Author's note: You get a canon character returning in this chapter. Yay! Three guesses who? ;)
I hid the title of a young Woody Harrelson movie in this chapter, just for funsies. An Easter egg for you fans out there. Kudos if you found it! Tell me on the comments if you know which movie I mean!
Chapter 47, Tickled pink (or green?)
Ding!
The shiny doors slid open. With a steady hold on her coffee-to-go, Effie pushed the double stroller into the elevator.
There were many places to get coffee in a city like the Capitol. Any way you wanted it. Latte. Affogato. Café au lait.
But none of them, not even the pancake house, held a candle to the Forum's long black.
It was a poor substitute for sleep. Obviously. But as of late: the only consistent fuel to keep her going.
She pressed the ground floor button. Glanced under the hood of the stroller. Amy and Ian's sleeping faces, shadowed by the mosquito net.
Sweetlings, she thought, adjusting the boy's arm so he'd lay more comfortably.
She'd pay for it dearly later. The fact that their nap routine was so out of whack.
The twins had had something of a regression ever since they left Eleven. They used to sleep through the night. Mostly anyway.
Now, that was hardly ever the case. Well, yes. They fell asleep. They just didn't stay under.
And every day, without fail, business started at the crack of dawn.
Yes. She needed those espressos.
Sometimes, when the children were completely inconsolable, she brought them into bed with her.
Her own mother would have shuddered.
"They will grow too dependent on you", she'd say. "Next thing you know, they won't ever sleep on their own."
But Effie dismissed her mother's voice in her mind. You couldn't over-coddle one year olds. She knew Haymitch felt the same way.
But when she lay there in the dark next to them, lips close by their silky skin. Hand against their soft downy hair, passing the time by listening to the little noises they made in their sleep – she couldn't help but wonder.
Which most of them needed the comfort?
The twins or their mother?
She still waited for his call.
Haymitch.
A proper ring. One that counted.
"I'll send over some money", he'd told her answering machine. "Call me if you need anything. Anything at all."
Need something? she thought to herself. How about my co-parent? My co-pilot.
The time registered on the machine, told her he left his message while she was still on the train.
She couldn't escape the nagging feeling that it was not an accident. Him calling her when he knew she couldn't pick up.
All so that he didn't have to deal with anything she might say.
Apparently, he stayed over at Sae's for now.
Made sense.
Wasn't she doing the very same thing herself?
Pushed this stroller, up and down the pedestrian streets, because she couldn't stand being at home.
The house. Those empty rooms. As morning turned into night and morning anew, they only seemed bigger. Vaster. While she herself grew small.
Downtown, at least there was the open sky. The green parks and gardens. Swans bathing in the glittering blue of the Barrage.
Those getaways, those … distractions, escapes, if you will – provided crucial pockets of air.
Space to breathe. Deep belly breaths as compared to the short, shallow ones that barely moved your chest.
Outside, it was so much easier to just cast off the dashed hopes – the constant disappointment – like a suffocating overcoat.
The ball's in his court now, she reminded herself. When the need to speak to his children is greater than the need for a drink, he'll call.
And while she waited for that moment to happen, she filled the twins's days with love and attention and play.
Poured from every inch of her being – to compensate for the fact that their father wasn't around.
The elevator slowed to a stop. Broke her thoughts. Well, paused them really. Like a bookmark of a particularly depressing must-read.
Her mind had no sooner registered it was not yet her floor before the doors dinged open a second time.
The young, plump woman hurried inside. Caught completely off guard, Effie all but started, instantly recognizing her, but the girl didn't notice.
Distracted, eyes not on Effie but her own bulky purse she pressed the already lit button – all the while digging through her belongings with a stressed hand.
A stressed, green hand.
Standing so close, the scent of her perfume curled into Effie's nostrils, bringing back vivid memories, despite months and months of no contact. No contact at all.
Octavia on the other hand, had yet to see her. The elevator resumed its journey downward and she sifted through the content of her bag, more and more panicky each time.
Hair ribbons and strawberry bubblegum. Tampons and bobby pins. Squares of wet tissues, breath mints, nail varnish the same beetroot color as her hair. They all passed through her fingers.
