I cannot believe I have so much crap from this story that I never posted. It's amazing what my mind dregs up…Anyways, thanks anon reviewer for making my day a little brighter. I was NOT expecting a review, and only wanted to get this on fan fiction because it looked lonely in my documents. Thanks! Anyways, this is a biggun'.
* As I stand in front of the full length mirror, a grinning Ani behind me, I can't help but smile.
I am dressed in a simple brown and gold dress, which shimmers whenever it hits the light, a tail of silken feathers flowing from it, looking sleek and shiny. My hair is pulled back from my face, revealing the makeup of gold and black swirls that danced around my eyes, bringing out the mysterious orange in them. My lips are coated in gold dust.
The oddest, and perhaps most beautiful part of the outfit, though, are the wings. They are made of the same flowing material as the tail, but under them is an incredibly elaborate-looking contraption of metal, which Ani assures me will allow me to fly right through the air during the ceremony. The thought of it makes my heart pound.
Rome comes out from the room next to mine, dressed the same, but with more brown in his outfit. His eye makeup looks more like sharp brown feathers ringing his eyes, angular and hawkish. I laugh when I see him.
He looks confused. "What, do I look stupid?"
I grin and shake my head. "I just never pictured you as a bird."
He grins back, eyes crinkling. "Birds of a feather flock together."
After showing Rome and I how to work our mechanical wings, Ani looks amazingly happy, eyes sparkling. "You'll both be magnificent."
But something troubles me. "What if they don't know the story?" I ask. I doubt The Capitol has ever learned about the ancient miners. Or anything else besides how to use a credit card and apply makeup.
She flutters a careless hand in the air. "Oh, I told the announcer to tell it while you go out. Trust me, I thought of everything."
"I sure hope so," says Rome.
The door opens once more, and Katniss strides in, stopping at the sight of us.
Ani looks at her nervously, and I know she's thinking of Katniss' own outfit. "Well, what do you think?"
Katniss smiles, a bit sadly. "Cinna would've loved it. What do you think?" she asks us.
"We love it," we both say.
Katniss nods. "Good." The she takes us by the shoulders and leads us out. "Because we're just about to start."
My stomach does a back flip when I think about the flying part. Could I do it? My brain becomes a jumble as I try to recall Ani's instructions.
Rome's hand clasps mine. "Flick the switch, slant your arms, bank left to turn left, bank right to turn right," he whispers in my air. "And I won't let go."
"You don't know how happy I am that you're here," I say, thinking of what it would be like to go out with that little boy. I would've had to be the strong one, and I am not sure if I can be as brave as Rome. At least, not now.
We climb on top of our carriage, drawn by brown and tan horses, and watch on the screen as District 1 goes out, adorned in jewels and gold, looking like glittering diamonds. The crowd goes wild.
I watch, and try to recognize people from their Reaping. I only see the pregnant girl from District 11, because of her stomach under her costume, and the wide-eyed girl from 4, who is coated in glittering blue scales to resemble a fish. The crowd loves her, but she stays to the back of the chariot, staring at them solemnly.
Then it's our turn. Rome grasps my hand tight, Ani yells at us to smile, and then suddenly we're out in the open, facing a crowd of thousands. My smile is stuck in my throat.
But then they start screaming, and I realize that they actually like us. A smile breaks through and I wave.
Rome looks over at me. "Ready?" he yells.
"Ready," I scream back. Then we flip our switches.
The tiny twin jets in our wings blast off, and we shoot into the air like a cork from a bottle, swirling into the darkened sky, still holding hands.
I'm doing it. I'm flying!
I laugh at the absurdity of it all as the crowd goes ballistic, stamping their feet and throwing flowers into our chariot. I hear them shouting our names, my name, and I let go of Rome's hand and do a back flip in midair, smiling from ear to ear. The crowd yells my name even louder, and not to be outdone, Rome does a flip of his own and then spirals into the air, higher and higher, until… The crowd screams as he dives straight down, pulling up at the last second and swooping around them, touching their outstretched hands. I do the same.
The beeping of my wings signals that it's time to land, and Rome and I rejoin on the carriage, grabbing hands as we land.
