The 78th Hunger Games: Chapter 2
"Ouch!" I howl.
My prep lady, Rania, pretends not to notice my screech of agony as she waxes me from head to toe.
"I'm so, so, so sorry Astrid! You're just so SOOO hairy!" she exclaims with her Capitol accent.
I found her accent to be very unflattering; it was high pitched and exaggerated. She always wore that elastic smile, even when I provoked her at times, it being her usual façade . Her deep purple dyed skin and forest green dreadlocks somewhat reminded me of a certain vegetable, an eggplant, which I find impossible to depict myself. Her plumpness contributed well to the eggplant image, complimenting the iridescent hair and the uniquely dyed skin of hers.
I peer down to my arm, pale as snow, and compare the shade and tone to that of Rania's arm, which was busy slapping a damp sheet of paper smothered with honey scented wax, and abruptly releasing the edge of the paper off my skin. The massive difference frightened me, and contributed even more to my creepy perception of the Capitol, prior The Hunger Games.
I wore a smolder throughout the whole time, when Rania took a moment to pause.
"Now, why are you frowning dear? I'm just trying to perfect each flaw possible." She says with glee.
"Rania, I just shaved one week ago, and you're still using wax on me as if I've never shaved in my entire lifetime!" I snap at her.
She crosses her arms and pretends to be offended.
"Hmph. You citizens of District 3 are such snobs, not appreciative of the things we stylists of the Capitol do for you guys," she says grimly.
I smile at her wryly and align myself in the salon chair.
"You know, maybe I should've worked with District 12, they were much grateful and appreciative of my work," She mutters to herself.
I think of the people of District 12, olive-skinned with dark hair and those gorgeous gray eyes, all hairy with bone-dry skin. District 12 was the poorest district of all, its principle industry being coal mining, which only paid the minimum.
District 3, however, was one of the wealthiest and knowledgeable districts considering that my district owned factories for manufacturing automobiles and electronics of such. Most of the families in my district were prosperous; it is unusual that a family in my district would ever live in poverty, unlike District 12, where you would see people on the sidewalk motionless, or either rummaging through garbage cans, desperately looking for something to satisfy their hunger. No wonder they appreciate being groomed by the Capitol's stylists, they never get a chance to have the proper hygiene like the first class districts do.
"Yeah, by the looks of them, you can tell they really need to grab a tweezer." I say with a chuckle.
She finally finishes the waxing and tosses the greasy wax paper in the trash bin underneath her station.
"Looks like you're all prepared" she smiles at me.
"Now, I will leave you in the hands of your new stylist. Otto, take over for today. I have to leave. Goodbye and May the odds be ever in your favor!" She fled swiftly out of the room, her tall heels clicking the marble floor.
A handsome man who looked about 25 enters the room. He wore no makeup, unlike all the other stylists of the Capitol. He has golden blonde hair, which fell as waves over his forehead, hazelnut brown eyes, and a stocky build. He sported a red blouse and suit pants with suede shoes. "Hello Astrid, I'm Otto, your stylist for the games," he introduces himself.
"H-H-Hey," I stutter. Attractive men make me incredibly timid, and especially when I was completely naked in front of him, lacking any clothing, my anxiety even increased. I attempt to cover my breasts and keep my legs together as much as I could.
"No need to be very defensive. I am not going to have your skin dyed blue," he jokes.
I manage to let out a nervous laugh.
"Can I wear a robe?" I ask stupidly.
Otto breaks out laughing, "Of course. Go ahead."
I approach one of the stations, and grab a clean robe off of a chair.
"So, how old are you?" Otto asks as I put on my robe, securing the belt in a knot.
"16," I reply.
"Ah, so your name was entered in the reaping 20 times?" he assumes.
I answer his question, "Yep. I just can't wait till I turn 17, double the entries!" I reply with a touch of sarcasm.
He laughs at my comment, "So, let us get started with ideas on your design for your costume, shall we?"
He pulls out a tiny notepad with a mockingjay on it. I know that symbol. That was the same symbol that the victor Katniss Everdeen wore as a pin during the whole Games about 3 years ago. A mockingjay, a slap in the face to the Capitol. I didn't bother to get into the discussion about the design of his notepad, because it was controversial.
"Alright. Since District 3 is mainly about general electronics, I will have to design something technology related for your dress."
Oh Lord, please do not tell me I will have to be naked, wrapped up in computer cables. I wrinkle my eyebrows at the thought of that.
"I'm thinking we can do something, you know, robotic?"
Maybe I'm not going to be tangled up in computer cables this time.
"For example, what is half-human, half-robot used in technological tests?" He asks.
I answer, "A cyborg?"
Otto beamed at me, "Exactly. A cyborg. I am going to design a special metal plated suit that you will depict as a cyborg. You're going to love it."
For the first time, I convince myself that I will not look ridiculous like the tributes last year who were completely nude, tangled in cables to represent computer plugs. Everyone laughed at our district and it won them no sponsors whatsoever. I watched Otto jot down the components needed for the dress that he was going to design on his notepad.
"Let us begin, shall we, Astrid Delacroy?"