It wasn't until her hand closed around a tube of mother pearl lipstick, still in the box, that relief flooded her face. Her brown eyes flitted up.
Looking straight into Effie's.
Such Déjà vu.
Her former co-worker, her once friend, paled – then immediately blushed a basil green.
Same as last time they crossed paths with each other. That one time by the Fountains of Youth.
The prep team coming in one direction. Haymitch, herself and the twins from the other.
Meeting halfway.
A far-off glimpse of Amy and Ian – just a few weeks old at the time – buckled up in their car safety seats was all it took. The prep team had hurried ahead, eyes downcast, without saying hello.
She couldn't run now. Octavia. Not instantly.
But not for lack of motivation. Her gaze dropped to the stroller, the twins sleeping inside, and she gave a small gasp. Turned her back, swiftly.
"Hello Octavia", Effie said softly. She had to at least try. "How are you? It's been a long time."
Octavia pressed the button in response. Once. Twice.
"I just swung by to get a coffee", Effie continued. "But really, we're heading for the playground. The Children's Castle, you know? The really big one."
Now the girl was positively assaulting the button. Like one would a candy machine after it ate your money.
"I spent so much time there when I was a girl", Effie said. "Climbing, jumping, going down slides. Proper little girls weren't supposed to, mother and father told me, but I sneaked out anyway. This'll be the twins's first time."
"We shouldn't be talking", Octavia whispered through pressed lips. "I'm not supposed to talk to you."
"Why not?" Effie slipped her coffee in the stroller's cup holder. "I thought we were friends. Well … I always considered you one."
Octavia's bottom lip quivered.
"Things aren't what they …", she mumbled. "We can't … I can't …" She shook her head. Pressed a well-manicured fingertip into the ground floor button, desperately. Long and hard.
And the elevator slowed. Slowed, slowed, slowed to a stop.
Heavy-hearted, Effie waited for the ding. For the doors to slid open, allowing Octavia's escape.
But they didn't. And they still didn't.
It was eerie how quiet the compartment had gotten.
Too quiet.
"What?" Octavia whispered. "No!" She tried the button again. Then a different one. It lit up at her command but that was it. No moving up or down. "No, no, please no!"
Ian moved sleepily, but Octavia didn't notice. Breaths growing short, frantic, her eyes darted to the display above the door. The one with the current floor number.
Two.
"Oh God, this is not happening! It's … we're going to …" Her gaze darted around the elevator. As if searching for something to use for a ram. Coming up with nothing, she shrieked and dashed for the doors.
Tried to pry them open with her bare hands.
"No, wait." Effie stepped forward. A gentle hand on Octavia's shoulder. "Don't do that. Hold on."
And she pressed her own finger against – not the floor buttons but the big yellow one. For emergencies.
"Oh, for crying out loud, Timmy", a male voice barked on the other end. "I've told you a hundred times, stop messing with the buttons! I'll tell your mama on you."
"Um, hello", said Effie.
"Who is this?"
"Me", she replied and swiftly added, "I'm calling from the Forum. Seems like we're stuck in here. The large one, close by the main entrance."
"Uh-huh. How many are you?"
"Four. Two grownups and two toddlers."
"Right." A tapping sound followed. Like someone typing on a computer. "Don't worry. We'll send someone down as fast as we can, lady."
And the line disconnected before she could say neither "great" nor "thank you".
In the short span of time that Effie's attention was elsewhere, the young beautician had backed herself into a corner.
Bag at her feet. Palms sprawled back against the cool surface of the walls, Octavia's chest heaved. Fast. Way too fast. Nothing but short, sharp gasps. Catch-breaths.
"We will die in here!" she squeaked, so worked up the whites of her eyes showed. Eyes like a horse when a snake slithered across the sand. "Who's going to feed my mice if I die in here?!"
"No." Effie shook her head, hands up in a calming gesture. "No, dear. No one will die here today."
But the words fell on deaf ears.
"They've sealed us in like a tomb! Just like Thirteen when they dropped those bombs on us! The air … I can't breathe!"
