The Capitol's Tribute

Strange, loud music pumped all around me. The sun had long since set and the party was hours in. Even behind a closed door I could feel the room vibrate with the rhythm of the song. I glanced in the mirror, examining myself.

My long white-blonde hair was straight along my back, a few intricate braids wrapped around my head. My stylist and friend, Cinna, had done an amazing job, as always. A golden swirl pattern had been painted along the right side of my face and around my eyes, highlighting my dark brown pupils. The circles under my eyes from nights of glamorous Capitol parties were easily erased with a light coating of make up.

I grabbed a crystal jar off the make up table and quickly pulled off the thin glass lid. Dipping my hand inside, I caught the light, feathery brush. In one swift motion, I patted another layer of the pale powder under my eyes, and around the rest of my face for good measure. This was my party after all, why shouldn’t I look flawless?

Standing up, I smoothed out the breath-taking dress that I had helped design with Cinna. It was dark green and made to look like a leaf. There was a slit up the left side, showing a bit more skin than necessary, and a thick strap on the right. My pale skin was covered in a shimmery sheen. My make up was dark and smoky, giving me a seductive look. Cinna was always trying out new techniques on me and I was happy to be his guinea pig. Everything Cinna did or made was beautiful. I could never go wrong with him.

A large marble door opened up behind me, hitting me with a blast of music and other party noises. A tall, slender fiery redhead was suddenly in my view, lit up by the colorful flashes behind her. Her short, white dress flashed as the colors of the light changed from red to blue to yellow and so on.

“Come on, Rix,” Her deep voice laughed, “You look amazing, no need to hide out!”

“Not hiding, just primping,” I retorted, though I knew she could see I was on edge. And how could I not be when in a few short hours I would be on a train, heading back home to the bleak and depressing District 12. Nothing good was waiting for me there, especially after the Hunger Games the year before when I lost the boy I loved to Katniss: Peeta Mellark, the other victor.

“Honestly, Rixa, get over that lovesick baker’s boy. He’s a loser for choosing that crazy savage over something as gorgeous as you.” The girl recited for the millionth time. Something. There that word was again. Even with my friends I was an item, a product of the Capitol. “Besides, you have nothing to worry about. You’re basically a member of the Capitol. They just put you in the Reaping to humor the others. You’ll never be picked.”

I knew she was right. I would never be picked in the Reaping; that was preposterous. They wouldn’t send a member of the Capitol to the Games. It was unthinkable. But the thought of returning home to the horrid poverty, and the star-crossed lovers, made me sick.

I forced a black lipstick caked smile, “You’re right, Oceilia. I’ll be right out. This is my going away party after all.”

“That’s more like it,” Oceilia grinned back, smacking my butt playfully, “Now, get out there and break some hearts. You’ll be back in the Capitol before you know it!”

Oceilia was right as usual. I needed to get over Peeta. It had been almost a year. He was going to be wed to Katniss pretty soon, after they were done mentoring this year’s Games. He had forgotten about us, it was high time I did too.

“Make this night count. I’m going to have to survive on it until the Reaping is over.” I joked, walking out the door in my high heels. Oceilia followed close behind and it wasn’t long before we were on the dance floor.

It was a huge event. Half of the Capitol had been invited and the other half appeared to have come anyway. Important government officials and young children alike had shown up to see me off. In the five years I had shuttled back and forth between my district and the Capitol, I had made many powerful and important friends. I’d either entertained them with my dancing and singing or seduced them (metaphorically) with my wit and charm. I had even had the pleasure (if you could call it that) of meeting President Snow.

It had been during last year’s Games when I had come to visit, terrified for Peeta’s safety. I hadn’t had the opportunity to say everything I wanted in the short time we’d spent together in the Justice Building in District 12. It was after the interview where Peeta declared his undying love for Katniss. I had run out of the room willing myself not to cry, cameras were surely watching, they were always watching.

