Disclaimer: I’m just a little girl…no experience in publishing even a short story…J
Percy’s POV (it is still in his POV…if there are mistakes of sudden third person’s POV, then I am sorry…)
The Training Center has a tower, designed exclusively for the tributes and their teams. Personally, I think it’s a luxury prison. Luxury, but still a prison nonetheless. Or should I just call it a barn? Where they keep the animals, fatten them up and then slaughter? Yeah, I think this suits more. We’re the animals, this is barnyard and we’re going to get slaughtered in a few days.
We step into an elevator and I notice there are exactly twelve buttons. Each for a district, I assume. And Effie Trinket presses the number ‘12’ and we shot right up. I glanced at Katniss and am actually surprised to see her looking so giddy. I suppose it is a new thing, riding this elevator. I mean, it’s absolutely nothing like the one back at the Justice Hall, which smells of dampness and sour milk. The walls of this elevator are made of glass so you can see the people turning into ants as you go up. I suppose it is pretty exhilarating.
When we reached our floor, I realized that Effie Trinket’s duties did not conclude at the train station. It seems like she’s stuck with us until the real Games begin. I don’t think we should mind, though. I mean, with her, we can get anywhere on time whereas Haymitch, well, I haven’t seen him since he agreed to help us out. And she knows probably everyone who’s anyone in the Capitol and has been talking up all day, trying to win us sponsors. Maybe having her as a chaperone is a good idea.
“ I’ve been mysterious though,” she says. I nearly laugh seeing her expression with her eyes half squint half shut. “ Because, of course, Haymitch hasn’t bothered to tell me you strategies. But I’ve done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you’ve both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district.”
Barbarism. That’s ironic, coming from a lady who’s preparing us for slaughter.
“ Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, ‘Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turn into pearls!’” Effie beams at us so brilliantly but we have no choice but respond enthusiastically to her cleverness even though it’s wrong. And my muscles are twitching, itching to smile. Grin. Laugh. At her ignorance.
She really doesn’t know anything, huh? Coals don’t turn into pearls. Pearls grow in shellfish. I absolutely wonder what goes on in that head of hers. Her totally obliviousness is somewhat endearing, if not annoying.
“ Unfortunately, I can’t seal the deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that,” she says grimly. “ But don’t worry, I’ll get him to the table at gunpoint if I have too.”
You have to give her that. Her determination really does need to be praised.
My quarters are bigger than the Everdeens’ house. Bigger than the orphanage we used to live in. They’re plush, just like the train car but also have many automatic gadgets that my hands are itching to touch but know that I won’t have the time. The shower alone have nearly hundred of those options that you can choose to regulate the temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils and massaging sponges. When you step out on a mat, heaters come on that blow-dry your body. Sweet…
I poke around the room after my shower, looking for a way to get dressed. Ah, but of course….everything here in the Capitol are merely a button’s away.
As soon I got dressed, there’s a knock on my door and Effie’s voice, calling me to dinner.
Brilliant. I’m starving.