Ian squirmed by all the commotion and from the stroller came a piteous whimper.
Hand against the handle of the stroller, Effie bounced him, face still toward Octavia.
"It's going to be OK", she said, voice as tender as if she'd spoken to Amy or Ian. "Follow my finger. Do you see that?" She pointed high on the wall. "Vents", she said. "That's where the air comes in. All the time. Doesn't matter if the elevator is operating or not. These things are built for emergencies. You're safe here. Safe as can be."
"That's what they said about Thirteen!" Octavia gasped. "And they shackled us up. They beat us and they left us! They left us!"
Effie bounced the stroller. At a loss. Four seconds passed. Five. Her mother heart wanted to just wrap her arms around her. Hold her tight.
But she didn't want to corner the girl. Frighten her more than she already was.
Her gaze dropped to the beautician's bag.
"I really like the new lipstick", she blurted.
Octavia stopped, mid-breath. The brown of her irises little more than pinpoints.
"W-what?"
"The tube of lipstick you just bought", Effie continued, encouraged by the way in. Slim as it may be. "Such a lovely shade! I wish I could remember what it's called. Peach? Um, apricot?"
"Mother of pearl?"
"Exactly!" Effie beamed. "I bet you have lots of gorgeous lipsticks and lip glosses at home. What are they?"
"What are what? I … I don't know what you mean?"
"The colors. Which are your favorites?"
"I … I don't …" Confused, scattered, her eyebrows came together. Cheeks still hectic, breathing still shallow. "Azure?" she said. "One's azure."
"That's nice. What else?"
"E-eggplant." She stumbled a little on the word, but her voice was growing stronger. "And … mustard: the perfect middle way between yellow and orange. Cinnamon of course. And magenta. I like magenta."
"Me too." She dared reach out her hands now. The girl's palms were slick with sweat. They trembled. Just like Haymitch's might, coming out of a nightmare.
Effie gave them a soft squeeze.
"You're going to be OK. I promise. Try and take a big breath. You'll feel better. A big, deep breath, like this. In … and … out …"
They did it together, hand in hand. Octavia's eyes hung on to Effie's, all throughout. Like a child not quite believing it but trusting you enough to follow suit.
"Good. That's perfect. And again. Breathe in …"
Four breaths later, the beautician had visibly calmed. Eyes heavy-lidded. Hands slack and still.
"I feel a little bit better now", she said. Voice small but steadier.
"So glad to hear it", Effie said. "Why don't we have a seat, you and me? While we wait for them to come get us?"
Octavia's eyes immediately went to the floor. Her nose crinkled.
"It's filthy", she said. "I can't sit where it's filthy."
So, Effie crouched by the stroller. Reach inside the storage basket between the wheels where she kept things like toys, food and the picnic rug.
She spread the latter over an empty spot. The pretty checkers facing up.
It wasn't until they were already seated, sitting opposite each other, that Octavia's eyes flitted back to the twins. As if now first remembering that they were there.
A shadow clouded her face, by the sight of their chubby legs sticking out from the stroller.
No, it was more than a shadow.
Wariness. A watchfulness so unlike her. Almost like … fear.
"Why don't you tell me what's the matter?" Effie said. "It's just us here."
Octavia's eyes fluttered her way, then down. She fidgeted with the hem of her orange dress; lights reflecting off her long, painted fingernails. She mumbled something.
"What?" Effie said. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."
"It's dangerous", the girl repeated. A little louder this time. "They're dangerous."
"Who?" Effie glanced to the stroller. "The twins?"
Octavia nodded.
"They're one year old", said Effie softly. "How can they be dangerous? They're just children."
"But they're not", whispered Octavia. "They're no ordinary children. They're cuckoo chicks."
Effie was quiet. Absorbing this new piece of information.
"What are you saying?"
Octavia drew a deep breath. Spoke to her hands still, but she spoke.
Now, Octavia was no wall flower. Neither of the preps were. Effie had heard her speak from the heart plenty of times. Many dinners. Many train rides across the country.
