Chapter 3: The Master Plan

Ransom doesn't say anything. He just keeps that look on his face, following silently as Hamlin shows us around the main train cars; the dining car, the viewing car, the screening room car, our quarters, each of which is bigger than my home back home and has its own bathroom.

Titus' eyes widen in shock at the sight of it. "This whole thing is for me?" he asks, looking around his room. Our quarters are nearly identical besides the color schemes. His; green. Mine; lavender. Ransom politely excused himself from the tour and disappeared somewhere after the viewing car and I'm grateful for the distraction, not sure what's going on with him. I need to process my own emotions before I try to dissect the mystery that is Ransom.

Hamlin nods eagerly at Titus. "Of course. We want you to be comfortable after all. We will be on the train for two and a half days before we reach the Capitol. Your district has nearly the longest commute there, tied with district twelve of course."

This doesn't surprise me. Both District 6 and District 12 border the woods that eventually lead to the decimated remains of District 13. We are the furthest away from the Capitol and two of the largest and most ignored districts for that reason.

"I suppose I'll let you two relax for a bit," Hamlin says chipperly. "You've had a long day. Feel free to explore the train if you'd like. There are snacks and drinks littered about. Dinner will be at seven in the dining car.

He skips away, leaving Titus and I standing in the corridor alone. Our rooms are in the same hallway, though at opposite ends of the impossibly long stretch. We wait until Hamlin is out of sight, on the other side of the electronic door before we look at one another.

I take a deep breath, running my hands over my eyes. Titus sighs, watching where Hamlin disappeared.. "That is a very weird man."

Titus spoke in a very direct, almost simple way. In all the time that I'd known him, I never saw him speak to anyone but his family. He had several little siblings and cousins, but kept to himself at school. Not that I blamed him. I hadn't been very social either.

"Very weird," I agree.

Titus doesn't say anything else. He turns and heads for his quarters pressing the button to open the door and shutting it quickly. I decide to go back to my own room, realizing a little alone time might be good for me. I'm itching to get this reaping dress off of me. I strip it off the moment I'm in the quarters alone, spending nearly an hour under the warming jets of the shower. We have an industrial shower at Wheaty's garage, meant to hose someone down if they get oil or grease in their face, which I have been under a few times but it's nothing like this. This Capitol shower is like being reborn. It takes layers of dirt off my skin I didn't know was there. The dryer on the floor shoots warm air up my body instantly warming me and drying my hair. How helpful these would be in the winter in Six. It is so cold back home we have nearly gotten frostbite every winter. It's a biting, vicious cold that sticks to your bones. It's sharp. It feels like you'd never be warm. If they can put these kinds of warmers outside showers it makes me wonder what the Capitol people do to warm their homes. I bet they never feel the effects of winter the way we do.

When I'm done, I look in the mirror, fascinated by the thick, styled curtain of blonde hair that hangs on around my face. It's never looked like this before, sleek and shiny. I run my finger tips over it softly.

The dressers in my quarters are filled with thick, well-made clothes. I rifle through them picking out a pair of thick, pleated pants and a long sleeved t-shirt that is more fitted than anything I would normally wear back home. I am not oblivious to how much it draws attention to my chest. While the rest of my body is thin and narrow from years of giving up food to Herbie and Morgan, my breasts have always remained. An uncomfortable trait that made me noticeable among Peacekeepers back home.

I lie down on the bed, over the thick luxurious covers. And stare at the ceiling, trying to see if I can feel the movement of the train behind me. I can't, it's too fast and sleek. It feels like we're' not moving at all. For the first time, since the reaping, I let myself picture Herbie and Morgan and what they're doing right now. They'll be with Rodney now. In his house, with his daughter. I know they're safe. They will be fed, but my heart clenches at the thought of how they're feeling. There will be no apple pie for them tonight. I won't be there to ruffle their hair and make sure they tucked into bed. I feel the tears come and make no move to wipe them as they roll down the sides of my face and onto the bedspread.

I lie there until I hear the gentle knock on the door. I sit up immediately, just as Ransom appears in the doorway. He stops and stares at me for a moment, before closing the door behind him.

"You look different," he says finally.

"I showered," I say formally, crossing my arms over my chest. I watch his gaze drift there for a second, his eyes widening in surprise before darting back up to my face. I try to stop the color from rising to my cheeks but it's useless. He's looked. I've caught him. We're both a little embarrassed.

Ransom shifts uncomfortably, "Well, it looks good on you."

I don't know what to say. I don't know how to accept a compliment from Ransom when it is so out of character.

So I skip it instead. "Are you going to tell me why you held my hand on the Platform?" I press him, my mouth pulls into line.

He chews on his lower lip. "Would you believe me if I said it was because I wanted to?"

"I'd believe you more if you said you wanted to move to the Capitol."

This causes the corner of his mouth to pull into a smirk. I stop scowling. He has a familiar smile. It always turns up slowly in the corners, a little cocky, very wide. It was a smile I used to get so often when I was little, I could have drawn it in the dirt from memory. It's been years since I've seen it.

"Well I did," he said softly. "I was scared for you, January. And I wanted to comfort you. Among other things."

"What 'other things'?" I ask, knowing this is where the root of whatever he is doing is coming from. Ransom has to have ulterior motives. There is no other reason he's acting this strangely. He's barely spoken to me in years and now he's suddenly holding my hand in public. There has to be a reason.

Ransom's grin falters a little but he recovers. He takes a few steps so that he's only inches from me.

"The fact that I am in love with you," he says simply, "and that it's going to save your life."