The elevator that Newt, Ava and I are riding up to the top of the Training Centre smells of roses and perfume, not of home. There aren't any roses in Twelve except for the occasional one in the front of a house in the town centre. Women certainly don't waste their money on perfume, unless it's a homemade recipe. But in the Capitol, I smell roses and perfume whenever I move the angle of my head the slightest bit. I smell the scent until we reach the top of the building, where the floor for the District Twelve tributes, escort and mentor is located. The elevator makes a light, ringing noise as it slows to a halt, and the two sliding glass doors open silently into a large corridor.
"Newt, your door is on the left, y/n, directly on the right," Ava says briskly. "Minho and I will be at the end of the corridor. Speaking of Minho, I have no idea where that boy has gotten to." I grin to myself as I realise that, yes, Minho is still, technically, a boy. My grin fades as Ava storms off down the corridor, probably in search for Minho. I hear a door slam with a bang and Newt and I are left facing each other awkwardly.
"Nice job with the opening ceremony," I tell Newt. He smiles.
"Good that," he replies, almost tiredly.
"What's wrong?" I question him, and the smile fades from my face, too.
"It just makes it so much more real, you know?" he says. "I'm gonna be bloody dead in a few weeks, and all these Capitol people do is cheer us on. It's horrible."
"You're not going to be dead in a few weeks," I say. "I'll make sure of it."
"No, y/n!" Newt says, his voice rising. "We promised to enjoy life now, and not think of that for the time being." I bite my tongue.
"Yeah, you're right," I say.
"Good that," Newt says, and he mutters something under his breath that sounds something like, You're getting home alive, love. I don't think that he meant for me to hear it, though, so I keep my mouth shut and don't acknowledge what he said, even though I'm not getting home alive. He is.
"I'd better wash this klunk off my face," I say, gesturing towards the makeup.
"Yeah, you look good without it," Newt agrees, then turns red, as if he didn't mean to say it aloud. I smile, and laugh.
"Thanks," I tell him.
"Anytime," he says, and a strange surge of warmth runs through me that heats me up from head to toe. I turn around and face the door on the right, before twisting my head back around so I'm looking at Newt.
"See you at dinner," I say.
"See ya, love," he replies, and pauses, as if he wants to say something else. When he doesn't, I walk into my room and close the door behind me.
The room here is bigger than even the one from the train. There's a shower here, too, and a button that I can press when I want to order a drink. Although, judging by the menu, I can not only order drinks, but any type of food I want to eat, too. I can program the wardrobe for any outfit that I want to wear, although when you live in District Twelve, you learn not to bother with fashion choices too much. Instead of choosing what to wear first, though, I open a door along the side of the room to a massive bathroom, complete with a shower cubicle that must be five metres wide, with hundreds of different buttons. I turn the temperature of the shower water right up, and press the first button I see on the panel, which squirts a jet of sky blue foam directly onto my hair. I massage it into my scalp and press another button that squirts pink soap onto my head too. Spending what must be over half an hour in the shower, I manage to press about half the buttons. I use all of the sponges I can to wash all traces of makeup off my face, and massage dozens of brightly coloured soaps into my hair to get rid of all of the black and grey colouring. I scrub my body down, but it still doesn't quite feel like it normally does after all my body hair was ripped off this morning. I rinse my body off with warm water, and step out of the shower onto the fluffy white mat. My hair blows in my face as heaters turn on that completely dry my body in five seconds flat, and I press a different button that sends waves through my hair, drying, untangling and letting it fall across my shoulders, the neatest it's ever been in my life, without me needing to do anything to it. Wrapping myself in a towel, I walk out of the bathroom, quietly humming a tune my mother used to sing to me when I was young. Before I really understood how horrible humanity is. Before I really understood the Hunger Games. I haven't heard it since my mother died, but I still remember all the lyrics and the tune. I walk over to the wardrobe, ready to program it with an outfit I want, trying not to cry at the memory of my mother, when the door flies open. I whirl around and face the general direction of the person who just invaded my new bedroom. Newt's standing there, his jaw wide open, frozen still.
"Newt!" I yell, and look down and see that I'm literally wearing just a towel. Nothing else. I pull it up so it's as high as it can go across my chest. His eyes are focused on my bare shoulder blades, and a red tinge appears on his cheeks.
"Get out!" I yell at him, and he comes to his senses. He looks down and his eyes focus on my bare legs below the towel that stops halfway down my thighs.
"Bloody hell, y/n, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to come in, I thought you'd be ready, I'm so bloody sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Out!" I order him, and without wasting another second, he turns around and practically flees the room, slamming the door behind him. I let out a deep sigh and try to forget what just happened, but I can't. Newt walked into my room. All I had on was a shucking towel! A towel! I let out another deep sigh and feel like screaming. A towel. Shuddering, I turn towards my wardrobe and program the wardrobe to find an outfit. At the moment, I can't care less about what I look like, but I try to keep a clear head. I choose a pair of cream pants, a black shirt, and a grey jacket. I reach for my ribbon to tie up my hair with before I realise it's been taken away by Thomas to be reviewed by the Capitol, so I leave my hair down. I'm about to look in the wardrobe for shoes to wear before I take advantage of not having to go outside because it's technically illegal for me to leave the building, and choose to go barefoot. I'm pulling on the grey jacket and nearly drop it at a knock on the door.