Things that excited her. Fixer-uppers like Haymitch Abernathy or, for that matter, Katniss Everdeen. Their wells of latent potential – if only they would remember to bring a bucket.
Or her pet mice. She could talk about them for hours. How smart and funny and affectionate they were.
"And so different from each other!" she'd beam, eyes brimming with pride. "They have such distinguished personalities. All of them!"
Things that didn't excite her. Like bodily odors, body hair or an especially anti-climactic party.
Yes. Octavia had opinions. Same as everyone.
But this … this was different.
The more she spoke, the more she sounded like – not a woman convinced, but a child reciting something in class.
A passage in a textbook, learnt by heart because someone told you to.
"The cuckoo birds are parasites", Octavia said. "They look innocent enough. Soft and gray with a cute sound. Cou-cou! But at the core, they're tricksters. Charlatans. Frauds who prey on others. Uses them for their own benefits.
Like the little reed warbler. She builds her nest, lays her eggs and what happens? The moment she's elsewhere, the cuckoo bird arrives. Not to steal. Not to eat. No. She has only one thing on her mind. One plan: to lay an egg of her own.
She sneaks it in, hides it among the others. Just like her mother did and her mother before her. Not a single cuckoo bird has ever cared for their own young. They just make other birds do it for them.
When mama warbler returns, ready to sit on her eggs again, warming them so that they may grow and hatch – she doesn't realize she's been duped. That there are now four eggs in her nest instead of three. She simply can't tell the difference between her own babies and the killer among them.
Because they are killers. From the moment they crawl out of their egg. It's in their genes. Their DNA. Natural born killers.
Every time the mother flies off, looking for food, the cuckoo chick seizes the chance. This blind and weak, featherless little newborn now wiggles and squirms about the other eggs. Dead set on getting rid of the competition. Because she won't share. Not the cuckoo bird. Not ever.
She tries again and again and she won't stop until she's forced all the other eggs over the edge of the nest.
Her own siblings. They plummet to their death and the mother … she doesn't even understand what's happened. Let alone who to blame.
She cares and nurtures and protects her children's murderer, thinking it's her baby. Someone just like herself, who will carry on her legacy.
But it's not. And they won't.
This poor mother, she feeds her and feeds her and feeds her but it's never enough. And the chick grows bigger. And bigger.
In just a couple of weeks she's almost four times the size of her foster parent. So large that the nest may even break apart from under her.
Even after she's left her birthplace, old enough to care for herself, she still demands to be fed. And come Spring, she too will fly over the high grasses, the trees, looking for a nest to lay her egg in."
Octavia paused. Maybe to catch her breath.
"That's what's happening right now", she said. "All around us. Imposters, usurpers, are hatching left and right. Now that the borders are open, people from all around the country travels here and for one purpose and one purpose only.
To breed. District women sleep with clueless Capitol men and return home with babies in their bellies. District men seduce Capitol women with false promises of love and devotion, all so that they will carry and birth their offspring.
There's a war coming, and they're creating an army. Programmed to destroy us. Every man, woman and child who carries a Capitol pedigree. That's their plan, their dying wish, and before we realize it, what they are capable of, it'll be too late. Unless we do something. And fast.
We must throw them out, before they throw us out. We were here first and unless we close the borders – once and for all – with the biggest chains we can find, they will sack this city for themselves. They'll torture us. Enslave us. Kill us.
Especially those of us who … who worked in the Games. Because they'll never let us forget what we did to them. To their forefathers. And this new generation of people … they're all so much more dangerous than any of us alive.
Because they have the wits and brains of the Capitol but the black hearts of the districts."
It was very quiet, once Octavia finished. A lot to take in.
Finally, Effie wet her lips. Had to ask the question, despite being quite certain she already knew the answer.
"Who told you that?"
"Gloria Highgrass", Octavia said.
Effie nodded. Of course. She should have known. Who else could create such a massive pile of hot, stinking garbage? As Haymitch would have said.
"Gloria says what she does because she's deeply unhappy", Effie said. "She wants someone to blame for her own misfortune and it's a million times easier to just be furious than heartbroken.
