"𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲?" Snow asked as curiosity coursed through his veins. In the past three months, he had seen her around the Capitol often and wanted to know more as the days passed.
The girl hesitated for a moment before speaking. "𝗖𝗮...
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┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐
Twelve seemed more alive than ever with all the decorations Calista had put around. It was the first time all of them had felt Christmas. Apart from the decoration Calista had taken care of, making this feeling none of them had ever experienced— not even her — real. She had also brought a variety of food to cook; food they had never tasted but she was sure they would love it. It was ironic how successful the role of a thief she had taken, had become. Not only did it improve people's health— as the daily deaths had decreased surprisingly — but also it brought back joy and hope in everyone's faces.
That day, Elena and some other, old people who used to be perfect at cooking helped Calista to cook everything she had taken with her. The turkey with the potatoes had become everyone's new favorite recipe. The sweet syrup above the potatoes and the meat, slid down their throat, leaving its unforgettable mark— like the mark the poverty had left on them. However, the warm atmosphere, the time they had spent all together, and the salty or sweet plates they had tried, were enough to make them forget the real circumstances they truly lived under.
Furthermore, while Calista was going from bench to bench her eyes had spotted a small book with the recipe of a Gingerbread. She had no idea what this was but only by the pictures, it seemed delicious. Small walls, made of biscuit, one leaning to the other and a triangle roof above them, giving it the shape of a house. Snow all over the roof and windows in each wall that were designed with glaze and small pieces of chocolate stuck on it. In the picture— which Calista had been observing carefully — they had used a piece of orange, cut in a semi-oval. Grated, white chocolate was spread carefully in what was supposed to be a garden.
This could easily be our home in another universe, Calista had thought. The child still lived wildly inside of her.
When the man behind the bench was not looking, she had taken the book and gone straight to put all the ingredients in her bag. Making this with Lucas and Christy would be perfect. It was time for Calista to introduce them to the real uniqueness of life. They needed to see the world from another perspective, so they could maintain their hope and young spirit as they grow. Because, at the end of the day when Calista won't be there to help Twelve, they will— and all they need to acquire is hope.
That night the kitchen of the small building they lived under was a mess. Flavor was all over the counter. Calista had given Lucas the blender to combine all the ingredients of the dough, but Lucas only inside the bowl he didn't mix them. She and Christy had laughed so hard at the mess the little boy had made, causing Lucas to stare at them confused; and then he had burst into laughter as well. After cleaning the counter, and throwing the rubbish in the bin, Calista had opened the dough with her hands and cut the necessary shapes for the biscuit house. She had put it carefully into the oven and all of them had waited patiently.
To distract themselves from the agony and the hypnotizing smell that came from right behind them, they had started making the glaze. It was not hard and the teenage girl had let the two siblings mix all the ingredients together and move the spoon in circles making sure they had turned into a single blend. It smelled vanilla and was as white as the snow falling outside, watering the dead ground.