Rome is smiling feverishly, looking happier then I've ever seen him, eyes wild, and I smile back, looking only at him, getting lost in my own giddiness. I'm so happy he is here with me, even if we both are going to die. Even if we won't ever be together again.
And then suddenly he's so close his lips are on my own, crushing them fiercely, and he wraps his arms around me. My heartbeat shoots up, doing double time, and I surprise myself by kissing back, even harder and faster. My mouth opens and I breath in his scent of smoke and wood, and I feel fire around us. We are my combustible carvings, on the cusp of exploding into flame.
The screams subside from my ears, now crazed, so that only Rome is there, holding me tight against him, his face on mine. The fire around us shoots ten feet higher, making my face hot and sweaty.
And suddenly it's over. The chariot stops with a lurch in the circle, in between 13 and 11. Rome lets me go, his eyes wide and mouth open. I'm sure I look the same.
The crowd is screaming our names still, totally ignoring the others. For the kiss or our costumes, I wasn't sure. Perhaps both.
And then the president walks up the steps, her blood-red dress fanning out behind her. She isn't older than fifty, but has had so many surgeries that she lookes much older than she actually was, too fake to be true. No one has told her this. President Mason is the type of woman who wouldn't have hard feelings about poisoning your morning coffee.
"Yes, yes," she says at her podium, flicking her hand in annoyance to signal the crowd to stop chanting. "A pair of lovebirds." She zeroes in on us coldly, her gaze settling on me. I try to look away but I can't. Her ice blue eyes take me in and hold me, making me feel like I'm being held face first in a snowdrift, taking away my breath and leaving me chilled.
Her eyes snap away after what seems like ages. I let out a slow, deep breath. I can feel Rome's gaze on me, but I ignore him. The thought of the kiss, in public, on television, makes my cheeks burn. The fire around us is gone, only the smoke filling my nose. I shift away from him and take a seat, not sure what to look at. I settled for my perfectly manicured fingernails, each painted a glittery bright yellow.
I stay like that for the rest of the ceremony, not even trying to pay attention as President Mason rambles on about the history of the games, how they were once disrupted, but inevitably were started again. The whole time she is looking at Katniss, with a certain hatred that I can only describe as absolute fury. Katniss stares coldly back, never backing down.
Our chariots start to move forward again, leading us back from where we came from. As they come to a halt, I climb up and over the side, not bothering to wait for the Avoxes to take down the stairs. As Rome jumps off after me, following close, I feel like crying. I didn't know what to think about what happened between us, and I'm not sure if I want to.
The girl from District 4, the one covered in scales, is still in her chariot, eating an apple. I'm mesmerized for a second by her glittering, flowing skin. She's so tiny, she could only be twelve at the most.
She catches me staring, adjusts the fin perched on top of her blonde hair and gives me a thumbs up. She whistles at Rome and I as we pass, and I duck my head and avert my gaze. This is not the petrified girl I had watched on my T.V. last night. This version is much more sure of herself.
I wonder if they'd all be like that; More confident now that the shock has worn off. I certainly am not. If anything, I feel more afraid.
At least I have Rome, I tell myself. But do I? I have always thought of us as friends, always and forever. I have never considered…
I know I need to talk to him, but I am a coward. As we leave the other tributes behind, walking down the street alone, the words are stuck in my throat, and won't come out.
He doesn't say anything either, but I know he is guessing at my feelings. He sighs as we enter the warm lobby of the Training Center's hotel, but I don't have the courage to say anything until we get to the elevator.
"So," I ask, "Nervous about training?" I hold my breath as I wait for an answer.
For a moment he is quiet, but I can see that pretending it never happened made him angry. His brow furrows and he turns away.
"Come to my room after you get out of this thing." He plucks at his costume, unknowingly removing a feather. I watch it float down to the floor. "We need to talk."
The elevator dings as we get to the top forward, and he immediately strides into the pink room and through the right door, where his prep team eagerly awaits him.
My stomach feels like it has stones in it as I walk heavily toward my own prep team. But when I open the door, only Ani is waiting for me.
