Atlas (A Selection/Hat Films Fanfiction)

~ Forty Two ~

"Goodluck, Atlas!" Luna chimed in just as I was about to leave my room for the Capitol Report.

They had dressed me in a sea green, Victorian style ball gown; it was covered in a rococo embroidery beading down the sleeves, bodice, and tiered skirts. The rein of Queen Victoria was known for the first industrial revolution and was marked by sweeping change and ingenuity. I thought the symbolism would be lost on anyone not familiar with old-world history, but it was still a statement piece. There would be interviews tonight, so I had to look as sophisticated and put together as possible.

"Thanks," I replied weakly, grabbing my clutch before closing the door behind me. I didn't know if they had heard about the rebellion pamphlet, and I assumed they wouldn't make the connection to my lost book, but they were uncharacteristically quiet tonight. Maybe it was the constant barrage of bad news and darken landscape of the future.

I tried not to think about it, and the faint sound of crying that caught my attention as I passed the library was the perfect distraction.

I leaned into the room, taking in the dimly lit scene in front of me. Albany had her head buried into her arms and was softly sobbing into a table. I almost didn't recognize her at first, but she picked her head up when she heard my heels on the marble floor as I entered the library.

"Come to gloat?" she sneered, her mascara smearing down her face. She wiped away the hair that had clung to her tear-stained cheeks and sniffled hard. I was about to turn and leave, not wanting to hear her beratement, but she looked so alone and pathetic that I was willing to brave the insults.

"No," I replied simply, walking over and pulling a chair out across from her.

"Don't you have a Report to go to?" she asked, failing to sound as hostile as she tried to portray, "What do you want?"

"Are you okay?" I asked gently, burying my hands in my skirts so I didn't have to occupy them.

"Of course I'm not okay, you idiot!" she spat, her voice breaking.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I continued, my eyebrows furrowing upward as I tried to sound genuine.

"You wouldn't get it," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away from me in her seat. She was wearing the white blouse and black pants that we had all arrived in, since she was going home tonight once Alex was done with the Report.

"Albany?" I started, looking down at the table before fixing her with an unwavering gaze, "Did you make a single friend here?"

She balked, but as she opened her mouth with a pinched expression on her face, I saw her shoulders slump forward. Albany looked tired and worn down, and she snapped her mouth shut before she lowered her gaze to the table. "I'm not. . . the friend making type. . ." she admitted stiltedly.

"Why?" I asked her softly, "Why have you kept up this aloof superiority act for four months?"

"Oh, like you haven't been pretending to be something you're not this entire time," she barked, narrowing her eyes at me with a threatening shake of her head.

I sighed and stood up. I thought I would give her the benefit of the doubt, considering how immature and petty Alex had been because of his fame and caste. Her snarky remarks were enough to prove her hopeless. I turned, starting towards the exit. I was early to leave for the report, but I would rather wait around in the studio than be insulted by Albany.

"Atlas, wait!" I heard her call, making me stop in my tracks and look back at her.

She seemed to really be struggling with something in her mind, but she eventually blurted out, "I'm sorry. . . for everything. I was a being a bitch, and you were just the only one to call me out on it."