The morning air on the train was cool and smelled of expensive floor wax. I woke at 4:00 AM, my body still tuned to the early rising hours of District 12. After a long, hot soak in the bath to scrub away the last of the coal dust, I dressed and walked down the hall to David's room.
I knocked softly. A moment later, a sleepy "Come in" drifted through the wood.
He was sitting up, rubbing his eyes. I sat on the edge of his bed, and we talked for a bit—not just about breakfast, but about our plan. "We aren't going to be soot-covered shadows, David," I told him, my voice low and firm. "We're going to be the light they can't look away from."
"I don't want to wear the coal suit again, Mama," he admitted, his voice small and thick with sleep.
The word vibrated in the air between us, heavy and sweet. David was an orphan; he hadn't had anyone to call by that name in a long, long time. In the chaos of the Reaping, he had looked at me and seen more than a fellow tribute—he had seen a home. I had stepped into that empty space in his life without even thinking about it. I reached forward and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, my heart aching with a fierce, maternal heat.
"You won't have to," I promised.
I helped him clean up, guiding him through the exfoliation and shaving away every trace of body hair. But the real work happened afterward. I pulled a flexible measuring tape from my pocket and took his exact dimensions. Then, using a small kit of tools I'd kept hidden, I set to work on the base layers of the arrival outfits they had provided.
With the precision of an engineer, I adjusted the seams and reinforced the collars of our tunics on the spot. I tucked a few stray wires and scraps of reflective metal into the hems—subtle "Zinnia" touches that would catch the light differently than anything a Capitol stylist could imagine. I was making sure that when we stepped off this train, we looked like royalty, not laborers.
By 7:00 AM, we were both ready. Right on cue, Miss Effie barged in, her lime-green wig perfectly positioned. She stopped, her mouth hanging open at the sight of us. We looked sharper, more tailored, and far more imposing than two tributes from the Seam had any right to look.
"Good morning, Miss Effie," I said sweetly.
"Good morning! I'm quite surprised at how early you're awake," she chirped, blinking as she took in our altered silhouettes. She motioned toward the door. "Shall we?"
"Of course."
In the dining compartment, the table was a spread of light fruits and pastries. "You look quite lovely today, Miss Effie," I complimented her.
She paused, a genuine blush creeping up her cheeks. "Why, thank you, Zinnia! You look quite lovely as well this bright morning."
Over breakfast, Haymitch and I discussed strategy. I told him I'd already adjusted our base layers to ensure we weren't forced into stereotypical coal gear. He gave me a look—part surprise, part grudging respect—but before he could speak, the noise began.
It was Loud. A physical weight of screams and cheers.
When the doors opened, the roar of the crowd hit me like a wave. I stepped out, smiling and waving with every ounce of enthusiasm I could muster. I scanned the sea of neon until I saw a small girl in a bright blue dress. She was quite young, with lavender highlights in her hair. She wasn't wearing a hairpiece; instead, she had styled her hair to flow just like mine, a miniature reflection of the girl they were already calling the "Ghost of Twelve."
"Hi!" I called out, moving toward her. "What's your name?"
Her mother held her up so she could see me. "Amanda," she said softly.
"That's a beautiful name."
"Thank you... I hope you win the games, pretty lady. I'll make sure Papa sponsors you," Amanda said, her voice full of excitement.
"Well, thank you, Amanda. I hope to see you at the parade," I said. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small bracelet I'd crafted—a delicate, shimmering band that hummed with a faint, grounding warmth. I slipped it onto her tiny wrist, giving her a conspiratorial wink.
"Keep this. It will bring you luck... and make sure you root for me, okay?"
"I will! Bye!" she waved, her eyes wide as she admired the glowing band on her arm.
I waved back until the Peacekeepers moved us along toward the cleaning stations.