Despite the transmission having ended, I still can't shake the eerie feeling that I'm being watched. There must be cameras of some sort in the room, and I realize that's the only way that he must have been able to see me through the screen. I try to see where they might be. If I were a Capitol engineer, or even President Snow, where would I place a camera so it wouldn't be seen? I look around the room. Maybe there's one in the bookshelf, or the lamp on the small corner table. Maybe there's one hidden in the chair behind the desk.
But I'm not left with much time to scrutinize the room for possible hidden surveillance. Time for visiting must be over, since the Peacekeepers open the door to the room and let me leave. They escort me further into the Justice Building, and I figure that we must be leaving through the back entrance. My mind wanders to what must be happening in the square. I wonder if anyone is celebrating.
Usually, after reaping day, there's a grim cheeriness that seeps through the district. Most of the families are relieved, and celebrate the safety of their loved ones. Some, those whose children have been reaped, shut themselves away. It's a guilty feeling, to be relieved that your child or sibling hasn't been chosen. But there's a joy that comes with it all the same. It's times like this that they'll let themselves spend more than usual on luxuries like clothes and food. But never for those of us in the Community Home.
The Community Home is the place in the district where most of us who are Orphaned or Abandoned end up. My only memories of it are of how cruel it was, how uncaring those in charge of us were. I almost would have wished for them to be less present, more absentminded in their guardianship. But no, somehow - despite being paid by the Capitol to watch over us - they seemed angry at us for our circumstances. Some of those who were less fortunate would wind up with angry red marks and bruises along their arms. The punishment for saying the wrong thing in front of the Guardians, or making it back to the home too late after curfew. Living there taught me how to lie honestly, to use the truth to cover for falsehoods. I learned to read people, to look deeper than the surface and make out what they must be thinking. It helped me to avoid the bruises and the beatings that the others got. In a way, I'm grateful for it.
I continue to think about the community home, and all the other things about district 12 that I'll likely never lay my eyes upon again as I make my way out the back of the Justice Building. Effie is standing beside Katniss and Peeta, their expressions almost in a complete contrast to one another. Katniss has the same stiffly determined expression that she's been wearing practically since she volunteered for Prim. She must be full of all sorts of emotions, but I know her, she won't let them show, not to anyone else. Certainly not where the Capitol might be able to see them. Peeta on the other hand seems to be wearing his emotions on his sleeve. His face is red and puffy and his eyes have a dampness underneath them as if he's been crying. It seems like he might cry again at any moment. A thought crosses my mind, just for a second, that maybe he's emoting so freely in order to garner sympathy. Like he's already playing the game, trying to win the hearts of the Capitol Citizens straight out of the gate. But I banish the thoughts when they come to me, I know Peeta better than to think such things.
Effie however has quite the joyous expression on her face as I approach the three of them, and the car they're standing beside. She's chattering about how thrilled she is to have such an exciting turn of events, and how honored she is to have been bestowed the task of picking a Capitol Tribute. She says the word 'Capitol' like it carries some sort of special meaning. I wonder if anyone from the Capitol would offer themselves up to participate in the Hunger Games, and wrestle the idea around in my mind for a moment as the four of us squeeze into the back of the tiny car that doesn't seem like it was designed to seat three people, let alone four. Part of me wonders if the Capitol would train just like Districts One and Two, and Volunteer for glory, or if they'd be just as scared of the whole thing as the rest of us are.
Peeta and Katniss both stare out of their respective windows, and I - lacking any window of my own to stare dramatically out of seeing as I'm sandwiched next to Effie in the middle - decide to gaze out the front. My eye catches a glint from the distance, and I notice a small corner with a gleaming, half broken mirror. I know that corner well, it's where I went the first and only time I was hit while I resided in the Community Home.
It's still fresh in my mind, the memory of a summer long ago. I was still young, couldn't have been more than eight years old. The day was gray and dull, it had been raining for nearly a week. I had been friends with Katniss for a few years by that point, and we'd walk together towards her house in order to take the extra time to chat. I must have been friends with Peeta by that point too, though the length of time escapes my recollection. We'd lost track of time that day though, and I'd realized too late that I should have been back at the Community Home long ago. Worried, I rejected Katniss's offer to shelter in her house for a while, at least until the rain stopped.
"I'm sure your parents won't mind, will they?" She'd asked in a sort of naïve tone that only children seem to use. One of optimism.
