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The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
There wasn't anything tempting on the breakfast table for Cassia. Not the chilled fruit or the steaming potatoes and scrambled eggs, all she felt was that she had made a careless mistake. Finnick had no idea what she had done because he assumed that she had gone with the plan. When he sees that she receives a low score for all of Panem to witness, then he will know that she hadn't done what he instructed. The Careers won't want her anymore and she won't get any sponsors. Her chances of winning the Games have never been lower.
Gia's dark eyes sparkled at her from over the white rim of her coffee mug. "Why the long face, Cassia?"
Placing her unused fork onto the table, Cassia looked up at Gia as she felt the eyes of everyone on her. "I'm not a fan of scrambled eggs." The comment made Gia's lips quirk into a faint sneer. Cassia felt Finnick's eyes burning into her, but she didn't waiver, instead she stared at Gia until the woman was forced to look away. The television suddenly came alive.
"Let's move to the sitting area," Rena suggested, and no one objected to following her and sitting on the navy couches that oddly curled at the ends towards the white tiled floor.
They sat through the first couple of tribute pairs; with Cassia noting that Clio received a seven and Griffin a nine. Finnick sat beside her, his elbows resting on his knees and the muscles in his t-shirt slightly stretching against the fabric. She didn't realize her eyes were roaming until she glanced up and was caught in a trance of sea green irises. He gave her a small smile and turned back to the television as everyone awaited Lark's training score. Gia rested a supportive hand on his shoulder as he anticipated what would indefinitely determine his chances in the arena.
"Lark Danvers of District Four with a score of eight," the number floated across the screen and Gia gave him approving words.
Cassia gave him a curt smile and said her congratulations. Eight wasn't bad, especially when she would be getting worse. The feeling she had felt at the table had transferred over to the sofa and intensified as Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith looked back down at the report.
"Cassia Sommers of District Four with a score of . . ." Caesar's eyes darted back down to the report again, confusion blazing in his professionally stiff eyes. He cleared his throat. "With a score of one."
Her heart plummeted. Time seemed to slow as everyone gasped, the commotion of disbelief coming from everyone's mouths sounding distant. She never felt Finnick grab her arm and lift her from the couch, pulling her from the sitting room to her bedroom and promptly shutting the door. What had she done? She should have went with the plan, to do as Finnick had said so that way she could have had a chance at winning. Now she won't even get a single sponsor and the alliance with the Careers has probably turned to dust. She was a tempered fool. Her father and her sister were probably ashamed of her.