But she makes things up, Octavia. She lies. The girl hasn't set foot outside this city. Not once. I don't think she's ever even had a real conversation with someone born in the districts."
She reached her hands out. Curled her ringless fingers over Octavia's green, adorned ones.
"Let's just think about this for a moment", she said. "Like the sensible women we are."
Two years ago. Well, almost two years, when the roundness of her belly left no space for further speculation, people had acted like fishermen around a sinking ship. Rowing their boats as far away as possible, so as not to go down with it.
The Peaseblossoms. Flora. Mrs. Q.
But Katniss's prep team? After all their years together. After everything that happened. The revolution. The war. She was certain they'd stay. Certain. Octavia, Flavius and Venia wouldn't stand idly by, while the wolfs tore her apart.
So, when they deserted her. When they joined the masses against her, just by staying quiet – it hurt. Hurt more than she could possibly imagine.
They may not spit or throw rocks or even slander her with rumors, as far as she knew, but in a way, them putting their head in the sand was all so much worse than anything the others did or said.
So, when she told Haymitch she couldn't get through to them – not like Cinna – that wasn't altogether true.
Not a lie per se, or if it was: she lied to herself as well.
She just didn't want to. That was the plain, unpainted truth. Couldn't deal with any of it. All that painful stuff. Not then. Post-partum. Still healing. With two babies so new, the carton of eggs in her fridge (bought before their birth) was still fresh.
But sitting with Octavia today. Right here. Right now. How different was it really, from sitting in a ring in class, talking with her students? Girls who had also been spoon-fed "facts", based on people's fear and ignorance.
She squeezed her friend's hands.
"Come", she said, with a nod toward the stroller. "Come say hello to my two little 'warriors' in here."
Octavia paled.
"I … I don't want to."
"Please. I promise you, it's going to be alright."
Standing on her knees, Effie carefully brushed the edges of the mosquito net aside. Revealing their sleep-soft faces.
Half-hidden by Effie's shoulder, Octavia peered at them. Still cautious. Still watchful. But at least she did it.
"Don't worry, they won't bite", Effie said. "Well", she added with a smile. "They might, but they hardly got any teeth yet so it's mostly just wet and sloppy."
She brushed a strand from her daughter's forehead.
"Their names are Amy and Ian", she said. "But I suppose you already know that. They just celebrated their first birthday, about a week ago. Back in Eleven. Lots of chocolate cake. Before the day was out, they were all but covered in it. Same as I was, a couple of years prior. As you've probably heard by now?"
"Naturally", murmured Octavia, eyes locked on the twins. Like they were a couple of sharp-teethed dogs that might yet strike at any given moment. "It was all over town."
"Yes", Effie said. "Naturally." Little crow's feet appeared by her eyes when she smiled. "They carry both our names", she said. "Trinket Abernathy. They haven't said their first proper words yet, but they're really getting the hang of crawling.
If I want to get anything done now, I must put them in the playpen or else they'll shoot across the floor and not always in the same direction. Before I know it, they'll figure out how to pull themselves to standing and it's: goodbye potted plants."
Octavia didn't respond. Tense and awkward. A little crease between her elegant, plucked eyebrows.
"They love playing with letter blocks", Effie continued. "Or when we blow raspberries on their bellies. They love bathing, peekaboo, dada playing them songs on the piano. They're exploring their world, little at a time, and they do it without hate in their hearts."
She hesitated.
"It is true", she said, softly. "People on 'opposite sides' have procreated since the end of the war. Children with a Capitol father and a district mother and vice versa.
But I promise you, it's not for the reason Gloria has you believe. It's all just a natural consequence of peace. Of the way we people function. For the first time in forever we can travel around the country safely. Free to get to know people outside our own birthplace if we want to. Friendship and even love … they are bound to grow in such a soil.
If you read some of Haymitch's history books, you'd find it's actually quite common. Even in the middle of bitter conflicts, bloody wars that last for decades, people have a way of finding each other, finding common grounds, no matter what. Despite the fact that they're supposed to be mortal enemies."
She caressed Octavia's hair and down her back.