See, none of the kids at school seemed to know which of us didn't have parents - or maybe they assumed that all of us with the last name Fairchild simply belonged to one very large family. Kids don't really pay attention to such things.
In hindsight, I'd left rather rudely, without uttering even a goodbye. I'd rushed all the way to the Community Home in the pouring rain, and returned sopping wet through the window of the girls' dormitories. I was caught nearly instantaneously of course. And no excuse, no matter how truthful, would get me out of the beating I knew was yet to come. I'd been so careless that day, after years of being so careful. And there would be no aid from my housemates, I knew this much as I was unceremoniously dragged through the halls whilst being screamed at for my insolence. I'd witnessed scenes like this hundreds of times, but from the outside. This time I was getting a first hand view of what it was like. I knew I couldn't get any help from anyone other than myself, and after the first sting of pain upon my cheek, I bolted. My body had seemed to move on its own, and somehow, miraculously, I managed to avoid the other guardians.
I found myself outside, back in the rain, the cold seeping its way into my bones. I could hear shouts, and knew that they had to be chasing me, there was no way they wouldn't. As their responsibility, it was a terrible look if suddenly I was missing. But I was never going back there, even if I had to beg and starve on the streets, I was resolved to do so. Anything was better than returning to that soulless and hellish place.
But my fate, as it would be, was not to starve and wither away in that corner. Like a small flame in the darkness, I saw a girl emerge through the rain. Her hair was glued to her face, and her clothes were weighed down with mud and rainwater, clinging to her sides as she ran towards me. As it would turn out, Katniss had been worried enough by my exit, and determined in her own courageous way, that she'd followed me. Upon seeing me escaping the Community Home - and likely having heard the ruckus coming from inside - she'd followed me then too. Soaking wet and shivering in the rain, she had demanded that I tell her what happened. She seemed to come to the same conclusion I had, that it was best if I never went back.
"I'd rather starve too, than return to a place like that." Her words were.
For a time after that, I stayed with her family in their home. She had insisted upon nothing less, and Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen were more than sympathetic. I've been in her debt ever since. It's because of her that they took me in, clothed me and fed me even though they had two extra mouths to feed already. It was because of her that her father taught me how to survive on my own, and eventually he showed me a small house which had been abandoned on the outskirts of the seam. Whomever had lived there last had no next of kin, and it was devoid of all people.
"The perfect homestead for a runaway." He'd said, gesturing to the simple furnishings of the home.
And it was. I'd spent the rest of my years fixing up the place, keeping the water running in the pipes. I made it look like a true home, in all the ways I could, and devoted myself to helping Katniss. She saved my life that day, and I'm sure she knows it too. It's a debt I'll be trying to repay for as long as I'm alive. Unspoken, and unacknowledged, it looms over me always, like a cloud sheltering me from the sun on a scorching summer's day.
The car door opens, and the memory fades from my mind. It would appear that we've arrived at the train station, where more cameras seem to be awaiting us. It's a curious thing, how much they document about our journey. Most of what they film won't even be used during the final cut unless one of us wins. But nevertheless, Effie gathers the three of us together and urges us to smile for the cameras, since we want to put our best foot forward before we arrive to the Capitol. They're broadcasting it live, I realise. The Capitol Citizens are almost definitely going to be watching us at this very moment, commenting on how we look and who they'll place their bets on. I glance over at Peeta, whose puffy red eyes look like they're beginning to brim with tears again, and a wave of pity washes over me. The people of the Capitol must feel the same, I think. This could work well for Peeta, maybe gain him a sponsor or two as the sweet boy from District 12. When I glance over at Katniss, I see her face is hardened with a steely resolve. Though her face gives nothing away of how she feels, her eyes are alight, filled with determination, and I can tell her mind is working a million miles a minute. This could hurt her, in the long run, I think. She's so closed off with her emotions, that to most people she's almost unreadable. They won't be able to connect with her like this, and it worries me mildly.
