Panem's Got Talent 2: Grand Finale!

Klee made the FINALS! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

And the best part is? Mom and Dad said they'd be in the audience! I don't know where abouts but Mom told me on the phone - well, a recorded message on an answering machine, but it was so great to hear her voice! I love my Mom. She said they only had time to take their seats and watch my performance and then they'd have to go again because they were off to document river formations in District Twelve or whatever, but I don't care! I'm just glad they're here.

So I told Miss Vroom we had to look EXTRA nice for Mom and Dad! I think she was a bit overwhelmed with my energy but someone had a good idea to supply everyone on set with earbuds. Regardless she put FLAMES on my cheeks and up my arms! With PAINT! It looks SO cool! I feel like a ROCKSTAR!!!!

And! Someone found me a pair of MATCHING FLAME SUNGLASSES! I have never looked cooler. Ever!

At this point I don't care what place I come, just as long as I get to play in front of a LIVE AUDIENCE! This is the bestest day of my LIFE!!!!!! And this time I'm singing, too! Look at this cute microphone! The tape is kinda itchy but I like it!

"KLEE MADE THE GRAND FINALS!!!!!" I scream into the mic, raising my little fists clamped around bright red drumsticks to a roaring crowd. "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Please vote for Klee - that's four letters! K-L-E-E!"

One Two Three Four!

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Me? In the finale? Well, if I must! 

I must admit, this has been a great deal of fun. When I left for the Captiol, the last thing I expected was to enjoy myself - ha! I am much, much more suited to the comfort of the rolling hills in District 1, but the bright lights here have definitely shocked my system. I just hope my grandchildren have been watching.

And if they are: I still got it, baby! 

Now, these other kids I'm up against are pretty tough competition. I've done good to make it this far, but to pull off the win I'm going to really need to put out my big guns. Thankfully, that's all I got! Never underestimate an old dog; can't tell you why not, other than he won't like it much. I am just glad to have gotten to perform again, especially songs I haven't played on my piano since she passed. 

Tonight I'm moving away from the sentiments though, and I'm bringing out the hard rock. That's right, I still know how to rock out, I'm no stranger to a guitar! Call it a guilty pleasure, I have always wanted to have my star moment and if that means smashing a guitar on a Capitol stage at 76 years old then goddamn it I'm going to do it. I didn't come all this way just to leave without this, I just hope the judges enjoy it as much as I will!

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My fingers feel like glass, I think, sort of like windowpanes, like how I feel in October when the leaves are all falling. So I don't know if it's going to be a good day. I think it has to be one though, I'm supposed to make it one.

The mirror glares at me as I run write paint from the top of my forehead down to the nape of my neck, covering up my freckles, my laugh lines, the scar on my cheek from when I was six and I didn't know what I do now.

Red goes on in a heart shape over my right eye, a blue tear drop, comically large, goes under my left. Suddenly, i am gone again, and all that's left is the clown.

But there's safety in numbers.

I've been told that if I try to make balloon animals again, they're going to have to do something about it. The threat was vague but the tone wasn't.

I pull my best ruffle down onto my neck, using my glass fingers, extended, to keep the fabric away from my fresh paint. One time I think CJ asked me where I get them all from, but that's easy. I make them myself, each one, fingers bleeding from all the needle pricks afterwards.

And I don't think anyone realizes why I do what I do and I don't think that they want to. I think they just want me to make them laugh.

Tonight's going to be special.

⟣ ⟢

I've got the taste of cotton candy on my tongue though, singed a little bit and the audience is just an endless, pointless sea.

"Hi, hello," I wave at the silence, "How are you?" I genuinely want to know their answers. Every scream of excitement is like a firecracker against my teeth, I close my eyes briefly against the battering, hands opening and closing as I am quickly overwhelmed. I let myself get dragged away in the undertow.

I open my eyes.

"Do you remember me? I'm-" I start softly but I don't even get the chance to finish before my customary introduction is being screamed at me.

"PIETRO THE CLOWWWN! SOMETIMES I LAUGH AND SOMETIMES I FROWN!!!"

There's a moment where the whole place goes silent and I know I'm supposed to pick it up and shake all the energy around and throw it back but I don't. This time I'm miserly with it and I hold it in my hand, clenched against my chest. "Yeah," I say and smile too wide, head nodding too much, "Yeah, that's me!"

I spin around in a slow circle then, carnival music plays loudly and confetti rains down on the crowd. A stagehand rolls a big cannon out onto stage and I make a weird face at it, then at the crowd, my gloved hands (to hide the glass) cupping my face in mock horror.

"Uh oh," I tell them, "Looks like..... my ride's here!"

It's not even that funny but I twist my voice so ridiculously that it becomes so. I want to scream. I want to throw something. I glance at the wings and Axel's staring at me like I've sprung a leg out of my head, maybe wearing a fishnet stocking, I don't know.

Maybe he looks disappointed in me.

I pull a comically sized matchstick out of my sleeve that's about as long as my forearm. A little girl in the crowd lets out a shriek of delight, people start chanting my name. The crowd doesn't even know what to make of me but they love me and I think that's probably all that matters, right?

Am I doing this right?

"Am I doing this right?" I ask out loud, the match lit in my hands now, fire blazing towards the stage lights up above, the heat of it like trying to hold a star in my hands. I wonder if my parents are watching me on the television, I wonder if they aren't.

Strange, my glove starts to feel like it's melting and I wonder if a person can supernova.

This is why nobody ever lets me get this far, this is why no one relies on me for shit, I have glass for hands, you know? I think after this I might have to- "Can you?"

The voice is tiny, almost missed in all the shouting and the water sprinklers flicking to life from the fumes of my match stick. I stand there in the rain as people run about, trying to get out of the wet, trying to save the equipment, stampeding for an exit, I don't know.

But there's a little boy clambering up the edge of the stage, a little balloon lizard I made him yesterday clutched n his hand. White makeup slides down my face, running over my best ruffles, red swirling in with the blue, washing away my mask. The water plasters my hair to my forehead and within moments, everyone is drenched. Threat over, or perhaps it was done manually, I don't know, the system shuts off.

"Can I?" I ask gently, then drop the burned out waterlogged matchstick beside me before falling into a kneel.

The little boy runs up to me, unhindered by the stagehands who are doing their best to save their technology, he waves his balloon animal at me, he's missing a front tooth but he's smiling so bright.

"Pwease, Petro!" he shouts, "Canneehavafwend?"

The mic clipped to my costume picks up his voice and the scrambling in the crowd pauses as children realize there's the opportunity for more balloon animals.

I know, I should say no. I think I need to go lie down, hold my hands safe against my chest so they can't shatter, but then I'm reaching into my pocket and the lights are getting brighter and my smile stops being so forced.

"What kind?" I whisper.

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