"You're so much wiser than Gloria", she said. "And unlike her, you have friends from the districts. Think about the people you know. Katniss for instance. Does she have a black heart?"
Octavia's brow furrowed. She shook her head.
"Of course not", she said. "She saved us. After the people of Thirteen imprisoned us, Katniss got us out of there."
"But she's from the districts, isn't she?"
"Yes. I mean, um …" Octavia wavered. "Yes, but … not when it counts."
"How about Peeta? What can you say about his heart? Is it black?"
"Oh no", Octavia said in a hushed voice. "Not Peeta. Peeta's heart could never be black. It's full of all the colors. Just like his paintings."
"Well, that leaves Haymitch", Effie shrugged. "If anyone's got a black heart, it's him."
"How can you say that?" Octavia's eyes welled up with tears. "You wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for him! How can you say something like that? And in front of them", she whispered, pointing to the twins.
"But he's district", said Effie. "All three of them are. Same as Primrose. And Posy. Their species is so evil, they pass their bloodthirst down through their genes."
"M-maybe not all of them", Octavia said. Uncertain. "Some are different. Katniss and Peeta and Haymitch … they're different."
"But are they?" asked Effie. "Are they really? Or can it be that you just know them better than you did the other tributes?"
Octavia's eyebrows came together, trying to make sense of it.
"If there's anything I've learned these past few years", Effie said, "it's that we really aren't that different. Not at the core. Capitol. District. You'd be surprised how much we have in common.
Sure, there are always people who will behave like asses. Every group has them. I can't speak for everyone but this I know: When I was at the bottom, my absolute lowest, people were there for me. And some were from the Capitol and some were from the districts."
Octavia's eyes found the floor.
"It's alright", said Effie and she meant it. "But just think about it. Really think about it. If you met a man. A sweet, kind, thrilling man that you had a really great time with. Someone who made you laugh. Made your heart flutter.
A man who thought you were hands down the best, most wonderful girl in the world. Who never failed to make you feel special. Loved. Would you really care where he came from? If he was district, would it matter?"
Misty-eyed, Octavia didn't reply. She brushed the edge of Amy's footrest with an absent-minded finger.
"We didn't have the twins as part of some greater scheme or plot", Effie said. "Neither did Lysistrata Vicker's grandson or his wife.
We never even planned it. I got pregnant simply because Haymitch and I made love, followed by a birth control mishap.
That's all. And I'm so glad we did! Because I cannot imagine my life without them. Neither can Haymitch. It's not about vengeance, Octavia. It's about love."
All throughout, Effie had kept her voice low – so as not to wake the two in the stroller. And she didn't.
It was the silence that drew a reaction.
Ian stirred again. Stretched his little body as far as the seat allowed. From Octavia came another gasp, but it sounded more like being taken unaware than frightened. As if nervous, he might ask why she saw fit to break his slumber.
The boy blinked at them. No cries or rages. His gray eyes just moved between Octavia and Effie.
A gurgling sound came over his lips, and he reached for mama.
Effie clicked him loose and lifted him out.
"Hi handsome", she said and kissed his cheek. "Did you enjoy your nap?"
She settled the boy on her lap and Ian's face turned swiftly to the other grownup in the room.
"Buh?" he asked his mother, questioningly. Pointed his finger out, as always when something piqued his interest.
Effie kissed his strawberry hair.
"Ian … I'd like you to meet my very good friend, Ms Octavia Haze."
Octavia's lips curved into a nervous smile. She gave a small wave of her hand.
"Hello", she said. "Nice to meet you." Her eyes met Effie's. "Goodness. He looks just like Haymitch, doesn't he?"
Effie smiled.
"He does. So does his sister. Especially when they're laughing. They have Haymitch's smile."
"Haymitch laughs and smiles?"
The question pinched her heart, but she nodded.
"Much more than he used to."
Octavia's gaze returned to the child. You could still trace a slight vigilance in her manners, but it was quickly melting.
"He … he doesn't look dangerous. I mean, as far as I can tell. And I'm a great judge of character. Says Venia."
"No, he's not dangerous at all."
"Gloria doesn't know everything in the world."
