Shellfish

1 

"Cornelia, fix that collar of yours," my grandfather says.

I give him a well-practiced smile and nod, before I look down at my collar. It's poking out awkwardly. I pat it down, making sure it lays flat before I go on to smooth out imaginary wrinkles all over my skirt. I should have made sure I looked alright before we left for the Tribute Parade. You should always look prim and proper when you're around people – every adult in my presence has instilled this wisdom in me ever since I was a little girl. Especially Livia, my stylist.

Livia dresses me from head to toe for every important event I attend. Today, she has decided to tie back my hair with a bow that matches the color of the dress I'm wearing; it's a light blue thing made of smooth, shiny fabric, short-sleeved and knee-length, it looks a lot like a fancier version of the dress that the girl from District 12 wore during the Reaping. Maybe Livia hadn't noticed the similarity. The girl from Twelve won the fickle hearts of many Capitol residents with the courage she showed when she volunteered for her little sister. Whether it was intentional on Livia's part or not, dressing me in this understated outfit to look like one of the bravest tributes of the year is definitely a strong choice for this occasion.

It's my first time joining my grandfather to watch the Tribute Parade live. All my life, I've watched the chariot rides from the safety of the salon back at home, and that makes complete sense; the President's only granddaughter is best kept safe in the warmth of the salon in the Snow Mansion. But now I'm here in the seat next to Grandfather, ready to witness the spectacle with my own eyes. Since I turn fifteen soon, Grandfather decided it would be alright for me to come along this time. Attending the opening ceremony to the 74th annual Hunger Games will be a good way for me to ease into the rhythm of all the official events that I'll attend as an adult in the future. I know that my behavior here needs to meet a certain standard of sophistication, with the whole nation watching and everything, but the atmosphere is buzzing with anticipation, and the spirit of the crowd is practically contagious.

After Grandfather gives the nation an eloquent greeting, the ceremony begins officially. Chariot after chariot rolls into the large arena, and cheers fill the air as each new tribute couple appears. Their costumes range from totally beautiful – District 1 dazzles the audience as usual; a carnival of precious gemstones reflect the bright spotlights shining from the stands, sending bits and pieces of sparkles everywhere – to plain awful and lazy. A couple of trees from District 7? Come on, could they be more unoriginal? I refrain from sighing at the sight of the predictable trees as my eyes wander to the back of the chariot line, where they land on the couple from District 12.

Before I can stop it, a scream of horror finds its way through my lips. The tributes from District 12 are literally on fire. The tributes can't be hurt before the Games, it's against every single rule. They are being consumed by flames, and no one is doing anything to stop it. I want to rush straight to them, I want to get closer, I want to help them! The periphery of my vision catches the movement of Grandfather's head turning towards me, reminding me that I must compose myself. I can't let the crew of Grandfather's most important advisors and allies see me act out; I can't do something rash and make a fool of him, so I do my best to restrain myself and stay put.

"It's not real, my darling," says Grandfather, quietly, so that no one else in his posse can hear.

Grandfather's words immediately calm me down; he knew exactly what I was thinking. My thoughts quickly grow rational again. How silly of me to react like that, of course the fire isn't real, that would be ridiculous. The flames do look a bit off, now that I'm looking at them through sensible eyes. My former horror transforms into awe as I watch the artificial flames dance up and down the tributes from Twelve. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. The fire lights up their faces, and it makes them look unbelievably fierce where they stand, hand in hand. It's a fabulous fashionable feat, absolute design brilliance. They're stunning.