleased to see we've got off to such a good start." A masculine voice purred from behind Mags, laced with amusement.
"Oh Finnick, what are you saying! It's been terrible!" Den cried. Hmm, apparently being from the Capitol inhibited your ability to comprehend sarcasm. A small gasp escaped my lips as the most gorgeous man on the planet stepped from behind the frail frame of Mags. He was wearing worn blue jeans, and a smart sapphire polo shirt. He sauntered over to me, and lazily pecked my cheek, obviously enjoying the blush that spread from my cheeks to my entire face. When he embraced me, it was too much, and I blindly pushed him away, mumbling something about finding my bedroom.
As soon as I shut the door, I realised how much I missed human contact. I didn't bother going to school after my parents died, and I only spoke to the old tailor, who saved me scraps of material in return for fresh fish every day. As I contemplated this, I threw myself on the richly embroidered bedspread, covered with shimmering silver fishes and shells. It was beautiful, but kind of tacky, and so delicate that I was afraid it would unravel completely if I caught a fingernail in one thread of the heavy stitching. Completely paranoid, I searched around looking for a rectangle of some sort of cardboard with sand embedded in it. I think it is called an emery board, but I haven't seen one since my mother died. I eventually found one, but being a Capitol train, it was a platinum fish shaped one, with tiny diamonds instead of the rough sand I was used to. As I looked around the room, filing my nails, I noticed everything was fish-shaped, blue or silver. I mean, come on, I know I'm from a fishing district, and no-one is going to see this compartment except for me.
I knew I should go for dinner, as I was already late, but I needed a shower, as much to calm my frazzled nerves as to wash the day away. I stepped into the transparent azure tub, and was immediately baffled by the array of buttons and sliders in front of me. I pressed a button saying 'S' and was doused in strawberry scented foam. I spluttered and tried to get it out of my eyes, accidentally pressing a button which released a swarm of powder, crusting over my hair and skin. As the powder touched water, it blossomed to about 7 times its original volume, filling the room with sickly lavender foam. I tried to press the button to turn the powder thing off, but since I had no idea which one I pressed in the first place, it was an impossible task. I just pressed the water button, trying to wash it all away, when I remembered what happened with the powder, which was filling the tub at an alarming rate. The high pressure shower pummelled into my back, and as soon as it touched the lavender powder, it was like an explosion of sickly sweet flowers, invading my nose, eyes, ears, anything it could. I slipped out of the bath, and fumbled with the door handle, slick with the evil smelling lavender stuff. I burst out of the room, and slammed the door behind me, panting and leaning against the door, naked and completely covered in purple gunk, just to see Finnick Odair, collapsing with laughter on my bed.