"No."
Ian cooed. As if to second that.
Octavia's eyes softened.
"Such a little jellybean, aren't you?" she said. "Little guy."
"Would you like to hold him?" Effie asked.
"Oh", said Octavia, startled. "Well, I … OK. Yes."
Effie helped the child over and soon the boy had settled on Octavia's lap.
Ian wasted no time. With the bold, self-righteous hand of a toddler he grasped for her nose, her cheek.
"Oh!" Octavia gave a chuckle, somewhere between amused and alarmed. "What's he doing?" she asked as he poked and kneaded her.
Effie grinned.
"Sorry." She reached out, lowered Ian's hands from Octavia's face. "Got to be careful, sweetheart. Play nicely. I think he likes the green of your skin", she said.
Octavia's face brightened.
"He thinks I'm pretty?"
"You're always pretty", smiled Effie. "We tried our hands at finger painting a few months back", she explained. "He was over the moon. And then there are the shiny things", she added, when Ian grasped for Octavia's earring next, nudging the pretty gemstones with his fingertips. "Haymitch says he was probably a magpie in a previous life."
Octavia giggled. She gently removed the boy's hand from her ear, but she didn't let go.
"Well", she said. "Let me just tell you, Ian: You have great, innate taste! This shade is called emerald green. I get it done at Aphrodite's Beauty Spa. She is pricy but she's the best in town. Well, until the day Flavius and Venia and I have included it in our services, of course. But, I don't think", she added, unsure, "I don't believe you're allowed to get a full body tan if you're just one year old. I can ask for you, if you want?"
Effie gave a brilliant laugh. Octavia looked up, surprised, then allowed herself a small smile.
"You hungry?" asked Effie. "I brought some for the park but since it seems we're going to be stuck in here for a while … I've got pasta salad. Banana muffins. Some yoghurt with mashed blueberries. It's not homemade but …"
"Yes please", beamed Octavia.
When the repairman finally arrived to get them all out, Octavia sat with both twins on her lap.
It was with near reluctance she returned them to their mother.
Free as birds, the four of them headed for the main entrance together.
"I have to be at the salon", Octavia said, once outside. The sun glinted in the purple of her hair. "Flavius and Venia are probably worried sick."
"I get it", said Effie. "Tell them I said hi."
They kissed on both cheeks.
"If you ever feel like a visit", Effie added, "you're more than welcome to come over by the house. Any time."
Octavia nodded eagerly.
"I will."
Author's note: I wish I could tell you I came up with the cuckoo bird metaphor myself but that's actually from the 2016 movie version of "The Jungle Book". The chapter words are all mine but I drew inspiration from one of their scenes that start with: "But the one you have to watch out for is the cuckoo bird. Do you know how the cuckoo bird survives? By preying on a mother's weakness."
As a writer, I thought it was an absolutely brilliant way to manipulate someone younger and/or more trusting and so I wrote my own take on the idea, putting Octavia in the role of the wolf pups and Gloria as Shere Khan. ;)
Lastly, this chapter would not have come to fruition if it weren't for a comment I received, about a year ago. I won't put the reader's name on here in case she (you) doesn't want me to but I'd still like to talk a little about the power of feedback.
This reader had a hard time seeing that sweet, loving Octavia (and the rest of the prep team) would treat Effie so poorly. Octavia's heart is just too big for all that and either way, it would instantly melt as soon as she saw the twins in person.
Now, I always planned for the prep to change their minds about Effie and the kids but: much further into the story. Near the end. I hoped that Effie's comments that someone unknown was manipulating them and "pouring poison into their ears" would be enough of an explanation until then but then I read this review and thought "Hm, maybe not. Maybe some more background info is needed."
So then it was back to the drawing board, fleshing out new ideas cause I love Octavia's character so much and HATE the idea of her coming of as cold or shallow or, for that matter, OOC.
This elevator scene came to mind and with it, several others that also included the prep.
So, thank you for the feedback! Now, instead of just two more prep team scenes at the end of ToS you get at least half a dozen chapters, several of them starting now. I hope you'll like them!