22. Wonderment and Disgust
"But most of all!" President Paylor screams from her place on one of the two balconies on opposite sides of the banquet hall. "I want everyone to enjoy the evening! And might I add be sure to eat up all the amazing delicacies provided by the best cooks from every one of the 13 districts!" The room erupts in applause, and I glance down the stairs and in the direction of the President's gesture. Near the front of the giant "banquet hall" that is more like a stadium, in fact I am almost positive that it once was a stadium, right beneath the giant winding staircase there are 26 cooks. Each one is wearing a different colored hat, two from each district, waving to the crowd. I recognize Greasy Sae and nearly topple from the 50 feet height. She was an amazing cook, but I wonder if any of the people here are aware that they may be eating wild dog stew.
I look beside me and see Johanna smiling one of her rare smiles as she gazes over the stair railing with me. Her long nude colored gown, with the sea of crystals glittering in the bright colored lights of the banquet hall is perfectly tapered to her thin, yet curvy frame. The crystals taper around each of her…unmentionable parts in a way that I am sure will make more than just Effie blush tonight. Usually, the Capitol's strange and near-naked fashions unnerve me. But for the moment I don't mind. Knowing what Johanna has been through, knowing what we all have been through, I know more than ever that a little skin isn't going to hurt anyone.
"How are we going to find anyone in that sea of people?" I murmur and Johanna leans over to see the waves of people that I am watching. There are at least 5,000 people down there, milling about and conversing and eating. There is a large circular table, or maybe a long line of tables that just appear connected, that wraps around the wall of the entire gigantic space. And the only thing more amazing than the amount of people in this stadium is the giant crystal chandelier that hangs above our heads. It dangles from a thin gold cord and spreads out in all directions in a brilliant burst of flickering diamonds that puts the smaller version in my hotel room to shame.
"Depends on who we're trying to find…?" Johanna says with a smirk, and I blush beneath her gaze. Johanna never says it with words, but she knows, maybe more than anyone now, about how much Peeta means to me. Our shared room in District 13 was more than just a room; it was like being inside of a small box full of one another's secrets. I know many of hers as well. Thankfully, Johanna never comes right out and says anything about him. She just gives glances or makes cryptic remarks that only mean something to the two of us, once roommates in that tiny box. "Anyone we know." I deadpan and she doesn't question me, just pulls at my hand and leads me down the stairs.
I am aware of the president's voice again and I hear her still trilling off her rules "And fourth, when the music plays you must dance! This is a ball after all!" More cheers from the crowd and we take a few more steps down what is surely more than a hundred stairs. I am surrounded by a sea of gowns, tuxes, plainclothes, and even a few dressed up pets, like monkeys, and dogs. And even a few mockingjays, sitting on shoulders obediently. I try to focus on the steps, as I follow Johanna. She is gripping my hand tightly, but her steps are quick, and I try to find her crystal slippers on the stairs and follow them. "And last of all, I want to welcome everyone to the first annual Freedom Ball!" She is loud and shrilling and the room erupts into what I can only describe as an imitation of a wild dog's howl. When I glance up, I see that the president has her hands around her mouth as she howls enthusiastically with the crowd. I smile, thinking, She is definitely my kind of president.
It's been over an hour and still we haven't seen anyone we know. Well, not anyone we know jointly. Johanna is talking to any and everyone who passes by us, many of them affectionately patting her or calling her name or some variation of it as they walk towards us. "Jojo?!" "Joey?!" "Hanna? Is that you?" And so on and so forth. She's quite popular and it occurs to me, that she must have a somewhat different persona outside of the one I know. Though with me she is still crass and blunt, surely there must be some softer side to her than the whole being free of the Capitol, free of the games, has pulled out.
I stand idly by, fiddling with the drawstrings on my cloak, a plain brown dress cloak that Cinna made me. It is a thin material that almost shapes perfectly to my dress so that at first glance it appears I am wearing a dress of deep brown. But all I have to do is untie the latches and the cloak falls away to reveal my beautiful gown underneath. But I can't find anyone that I want to show my dress to. I feel so silly, standing here and awkwardly smiling as people talk to Johanna.
I don't want to be known as the Mockingjay, or even the co-victor from 12, but right about now, I am slightly annoyed with the whole "No Hunger Games talk" rule because at least if someone could acknowledge knowing who I am, I'd have someone to talk to. I am just thinking about going up to my room lying in bed and taking up my counting game until I fall asleep, when I hear the crowd shrilling and the president's loud voice booming over the microphone once more.
"Here they are everyone, some of the brave freedom fighters, who made all of this possible! Peeta Mellark, Haymitch Abernathy, and Plutarch Heavensbee!" I glance in the direction she is pointing, and I see the three people I have been waiting to see walking down the stairs lazily with a spotlight trained on them.
First, I take in Plutarch. He looks predictably ridiculous in his shining purple jacket with silver pants. Effie is on his arm beside him with a purple dress and silver wig, and I can't help but smirk at the tight expression on her face. I know as sure as I'm looking at her it's because the president didn't call her name. Next over is Haymitch, he looks…nice. His face is no longer green, so I am assuming what his hand is patting beneath his deep green jacket is a flask. But still, his eyes are almost shining, and his face has been shaved! How did Effie swing that? I think, before I remember what I have been trying to avoid. No, he is shaved because he is a soldier now fighting one last battle to what I fear will be his death. My stupid, drunken mentor, heading Paylor's "Anti's" finding team, but I don't have time to bemoan Haymitch because finally, I see him. And my breath catches.
Peeta is in a crisp tan suit laced with a blue tie and flower that matches his eyes. His features are scrubbed clean, and I can't help but think that he looks bewitching. I feel my heart pounding as I imagine dancing with him, his eyes when he sees my dress, his face as he leans in to—and then…
…I see her.
Walking beside him wearing a long, skin-tapered fiery orange dress that is matched by the fire of her hair is the red-headed girl from the square. Ugh.
And Haymitch made me leave my arrows at home.
