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BREAKFAST
The meal laid out on the table is breathtaking. Pure white linen, softly clinking silver and china and crystal. Bowls of glistening fruit and colorful flowers dazzle Rapunzel's eyes, and she claps her hands to her mouth in wonderment.
"Well, don't stand there staring, child. Heaven knows you'll need the nourishment."
Rapunzel blinks, startled. There's no sign of her fellow tribute, other than a dirty plate left abandoned, but she recognizes Maia Gothel immediately - everyone in District 9 is familiar with their victors. They are too rare not to be treasured. And Maia is more unforgettable than most, with her cascade of dark curls and regal posture.
So this is her mentor. Rapunzel smiles shyly at her, and the woman smiles back, sweetly, as if they're old friends.
"Don't be shy, now." Maia pats the chair next to her, and Rapunzel edges around the table toward it, careful of the swaying rhythm of the train. The plush carpet feels marvelous between her toes; but Maia glances down at her bare feet, and her mouth purses suddenly into a disapproving frown. "Barefoot, child? Really?"
Rapunzel blushes and sits down quickly, tucking her feet under the long hem of her dress. "I-I couldn't find any shoes," she mumbles, feeling foolish. She rarely wore them at home, but it feels like the wrong thing to admit just now.
"Oh, you poor dear." Maia is all smiles again, efficiently piling Rapunzel's plate with a dozen kinds of sliced fruit and meat. "Of course you wouldn't know better, raised in the fields like that. You're hardly more than a baby! Never you mind, that's what I'm here for." Rapunzel opens her mouth to point out that she'll be eighteen next month - that Maia was raised in the same fields - but her mentor playfully pops a fresh strawberry between her lips, corking her protests.
Obediently, Rapunzel chews, while Maia looks her over from head to toe. "Well, I'm sure we'll make something of you, one way or another," she sighs. "I don't suppose you know anything useful already?"
Rapunzel swallows. "I can play the guitar," she says, with a touch of pride. Musical instruments are precious in the far-flung districts; hers belonged to her grandfather. "And dance, and my pies are -"
"Useful, darling, not decorative," Maia interrupts, with a laugh that tinkles like breaking glass. "Come now. Surely you must know something we can turn to your advantage in the arena?"
Ever since Rapunzel was old enough to help, she has worked alongside her parents in the fields, harvesting the golden wheat. She can handle a scythe as deftly as a rolling pin or a guitar.
Rapunzel bites her lip. "No," she mumbles. "N-not really." The lie sits heavy on her tongue.
Her mentor sighs and sits back in her chair with a little shake of her head.
"Pity," she says, and spears a slice of melon with her table knife. "Ah, well. It's not the end of the world. Why, in my Games, half the Careers poisoned themselves eating the wrong berries!" She laughs brightly again, and gives Rapunzel what is surely meant to be an encouraging smile. "Who knows? Perhaps you'll get lucky, too."
Goosebumps prickle on Rapunzel's skin. "Mm," she murmurs, and finishes her breakfast in silence.