I wonder what I look like, from the camera's point of view. What face will the Capitol audiences see broadcasted upon their screens at this very moment? The fear I've tamed into the back corner of my mind claws at the cage I've put it in, and sends a chill through me. I take a deep breath, and try to calm myself, hoping that the small smile I've tried to muster up looks more real than it feels.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of standing together in front of the camera, Effie rushes us onto the train. It's nothing like I've ever imagined. They never film this part, and standing inside of the train car I couldn't tell you why. It's probably the most luxurious thing I've ever seen. The walls are covered in a smooth, patterned wallpaper that would cost more than I've ever heard of even the merchants making in a year. Ornate decorations litter the train car, from the embroidered cushions of the chairs, to the detailed carvings on the tables, it's breathtaking.
There's an enormous table which is covered in all sorts of foods that smell like heaven, and I realize I've hardly eaten anything all day. Just looking at the food causes my stomach to growl, even though I can't make out what any of it is supposed to be. It's all very tiny, and part of me wonders if the people in the Capitol put their food in small portions in order to pretend that they're just as hungry as we are. But I doubt that they've experienced much hunger since the dark days, judging by the amount of food that's just strewn across the tables. It's more food than I've ever seen in my life. Aside from on TV of course. The's fruits in colors and varieties the likes of which I've never seen before, and little sandwiches that are filled with more ingredients than I'd ever imagined they could be filled with. It's almost overwhelming in a way, like you could get full just by staring at the display of foods for too long. It's dizzying.
Effie Trinket on the other hand seems unamused, and uninterested in the table. It's like she feels that it's beneath her, not up to her standards - and I'm sure that I hear her muttering something about how someone got her order wrong under her breath. It fills me with a mild envy, and distaste. What a life she must have, free from strife and issue, to make something so magnificent as this feel boring. She instructs us to stay where we are, as she'll escort each of us to the rooms we'll be staying in while we're on the train. She takes Katniss back first, leaving Peeta and I to ourselves. He looks less startled than before, more in awe now than anything.
"I've never seen food like this in my whole life." I say, trying to break the silence of the room.
"I know…" Peeta trails off, deep in thought for a moment. "It's almost wasteful."
Now it's my turn to peer off in thought. He's got a point. We send nearly all our resources to the Capitol, every district does. It leaves us with hardly anything left for ourselves. A whole deer has to be portioned to last us weeks, and the most I've ever eaten was two squirrels in one sitting. But that was a special occasion, and it only happened once. In contrast to our meager means, the people in the Capitol have more than enough food. So much so that they're willing to throw it onto a table in an almost vulgar display. Where it'll be picked over by maybe one or two of us, when it could feed the whole District.
"You're right." I say.
But our conversation is cut short by Effie's return. She escorts Peeta to his room, and leaves me alone for a moment with my thoughts. Alone, I'm truly able to take in the sheer vibrancy of the room. It's not full of the muted and withered tones that we have in the districts. It's so bright and full of color that it makes me question if I've ever experienced real color before. It puts into perspective why Effie must think we're so dull and uninteresting. Even in our best, brightest and most vibrantly colored clothes we must seem awfully gray compared to what she's used to. Maybe that's why she wishes she was given a 'better' district to escort. Some districts like One and Two are wealthier. They're the Capitol's favorites. That affords them certain luxuries the likes of which we've never even dreamed of seeing in twelve. She's stated more than once that she aspires to one day escort tributes from One. They're 'much more exciting' as she says. Speaking of Effie, she's not gone long - Peeta's room must be closer to this car than Katniss's was.
"Here we are," She says, opening a sleek metal door in the new train car we've entered. "This is your room."
We enter a vast room, and I'm stunned at how much space there is in the train car. The room itself is almost as large as an average home in District 12, and it's more luxurious by far. Looking around, I'm once again struck by how vastly different lives we live to those in the Capitol. Here, in a mere train car, sits more wealth and decoration than I've ever even dreamed of seeing. There's a bed which spans the width of three regular beds, which is decorated with what seems like a mountain of pillows and blankets. There's a wardrobe in the corner, decorated with the same ornate carvings as so many things I've seen today, and I wonder if there's anything in it, or if it's empty and purely there for show. A large mirror sits beside it, and I try to think about how many times it's been used. My eye catches something on the wall. It looks like a screen, almost like a smaller version of the ugly flat thing they mount on the Justice Building.
"Wow," I feel breathless, like so much of my energy is being absorbed just by looking at the room that I've forgotten what it is to breathe. "I've never seen anything like this."
Effie seems almost shocked at this statement. It's evident that while she can't relate to the sentiment, it seems to have changed something in her expression. I can't quite put my finger on what it is though.
