Ashley Odair (73rd Hunger Games)

Chapter 11 - Mother

Throughout the journey to out floor, Felon keeps up a continuous commentary. Meanwhile, my stomach churns. Tonight, I will be standing in front of the entire population of Panem. I wonder what I will be wearing. So long as it isn’t something inappropriate. I look up and notice Kai, Felon and Finnick staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Felon said, do you want to have supper immediately?” Finnick sighs.

“I dunno.” I say stupidly.

“Well, we shall go with the majority vote and wash first. Does that sound okay with you?” Felon asks, seemingly concerned. I shrug. I’m not fussed.

The lift arrives. Gladly, I step out, fanning my face with my hands. The lift was warm.

sh“You’re hot? Oh my. You, Avox, turn on the conditioning, right away. Now dear, you must go straight to bed. Oh dear, you’ll be fine my little Ash. Everything is going to be okay!” Felon whimpers.

“Thanks Felon, but I’m fine.” I say, stalking off towards the clump of doors.

“Your room is the first door along.” Finnick instructs. I nod, but don’t turn round, not wanting to see his longing face, staring after me. Instead, I march into the indicated room, swinging the door shut behind me. In the past Hunger Games, lots of tributes have mentioned just how grand the living quarters were. However, scrutinising the room the room around me, I find it rather dull. The wall is monotonously dull, the bed donned with only two thin blankets, and the mattresses are hardly luxury. Still, to a commoner, from the districts, it would seem like heaven. But after my years in the Capitol, in Mother’s expensive ‘abode’, as she would call it, it seems rather drab. Groaning, I wander over to the shower to find a panel of buttons. Looking closely, I see that they are identical to those at Mother’s house. Closing my eyes, I try to think back to my years in the Capitol. Muscle memory enables my fingers to type in the perfect formula for a warm, relaxing shower. I throw off my clothes and walk into the falling water. Warmth flows over my shoulders. I close my eyes and lose myself in the calm collectiveness of the now steady streaming liquid. I am home. Everything that has ever happened in the past 2 years was just a dream. A nightmare. And now I was awake and having a shower, with Mother waiting calmly downstairs. Blake would be there too, my fiancée. My chosen one. 1 of 3 suitable boys, chosen by Mother. I open my eyes. Mother was calling me. I resist the temptation to call ‘Coming Mother.’ Only Ash Odair would say that. Not Ash Lozanda. Mabel, my Avox, would inform her of my whereabouts.

“Dear little Ash! Are you ok? You’re missing supper. You shan’t have time to eat it if you don’t hurry dear, because you need to meet your stylist. Oh dear little Ash. Please hurry up!” a bleating voice cries. I can barely hear it over the melodious rush of water. I try to block it out. I can’t. It wasn’t a dream. I am going to the Hunger Games. To my death.

I know that Felon will be getting worried. Reluctantly, I turn off the shower and wait for the hot air to blow me dry. Within seconds, only the very roots of my bronze hair remain damp. Satisfied, I slip on a long flowing orange dress. It fits perfectly. I shiver pleasantly as the smooth silk adjusts. Confidently, I stride out of my room and back into the dining room. Felon, Kai and Finnick sit pleasantly around the table, staring at me expectantly.

“Sorry I’m late.” I murmur and take my place next to Kai.

“You look nice,” Kai states. His hair is slicked back and he is wearing a smart white shirt and jet black trousers. His hair is washed of the dirt that usually covers it, so that it matches his eyes. Much better than the average Kai, in blue overalls, stinking of fish oil. He looks amazing. He seems to practically glow, after his shower. But I don’t admit that. Instead I say