TO SAY THE LEAST, EFFIE WAS PISSED, HAYMITCH WAS IN A STATE OF ASTONISHMENT AND PRIDE, AND ISAAC COULDN'T FIND HIS JAW ON THE FLOOR.
"Jolene, I can't believe you'd disrespect yourself and us like that! Where is your etiquette?!" Effie scolds.
"Lay off 'er a little, Effie. She said thank you at least," Haymitch argues.
"Yeah, I was thankful for their time. Isn't that etiquette enough?"
Effie scoffs and throws her napkin from her lap to the table, stomping away, flapping her hands about, talking to thin air.
"So. What about you Isaac?" I ask. "Throw something at Highbottom?"
"No, I just, um, started a little fire-"
"That's great, kid. Arson gets their attention. Who's attention would it not get?" Haymitch grins, taking a sip of his whiskey.
"Again, no. They told me I could leave after I put it out," he says sheepishly, his cheeks flaring into a light pink as he pokes at a potato with his fork.
"At least you did something," Haymitch adds, shrugging.
"Yeah. I don't know how to light a fire very well," I agree, tearing a piece of bread with my hands.
"Did I say little fire?" Isaac asks. "I meant, like, a big fire. Yeah, like, a big one. Flames and...stuff!" He boasts, sitting up taller, and laughing nervously.
"That's nice," I tell him, standing up. "I'll let you know if I come across any big fires tonight, Isaac."
As I walk away, I hear Haymitch trying not to piss his pants with laughter mixed with Isaac's groans. I push the door to my room open and immediately rush to my bed, a black guitar with white flowers surrounding its sound hole, the carving dances under my fingers. It's not Mama's, but it sure is pretty.
Heard you like singing :)
-Rowe C.
Oh, hell yeah, I like singing. I pluck the note from under the strings of the wooden baby and lay it on a desk in my room. With a child-like giddiness, I leap on the bed, messing with the cords, tuning it to my usual key, thriving with something so familiar under my fingertips.
Eventually, my eyes beg for slumber. I lay the guitar next to me, burrowing under the covers, looking up at the ceiling as Caesar Flickerman's voice etches its way back into my head, repeating the scores of the tributes. I only paid attention to the ones I allied with and, of course, myself.
Saoirse Picket-5
Mairead Winter-8
Sawyer Gray-4
Isaac Halloran-6
Jolene Iris-10
By the time Haymitch started banging on my door, I released the guitar from my grasp and sat up with a whine, pushing my hair out of my eyes.
"I'm up! Jeez!" I groan, trying to clear the dead sleep out of my throat.
"Duty calls, sweetheart! Get up!" He shouts.
With a huff, I trudge out of the soft vanilla-scented bed, leaving the guitar alone and cleaning myself up.
I meet the rest of my "team" for breakfast and when I say team, I mean the drunk, the escort, and the tribute. Effie talks about her plans with the two of us and how she's going to "clean up" our attitudes while Haymitch will act out what our interviews might look like. Next thing I know I'm in heels, blisters on my toes.
"They're just like your mother's boots, aren't they?" Effie asks, dumbfounded that I can't figure out how to walk in at least six inches of heels.
"No, actually, those are boots with, like, I dunno, maybe a couple inch heel. This is entirely different," I say through gritted teeth, faking a smile. I learned the hard way not to test her by being snarky and impolite.
YOU ARE READING
the ballad of desolation
FanfictionJo Iris is the lead singer of The Bards. She's charming, young, and just has that aura that makes her so entrancing. She's everything the Capitol wants. So when she's reaped with the not-so-charming fourteen-year-old Isaac Halloran for the annual se...
