imperfect fit ; an everlark au based off of 'the selection' series

t e n

I keep my head down at dinner. In the Women's Room, I can be brave because Clove is with me and she just thinks I'm nice. But, at dinner, I can feel the hate radiating off of the other girls. Luckily, I'm sitting close to some nicer people, but everyone else around the table? Death stares. I just want to escape to my room.

I don't understand why it's all so important. So the people seem to like me, so what? They are outranked in here; their little signs and cheers don't matter. After everything is said and done, I don't know whether to be honored or annoyed.

I focus my energy on the food. The last time I'd had steak was for Christmas a few years ago, I did a lot of hunting and trading for it. I know Mom did her best at cooking it, but it was nothing like this one. So juicy, tender, flavorful. I take a quick peek around the room and see Clove chatting quietly with the people around her.

How does she manage to do that? Didn't that clip declare the same thing, that she was one of the favorites? How does she get people to talk to her?

Dessert is an assortment of fruits in vanilla ice cream. It's like I'd never eaten before. If this is food, what had I been putting in my mouth up until this point? I think of Prim and her equal love for all things sweet. She would've loved this. She would've excelled here.

We aren't allowed to leave dinner until everyone had finished, and after that we're on strict orders to go straight to bed.

"You'll be meeting Prince Peeta in the morning, you'll want to look your best.," Effie instructs. "He is someone in this room's future husband after all."

A few girls sigh at the thought.

The click and clack of everyone's shoes up the stairs is quieter this time around. I can't wait to get out of mine. Out of the dress, too. I had one set of clothes from home in my backpack, and I'm debating whether I should put them on, just to feel like myself for a moment.

We disperse at the top of the stairs, each girl heading off into her own room. Clove pulls me aside.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yes. It's just that some of the girls were looking at me funny during dinner." I try not to come across as whiney.

"They're just a little nervous because everyone likes you so much," she says, waving off their behavior.

"But, they liked you too. I saw the signs. Why weren't the girls being mean to you?"

"You haven't spent a whole lot of time with groups of girls, have you?" She was smiling shyly, as if I should know what was happening.

"Well, my Mom and sister, Prim. I went to a public school, but I didn't really have any friends. Well, actually, the one friend I had was a boy." Friend.

"Well, I got tutored with a bunch of girls back home, all girls, and they all have ways of getting under other people's skin. See, it's just about knowing the person, figuring out what will bug them the most. Lots of girls give me backhanded compliments, or little remarks, things like that. I know I come across as bubbly, but I'm shy underneath that, and they think they can wear me down with words." I scrunch my forehead. They do that on purpose? "For you, kind of quiet and mysterious-"

"I'm not mysterious," I interrupt.

"You are a little. And sometimes people don't know whether to interpret silence as confidence or fear. They're looking at you like a bug so maybe you'll feel like you are one."

"Huh." That kind of makes sense. I wonder what I was doing, if I was picking away at other' insecurities somehow. "What do you do? When you want to get the best of them, I mean?"