President Snow had been watching high in a balcony. He had quietly slipped out as the interviews ended, Peeta being the last. I ended up in a secluded hallway, trembling and sobbing, heartbroken. All I could think was how could Peeta do that to me? To us? Had our whole relationship been a fluke? Did he not love me, ever? He had been with me, because, like his father, he could never be with the girl he truly loved? It was all too much.

“Dear child,” A deep, gravelly voice commented, “What could possibly move a pretty girl like you to this state?”

I started, not noticing his appearance through my ugly sobs. I stifled them immediately, not wanting the president to see me in this state. I brushed my falling tears with the sleeve of my jacket only to have more replace them. My face was probably blotchy and red, not exactly how I pictured meeting President Snow.

Back in District 12, the most powerful and important people we knew were Mayor Undersee and the Head Peacekeeper Cray. I had been in talks with more Capitol people as my trips became more frequent after I dropped out of school, but I never imagined meeting President Snow.

“I’m sorry,” I stood up hurriedly, “I’m so embarrassed, sir. You shouldn’t have to see me in such a state.”

“I believe everyone has the right to a moment of weakness or two.” He said, pulling something out of his pocket: a handkerchief. I took it wearily from his hands, not particularly wanting to use it, to smear my tears and snot all over this expensive piece of cloth. “Go on,” He urged me and I hesitantly oblige.

“Do you know Peeta Mellark?” He asked suddenly and so casually that I hesitated again.

“Yes,” I squeaked.

President Snow nodded. “I see,” Now, he’s making me nervous and I worry that I’m somehow going to get Peeta in trouble. “That was a very surprising announcement he just made, wasn’t it?” Thinking about it made me want to scream, to hit something or someone.

I nodded my blond head, not trusting my voice. President Snow smiled but it only made me uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry for what that silly boy has done, Miss. Hart.” He said nonchalantly, yet threateningly.

I let out a tiny gasp. “You—You know my name?”

He chuckled good naturedly, “Of course I know your name. I’m the reason you’re here in the Capitol. Who do you think signed off on your little agreement?”

I guess I had known he’d signed off on it, the deal that kept my family warm and fed. I would come to the Capitol; entertain its citizens with my beautiful dancing and dazzling personality. I just didn’t think he had any idea who I was or kept tabs on me. It was frightening, really, to know how closely I was being watched….

“Yes, well, I must be going.” He checked his watch but I had the sense that he could care less what the time was. He had come and done what he needed, I was unsure what I had to do with anything on the president’s agenda. “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure that silly baker’s boy won’t make it out of the arena alive.” That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

President Snow smiled again, his full lips puffed out, his white teeth bared horribly. I tried to smile back the best I could, terrified of this man and what he really wanted with me. It obviously wasn’t to console a crying child.

I had seen him more frequently but we had yet to have another conversation like that. I had more or less integrated into Capitol society, not really fitting in District 12 (not that I ever had). I looked exactly like my mother (who had been a Capitol citizen herself until she’d fallen in love with my father). The kids in District 12 mostly had olive toned skin, black hair, and grey eyes. The wealthier families had blonde hair and blue eyes but there weren’t many wealthy, and our wealthy was like poverty to the richer districts. I always stuck out with my almost-white hair, nearly black eyes, and pale skin. Everyone looked different in the Capitol, that’s why I felt more at home there. I didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

As I glanced around the room, there were hundreds of different hair colors, skin colors, and dress styles. Everyone was having a great time. They were at a fun party for a person they adored and the Hunger Games were right around the corner. Life couldn’t be better for them.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and was shocked to see Plutarch Heavensbee. His eyes are almost as dark as mine and his soft hair is neatly slicked back. He’s wearing a handsome suit, per usual. I’ve never seen him in anything but suits. Plutarch smiled genuinely at me.

“Good evening, Rixa Hart. May I have this dance?” I nodded politely as we set off around the dance floor. It wasn't an odd occurrence for people to ask me to dance; it was what I’m here for after all.

“I’ve heard you’ve been promoted to Head Gamemaker, congratulations are in order.” I smiled. He shook his head, chuckling a bit.

