Hijacked

Chapter 4

I walk down the large main staircase, taking my time. I stop outside the door to the room where I’m meeting Snow. I could escape, if I ran now, but something tells me that I am locked in the building. I take a deep breath and knock.

“Come in.” Snow says from inside the room.

I push open the door.

“Ah, Peeta, take a seat.” Snow says, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

I sit down and feel extremely thankful for the large oak desk standing between us.

“How has your stay been so far?” Snow asks

“Good, thank you.” I reply “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?” he replies

“Why am I allowed out of my room without a Peacekeeper?”  

Snow smiles, his lip curling up in that way that creeps me out.

“All outer exits are locked, and we trust you, Peeta.”

Okay, that’s a bit of a shock…

“Oh. Thank you.” I say, stunned

Snow leans forward and I fight the urge to push my chair back.

“Tell me about yourself, Peeta. What do you like to do?”

“Urm…well,” I think about it. “I like painting…and baking.”  

“Oh, an artist and a baker!” Snow grins “I’ll remember that.”

This is all so strange. Snow is being nice to me.

“Well, that will be all for today, Peeta. Feel free to wander around on the floor where your room is situated. I shall see you next week.”  Snow says, standing up.

He offers me his hand, and I shake it. Then I push my chair back and leave. I swear, this trip gets stranger and stranger.

I go upstairs to my floor and decide to explore. I push open the first door I see a room with a large TV taking up one whole wall greets me. I don’t want to watch anything so I carry on further down the corridor.

I open another door and enter a room filled with books; on shelves, on tables, in piles on the floor. I pick one up from a pile by the door and turn it over in my hands. It’s rather thick, bound in black, and has big, gold letters on the front.

“Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens.” I read aloud.

I tuck the book under my arm and curl up in a big chair. I open the book and put my head down, poring over the words. After an hour, perhaps more, I close the book and put it on the table beside my chair. It’s a great story, and I know I have to keep reading it.

I go down the corridor to my room. The door is still unlocked and I push it open. I gasp, my mouth dropping open in shock. Inside, in the centre of the room is an easel, a stack of canvas’s and a wooden box. A girl with beautiful ash blonde hair stands by the easel, securing a canvas into place.

“Wow.” I breathe and the girl jumps.

“Sorry.” I say and she smiles slightly.

She comes over to me and hands me a note; ‘Peeta, these are for you. Please produce some beautiful artwork. President Snow.’

“Thank you.” I tell the girl. “What’s your name?”

The girl taps her lips and shakes her head. Oh, she’s an avox.

“Here,” I say, passing her the note from Snow. I go over to the wooden box and rummage through countless tubes of paint for what I need. A pencil. I hand one to the avox girl.  “Write your name.”

She nods and rests on my bedside table. She hands me back the note and heads towards the door.

‘Rita’ the swirly writing on the back of the note says.

I call her now.

“Rita!” I call

She turns around.

“Can I borrow books? From that room down the hall?” she nods and closes the door behind her.