Sorry about the lack of updates. Just finished my semester of school. I frequently compare my morning commute (walking, bus ride, metro, shuttle) to the tributes going to the Capitol. Whatever.

Detention

I stepped back. Yuffie lay on the ground, blood seeping out of her nose. Students backed away from me as if I had a deadly disease. One boy threw up. I looked at my hands. They seemed to have a mind of their own. In any regard, I was not disappointed in their decisions.

"Miss Trinket!" yelled our haggardly old school teacher, "You follow me this instant."

She waddled down the hallway, dividing the mob of horror-stricken students. I followed sheepishly, while avoiding the gaze of my former peers.

"She had it coming," someone whispered.

I felt empowered. No one, absolutely no one pokes fun at my expense. The hag led me to the head in charge of upper school. She directed me to a beaten green couch and sat me down. I twiddled my thumbs in anticipation. No doubt, mother would receive a rather embarrassing phone call. I just keep embarrassing everyone, don't I?

"Trinket. Go on in."

The door opened. There sat a plain, wooden chair. The head sat behind her studious desk, arms folded. I stepped into the office.

"Sit."

Gripping the end of my skirt, I lowered myself into the chair and crossed my legs at the ankle. The head stood up and walked over to me.

"Well, who do we have here?" she asked with a morbid tone.

"Effie Trinket," I answered with my head down.

"And why have you been sent to me?" she had reached me.

"I punched my best friend."

"Why would you do such a thing?" her hand touched my shoulder gently.

"She uh," I started, shocked at her touch, "She spread malicious rumors about me. When I confronted her, she simply denied my accusations. Then she provoked me."

I became faintly aware of a heated sensation rising in my chest. The head had her hand on shoulder firmly. She seemed to pull at the sinews in my arm.

"What did she say?" her breath tickled my ear.

"Um. She…she…tarnished my reputation."

Her mouth was at my ear. Her whispers set my on edge.

"Go on."

Her hand slid down my shoulder onto my chest. I chose a particular low-cut outfit that morning. Those manicured nails grew closer to my breasts. I decided to give it one more try.

"She called me a whore."

Her hand stopped.

"Are you a whore, Miss Trinket?"

I stood up. My face had turned beet red. She gazed at me, the hint of a smirk playing on her face. My breathing quickened.

"Excuse me?" I screeched, "Isn't this inappropriate?"

She came closer. I backed up and hit the chair. What the hell is going on? She reached around me and threw the chair to the ground. Then she shoved me against her desk.

"Look. You are facing serious trouble. I could have you suspended. Or worse," she added, "So, are you going to play ball?"

She pressed me into the desk. My legs, exposed from the short skirt, cut on the rough edges of the wood. I was at an utter loss for words. She leaned in. I could smell her perfume invading my nostrils. Her hands gripped my slender hips. Suddenly, her lips were an inch away from mine.

"No," I answered, "I am not a whore. And I will not play ball. I highly suggest you take your hands off me this instant."

Both the head and my heart stopped. She removed her hands off my body.

"Detention," she whispered, "And I highly suggest you never return to my office. Be a good girl. If you can."

I hurried out of the office. Detention? That's it? No fascist torture chamber? On the other hand, was I just molested by my school administrator? I decided to lay low. I told no one of our encounter, glad for any excuse to stay away from her office. I had heard rumors-we all had, but then again I do not believe everything I hear. Besides, I might have enjoyed it. A little.

Detention, sub sequentially, was not too enjoyable. Interesting, but not enjoyable. I arrived on time, naturally. A drowsy looking man occupied the room.

"Is this detention?" I asked him politely.

"Clearly. Couldn't you tell?" he snapped, "Take a seat, sweetie."

Sweetie? Clearly, this school is the epitome of unprofessionalism. I grabbed the seat closest to the exit. A hasty departure once this lug nut fell asleep. I pulled a nail file out of my bag and attempted to spend the duration of my isolation fixing my cuticles. By the time I had perfected my pinkie, the geezer had fallen asleep. Quietly, I slipped out unnoticed.

When I came home, mother exhibited signs of a panic attack.

"Where were you!" she screeched, escorting me into the house, "We were so worried!"

"Detention," I responded quietly.

"Oh, why didn't you call? We could have came a gotten you for something as meager as dete- What! You got detention! How? What! Effie Trinket!"

I had a lot of explaining to do. I sat my parents down and tried to explain what was happening.

"And then she almost molested me," I concluded.

"She does that to everyone," Alfie inserted as he came into the parlor.

"Effie, I don't know what to say. Stealing, lying, detention. This is not like you," mother reported quietly, "I am afraid that you will not be going out for a while."

I nodded my head shamefully. Escaping to my bedroom was the only option. Once safely under my covers, the waterworks began. How can it be that I shame everyone associated with me? What is wrong with me? I cried myself out and tried to sleep. Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door.

"Effie, let me in," whispered Alfie.

I ran over to my bedroom door and opened it. He quickly slipped inside and sat on my bed.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, drying my eyes.

"I um, just wanted to say that I think it's cool that you stood up to Yuffie. You know, I had a bully in lower school. He used to beat me up all the time and take my lunch money, but you-you stood up to yours," he mumbled.

I sat next to him. Of course, I knew he was bullied. It led to an enormous amount of paperwork for father and a quick transfer of schools. However, I never expected admiration for my actions.

"So, you are grounded, huh?" he asked scratching his head.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Well, I think we should change that. Come Friday, we will sneak out of the house. We can crash Seneca Crane's party," he smiled.

The thought brought a smile to my face. Nothing like sibling bonding in the form of sneaking out in the middle of the night to crash a Capitol party. I consented immediately. He smiled and gave me a rare hug. Then he turned to leave.

"You know you inspire me sometimes, Effie."