“To be honest, there weren't many takers for the job.” I knew what he meant. After what happened at last years Games with Katniss and Peeta both winning, no one had seen or heard from Seneca Crane (the old Head Gamemaker) since. I had heard from Finnick Odair that President Snow was beside himself in rage.

“I think you’ll do a spectacular job,” I said half heartedly, despising the Games. He must know because he doesn’t gush over it like he might have done with anyone else, milking it for all its worth. “Where’s it going to take place this year?” I asked innocently.

Plutarch threw back his head, laughing like he had never heard anything so ridiculous. “You know I can’t reveal such intimate details!”

I shrugged, pouting my lip, “I can keep a secret.” And I could. I knew almost every secret in the Capitol. It was a secretive place.

He pondered this for a moment. At last, he answered, “All I can say is it’s going to be deadly beautiful.” He grinned triumphantly. I nodded politely, mulling that over. I’d have to tell the District 12 tributes that when I get home, at least they’ll have some small advantage.

“Can I cut in?” A familiar sweet voice asked. I glanced over and saw Finnick Odair waiting patiently.

“Oh, but of course!” Plutarch pulled out his golden watch and checked the time. I glanced over at it, examining the exquisite craftsmanship until I see something on the face, a small bird. I’d seen that horrid bird a hundred times in the last year. It was on Katniss’ token: A mocking-jay. “I must be going, official Hunger Games business to attend to. Have a good trip out to District 12 and we can’t wait until you return! Once the tributes have been selected I suppose I can give you more details on the Games this year.” He winked quickly, bowing slightly (a common gesture in the Capitol). I returned it as Finnick stepped in.

“Good luck on the Games this year, Plutarch.” Finnick saluted him, “I hear they’re going to be unforgettable!” Plutarch grinned madly and set off.

Finnick placed a hand on my hip and another in my hand as we set off to do a common Capitol dance. “It’s going to be in some meadow.” Was the first thing he said, knowing I was going to warn my tributes like he will with his.

“How do you always know everything?” I laughed exasperatedly.

“I have my ways.” He answered slyly. I rolled my eyes; he knew how much that sentence irritated me.

I had met Finnick my first year at the Capitol. It was right after my first Reaping and I had been sent to entertain the guests for a Games ceremony. I was nervous—beyond nervous, really. My family was depending on this to work out so we could survive without my father. My siblings were too young to work—and I was, too—but I had a gift and it needed to be used. Finnick had been wandering around, recently escaped from a gaggle of girls who were fawning over him. He was only nineteen, then. I was some shy, terrified eleven year old, waiting to go on and entertain the Capitol. No pressure there.

Finnick came straight up to me and cracked jokes, making me forget my nerves and my family’s hunger. He didn’t have the faintest idea who I was, but he was looking out for me. He reminded me of my eldest brother who had passed away in a then recent accident in the coal mines of District 12. It wasn’t a big accident; he was the only one who died. My father passed away of some terrible illness shortly after. Bad luck, they had called it. But Finnick felt like he was taking my brothers place, filling that fresh hole. My father, however, could never be replaced.

Ever since that night, Finnick and I had each others backs. I knew he was a winning tribute but I never asked him about the Games. Instead, I treated him like he treated me, a normal human being, not some celebrity.

“I spent a little time with Glass Reylidge. She’s got loose lips that one.” Finnick commented casually as we continued to dance around, though, the music had died down.

“I bet she does,” I muttered. Finnick glared playfully. He was a bit of a womanizer, having sex with women like it was nothing. I was a bit more reserved, having done it with only one boy. I felt my throat constricting as my grip on Finnick tightened. He must have noticed something was wrong because he changed the subject of our personal lives before it had really begun. Finnick knew everything about Peeta and I. He knew more than my own brothers and sister knew back home, more than my mother.

“It’s getting near one.” Finnick commented, knowing it was time for me to leave. He had promised to take me to the train. I said my goodbyes to everyone (which took a good half-hour) as they showered me with unnecessary gifts. I promised I’d be back as soon as the Reaping was over and after a long hug from Oceilia and a few other Capitol acquaintances, Finnick and I were on our way to the train.