"I'll collect you later for dinner, I suggest you wash up before then." She says, and then leaves.
I find that the wardrobe is full of clothes - all of them brand new from the looks of them - and settle on a light pink dress that feels so silken and soft, it's what I imagine touching a cloud to feel like. The bathroom is just as grand and lush as I've found the rest of the train to be, and the water is so warm that I fight the urge to fill the bath entirely and stay there for the rest of the train ride to the Capitol. But the grumbling in my stomach has returned, and reminds me of more pressing matters.
It's hard to tell how much time has passed when I slink out of my room and into the hallway, but it must have been more than I originally thought. Katniss and Effie are walking towards me, with Katniss having changed into a pretty outfit that suits her well. I notice something on her shirt, a golden pin. It looks almost like a mockingjay encased in a ring of gold. It's pretty, but it must be new as I've never seen it. Outside, I glance at the scenery which is passing us by so quickly that it's almost a blur. Over 200 miles an hour, I once heard someone say, but it feels faster than that to me.
"We were just about to come get you." Effie says once they've reached me. "Come now, we don't want to be late for dinner now do we."
Katniss and I fall into line behind her, walking next to each other as we follow Effie through beautiful train car after beautiful train car. I wonder how long the train is, how many cars make up this vessel that's only carrying five or six passengers at most. How many cars does one really need?
"I like your pin." I say to Katniss. It's the first time we've really spoken to each other since the reaping.
"Thanks." She says, looking down at it briefly, "Madge insisted on giving it to me."
I nod, and we resume our previous silence as we pass through five or so train cars which all look nearly identical to one another. Finally, we reach a new car, with a new table. This one is different from the first one we saw, it's smaller and doesn't span as much of the car as the other did. Peeta - who evidently must have also cleaned up before leaving his own room - is sitting, waiting for us in one of the chairs.
"Where is Haymitch?" Effie asks, smiling down at Peeta in a half-genuine sort of way.
"He said he was going to take a nap."
"Well, I suppose it has been a rather tiring day." She says with a sigh before sitting down at the table.
I glance at Peeta and Katniss, and the three of us share a rather disbelieving look. But when I sit down, I think a little harder on it, and realize that it must take its mental toll on him. Reaping day has to be hard, not just because of the memories of his own, but because of all the children he must have mentored in the past who didn't make it. Knowing that two more kids are expected to be literally hand-picked for you to send off to slaughter. I wonder if I too would fall down the same path as him if I became a Victor. The constant bid for survival doesn't stop once you leave the arena, you battle it every day.
The meal we're served for dinner is beyond anything I've ever experienced. There's colors and shapes that I've never imagined would go together before - everything looks like a work of art. I can't think of any time I've ever even dreamt of something like this. There's one soup that is so light and delicious that I wonder how I've never tasted anything of the like before. Effie is unaffected by the meal however - while I'm on my fifth bowl of a delicious creamy stew that has chunks of meat in it and what looks to be a stewed vegetable along with potatoes. It makes me think, as the dessert is being brought out, which causes all three of us to stare in awe. If something like this can leave a Capitol citizen unfazed and bored, why don't we see any of this food given back to us? Surely they have enough to spare. The thought leaves an acrid taste in my mouth, and a bitter feeling of resentment that begins to settle in my stomach. I find that I've lost my appetite for dessert, much to my dismay.
If any form of an appetite was thinking of crawling its way back into my stomach, it's quickly shooed away by Effie's comments on how good our table manners are. I can tell it's caught Katniss's attention too, seeing how she's momentarily paused eating. She looks like Dynamite with a lit fuse, as if one wrong word will set her off.
"Especially considering last year's tributes. They were practically animals, they didn't even know how to use a knife and fork!"
Silence fills the car as Katniss, Peeta and I pause and stare at her. Katniss shoots one of the most bone chilling glares I've ever seen her send someone's way, while Peeta simply looks too shocked to react. We knew those kids. They were sweet children. Then in an amazing show of restraint on her part, never breaking eye contact with Effie, Katniss sets her fork and knife onto the table, and begins to eat with her hands.
"What a horrible way to speak about the dead." I remark on that note, pushing my plate away from myself.
Effie opens her mouth as if to speak, but she must have thought better of it since she closes it soon after. Perhaps we've left her speechless, I think. Wouldn't that be something.