She looks like she already knows why I'm angry at myself, but she still asks, "What's wrong, Philla?"
And that's when I burst into tears.
I have cried more times then I would've thought physically possible through the time my name had been drawn on the stage. Probably more than I ever have in my life before The Games.
Ani acts more kind and understanding then I deserve. She sits on the edge of the bathtub and rocks me back and forth, just like my mother would do when I was very small and had nightmares.
"It's okay, Philla, it's okay," she says in my ear. Finally, I manage to stop sobbing. I pull back an inch to see that Ani's beautiful white dress had been entirely ruined by my running makeup. A feeling of shame washes over me.
Ani holds me out arms length so that she can look right into my tear-streaked face.
"You are about to compete in The Hunger Games," she says seriously. "You are brave and strong, and this is not the time to worry about boys." Then she smiles. "So go get 'em."
She helps me peel off my sweaty clothes and wash off all the ridiculous makeup, giving me a pair of blue silk pajamas. I do the buttons on them all the way up, then take the elevator to Rome's room.
It is a lie to say I am not terribly nervous. Rome has a reputation of having a bit of a temper, especially when people have wronged him. Rome isn't the best at forgiving and forgetting, and I certainly knows that neither of us had forgot that kiss. I touch my lips, which feel like they are still tingling just a bit.
Rome and I's rooms are on floor 12, since we lived in District 12. Katniss' room is the only one in between us.
I go to the door marked 314 and knocked tentatively. The door opens almost immediately, as if Rome has been waiting this whole time. I don't doubt he was.
"Hi," I say quietly, taking my seat on his bed. He sits in the chair facing me, as if he doesn't want to get to close.
Everything is quiet for a moment, as if Rome is thinking of what to say. I know that I am definitely at loss for words..
He gives me a long look, and I can tell he's trying not to come off as angry. Finally, he just says: "Why Philly?"
"Why what?" I say back. He is the one that kissed me. It wasn't my fault.
"Why are you acting like this?" He gestures to me, as if there is something I'm doing out of the normal. Now it feels like he's really blaming me, when everything is his fault.
I stand up, face flushing, so that I am looking down on him in the chair. "I should be asking you that question," I shout, waving my arms like a madman. "Why did you kiss me in front of everyone? I didn't ask you to! I didn't want you to!"
He's not trying to keep composed anymore. Quite the opposite, actually. "You know, Philla, I thought you would've gotten it by now, but I guess you're just clueless. I'm sorry I kissed you without asking for your permission," he says scornfully. "I didn't know I had to. I thought…" he trails off, seeming too angry for words. He slumps into his chair and puts his face in his hands.
"Are you crying?" I say, too shocked to put any anger in it.
He wipes at his eyes. "Yes, Philla. I cry when I get frustrated. You know that. And you, are the most frustrating person I know."
I had never seen Rome cry before, not once. Shouldn't he be ashamed at crying in front of me? Aren't most guys like that?
"Sorry to be frustrating," I say. "Maybe I should just leave."
"Maybe you should."
Cheeks burning, I stride toward the door. I'm almost out when he says, "Philla, I really am sorry. I didn't know you felt like that. It was just the moment…" I turn around as he trails off, but don't move toward him.
"I get it," I whisper back. "Just the moment. Me too." Then I leave without another word, shutting the door behind me.
Katniss is standing outside her door, teacup clutched in one hand, one of my flaming birds in the other. To tired to get mad at an old woman, I just say, "Where did you get that?"
"Ani told me to give it to you. You left it in the Prep Room." She places it into my hand and closes my fingers around it. "You before careful, Philla. You don't want to lose anything important. Especially during The Games."
Before I can say anything back, she walks into her room.
I study the little bird in my palm. It's a mockingjay, one of the first I made. My twelve year old hands had clumsily whittled it, but it still has a delicate sweetness to it. I take out a match and light it on fire, carrying it into my room and letting it light my way through the dark and to my bed.
I climb in and blow it out, too tired to stay awake and dwell on today's activities. In a matter of minutes, I'm asleep, off to a better place where The Games do not exist and I'm just my old self.