A/N: Hello! I decided to start from here because...I actually don't know. But here ya go :D
I am Annie Cresta. I was reaped for the Hunger Games. There was only two more years left. Two more years until I would be too old to be in The Hunger Games. But the odds are not in my favour. I find myself hiding under the sheets. "Annie, wake up. We have to go to meet our stylists." Zac whispers. I hear another knock at the door. I tell him I'll be right out. We were ordered to just stay in our pyjamas. I walk into the dining room and pile my plate with pastries and sit down next to Zac after I find Finnick sitting next to Mags. I hate Finnick. When he first saw me, he sighed heavily and whispered something into Mags' ear. She slapped him hard on the wrist and scowled him. I like Mags. She's nice and is like a grandmother to me. "See you tonight, Zac." Finnick mutters. "And Annie." I make sure he sees the eye roll I give him and exit the room.
Prunella Laver, our escort, takes us to the preparation room to meet our prep-team. I go in to find three cheerful women. The tallest one combs through my hair with an expensive brush. Her skin is purple, decorated with purple gems. The others refer to her as Amethyst. After combing my hair and letting it flow down, they shove me into a bath filled with horrible chemicals that burn my skin. Once they finally take me out, they apply wax to my legs and yank it off, ripping the hairs out of their roots. It's painful torture, a slow one too. I shed tears for the whole hour. Finally, the small plump woman named Nikola paints my nails ocean blue while Amity applies layers of makeup and glitter. They pull me into a room where I meet my stylist. "Welcome, Annie!" another female voice greets.
I expect another crazy clown, but she's quite toned-down with her personality and her fashion choice. Her light brown hair is in a bun and her eyes are green. She's wearing a leather jacket with matching pants. "I'm Fedora." She grins, "But you can call me Dora." Dora walks into the closet to grab my outfit. I wait in hesitation. District Four's tributes are usually dressed as fishermen, pearls or fish themselves. Quite boring if you ask me. Dora comes back with a white bag containing my outfit. "Before I give this to you, may I ask, do you like to swim?" I could never express my love for the ocean in simple words. The feeling of slicing through the water is amazing. It's like you can fly. The water rushing past your fingertips, the ability to be so free in the vast area. But I only say, "Yes." She grins and tells me to close my eyes. I peel off my robe and dress into the outfit. Before I'm allowed to open my eyes, she fixes a headpiece to my hair. "Ok…open your eyes!" I look into the mirror. I'm wearing a dress that reflects light so perfectly that it actually looks like water. I squeeze her hand tightly before being taken to the chariot.
It's not long before our horses take off. District One's tributes are dressed like diamonds. District Two's tributes seem to be knights. Three are wearing flickering lightbulbs. But nothing beats Four. We steal the attention from everyone. Even when President Snow, the ruler of our country Panem, tries to speak, the crowd is still 'oohing' and 'ah-ing.' It's only the anthem, set to full volume, that silences everyone. Zac and I look around at the other tributes. "Let the 70th Hunger Games begin." Zac whispers.