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AVANI WAS FIRST INTRODUCED TO THE WICKEDNESS OF THE CAPITOL WHEN SHE WAS ELEVEN.
It was a hot day in District Twelve. The summer sun was beating down on the people, baking everyone who wasn't already black from the coal mines into red, burnt crisps.
Avani and her dad were in the square. She'd never been there before — her father instead opted for leaving her in the Seam when he had to go, away from most of the peacekeepers and wealthier people of Twelve. To keep her away from classism and prejudice for as long as he could.
"The Bakery," He spoke as he pointed to a two-story building with cookies in the window and a heavenly smell coming from inside. He was giving her an unofficial tour of the small town. It was bland, but beautiful, lined on three sides with muted-colored shops and the fourth with the Mayor's big house. Mayor Undersee.
Avani stared in awe, nearly salivating as they neared the wooden door of the bakery.
Of course, they couldn't afford anything inside — no one from the Seam could. They'd only scrounged up just enough money to get Avani a new pair of shoes for her first Reaping that was in a few weeks. But she assumed looking wouldn't hurt. Sniffing, maybe? Surely if she didn't get her nose too close it wouldn't do any harm.
When her father turned and went into the bakery for real and not just in the eleven-year-old's imagination, she scrunched her face up.
"I don't think you can buy shoes in here, dad," She offered, her attention only halfway on her father as she stared at the goods around her. There were shelves around, housing nicely packaged loaves of bread, cookies, cakes and pastries, but the best looking stuff was in the glass counter that a woman stood behind, staring at them in annoyance.
"If you're not buying, there's no sense being here," The woman said lowly, propping on the counter. Maybe she recognized Avani's father from the Seam. Or maybe they just looked like they didn't have money, which was also an option seeing as Avani was wearing four size too big brown overalls that her dad had altered too many times to count.
Avani looked down at the perfect looking sweets in the case as her dad leaned in close and spoke to the woman. There were entire pies behind the glass — apple and pecan, mostly. They were browned to perfection, with tiny criss-crossing strips of dough lined across the top like latticework. All symmetrical, all perfect. Even the edges were crimped in such a way to make them look like tiny little scallops, each one rounded to the exact same size.
That pie could feed them for a week.
"Looks nice, eh?"
Avani jumped, whipping her head to the left. There was a doorway behind the counter, and standing in that doorway was a familiar looking boy. Probably a few years older than her, thirteen or fourteen at most, with blonde hair and striking blue eyes. He had on an apron and looked covered in something like flour.