"Y/n?" I hear a young male voice call out. "Ava told me I should come to get ya for dinner. Are you, uh, ready now?"
"Coming, Newt!" I reply, and pull up the right sleeve of the jacket. I jog over to the door and thrust it open.
"Hey, y/n/n," Newt says awkwardly as he sees me standing in the doorframe. "I'm, uh, really sorry about before, I honestly didn't know that you, uh, I was just coming to get you for dinner and I, um..." his voice trails off.
"Let's just forget about it, okay?" I tell him. "It never happened."
"Yeah, yeah, okay, love," Newt says, and nods his head rather vigorously. He looks around as if waiting for inspiration to come out of nowhere. "You look nice," he decides to inform me, and I grin.
"So do you," I say, gesturing towards his choice, which does look good on him. But what doesn't? He's wearing a cream shirt with a warm green jacket over it, and brown trousers. Unlike me, he's chosen to wear shoes, small grey ones with laces.
"Thanks," he says, and coughs. "You look like, well, like you again." He's right, I suppose. Without the makeup and the dress, and the styled hair, I look like y/n y/l/n again, the hunter from the Seam.
"Not that that's a bad thing," Newt quickly says. "It's a good thing." I laugh aloud, and his face eases back into a smile.
"Good that," I say, saying some of his own words to him, wondering how he'll react. To my relief, he gives me a crooked grin.
"Good that," he agrees.
"Should we go to dinner, then?" I prompt him.
"Sure," he says. "Ava said it was just down here." He leads me towards a dining room with a large balcony overlooking the Capitol and a large table in the centre, where Ava, Minho, Thomas and Brenda are already seated. The table is surrounded by young Avoxes, their mouths shut while they swallow with difficulty. I feel a surge of white-hot anger rush through me, but it almost dissolves when Newt lays a hand on my arm.
"I know it's unfair, love, but arguing will only get us in trouble," he murmurs in my ear. I feel a rush of contentment and perhaps more than that as he says 'us', as if wherever I go, he'll follow me there, just so we can be together.
We both take the two empty seats at the table, in between Thomas, on my left, and Brenda, on his right. Minho and Ava are sitting across from us, and they seem to have a sort of peace treaty for dinner tonight to discuss our strategies both before and during the Games. I breathe a sigh of relief. At least they won't be arguing tonight. Much.
"Congratulations today, Newt, y/n," Ava says after a long minute of silence. The others, apart from Minho, offer their congratulations, too, and Newt and I smile and nod in gratitude. A young Avox brings out a meal of brightly coloured sauces on beds of rice, and I devour it hungrily, despite the spicy taste. I remain silent during most of the meal, as does Newt, occasionally glancing up to offer a sentence or two in the conversation, to fall back into brooding silence. The opening ceremony has made the Games feel so much more real, and I'm terrified of what I'll be in a few weeks. A dead corpse, preserved forever in the Capitol, I suppose. I'm supposed to be a brave heroine, Tribute of District Twelve, but in reality, I'm scared out of my mind. Scared of death, and of the pain of dying. I wonder if it'll be quick and easy, or slow and painful. I wonder if the afterlife exists, and if it does, if I'll meet my mother there.
But I'm also terrified of my life for the next few weeks. Will I kill the other tributes? Have innocent blood on my hands? I'm sure I will - I will do whatever it takes to keep Newt alive, even if it means killing other people. I suppose it won't matter, if I'm dead. Part of me welcomes death like an old friend, a void of nothing, not having to fight for survival anymore. I'll be free. But I'm not the only person I'm scared for. I'm scared for Newt, too. I want Newt to live, even if I die. He deserves to survive.
"So, Newt, y/n," Minho says, dragging me out of my stupor. "What did you both think of the opening ceremony today?"
"Good," I say. I don't feel exactly sociable at the moment, and asking me questions really doesn't help. Minho grunts in response.
"Good that," Newt agrees with me, and we exchange a friendly look.
"Right," Minho says, "'cause we'll be watching it now." I look at Ava for confirmation, and she nods rather curtly. Thomas and Brenda stand up, and Minho and Ava follow their lead. Newt offers me his hand to help me stand up, and as I take it, it sends a blaze of electricity up my arm and down my spine. Once we're both standing up, he holds my hand for a fraction of a second too long, until we both simultaneously let go and follow the four adults into a sitting room next to the dining area, where there are three bright, two seat couches. Thomas and Brenda sit down on the one furthest to the left, and Newt takes a seat on the one in the middle. Minho goes to sit next to Newt, but Ava smacks his arm, hard, and gestures to me. I sit down next to Newt, a couple of inches away from him, and Ava and Minho go to sit down on the one furthest to the right. We watch as the tributes on the screen wave at the crowd and gain support as they ride through the City Circle. I immediately notice how all twenty two of them stand apart, until the footage shows Newt and me, his arm around my waist. Watching it from later on, the gesture seems almost protective, and I wonder if Newt feels protective over me.
The thought makes me smile.