"So... what do we do now?"

Phillip and I stand just behind the doorway of the train, unsure what to do next. We still hear the massive crowds of reporters right behind us but now we've got at least six inches of metal and between us. I shrug, "I don't know. I've never done this before." And for some random reason, that makes us burst out laughing. I'm giggling so hard, I need to grip his shoulder for support. Pretty soon, my sides hurt and I have to stop myself. I let go and hold up my hands. "Okay, okay. We had a much needed laugh. We need to be more serious though. Our lives are at stake here."

He wipes his eyes of happy tears from our laughter, and nods. "I'm still totally terrified, but it feels good to do that after what I've just been through, you know?"

"Oh, I know what you're saying."

"Mr. Dex. Miss Planar," says the strange lady, her heels clopping on the floor as she approaches us. "I'll show you to your chambers. Feel free do do anything you please. There is room service, but I don't recommend eating too much food. We are eating lunch in exactly two hours. Is that clear?" We nod. "Good then. Come, come, follow me." And she's off.

As we walk behind her, I lean close to my fellow tribute and whisper, "Hey, what's her name? I know I should know it since this is my sixth reaping, but I don't and I feel I should learn it. I feel bad that I don't. It's so rude."

"Her name's Dimitria Lee."

"Oh." I look at our guide and decide the name does fit her. I guess I never bothered trying to figure out her name until now. Dimitria suits the pale woman with bleach blond, nearly green hair, wearing a pink pant suit. I notice her hair is in a bun with pencils and pens protruding from it, and her shoes are freakishly tall. They're six inches. Without them, she'd be our height. How can she walk in those things? And so fast.

We enter a different car and stop at a door. "This is your chamber for the short ride Mr. Dex. As I said, feel free to do anything as you please." And we leave Phillip to his room. It's not far from my chambers. She reiterates doing as I please and leaves me to do whatever.

"Wow." I say, looking around the place. It's so... fancy in here. I walk over to the bed and run a hand over the cushy fabric; I walk into the private bathroom and marvel at the size of the bathtub; I rummage through some of the drawers and admire the clothes. All simply amazing. I guess they like sending off the dead in style. I kick off my shoes and take a running start before leaping into the bed. I don't like the dress I'm wearing, but am so wrapped in comfort, I drift off to sleep in mere minutes.

"Olevia. Olevia," someone whispers. I roll around, realizing that I had somehow managed to get under the covers of the bed. "Olevia. It's lunch time. You're already late. It's either I wake you up or Dimitria will come here herself."

With that, I snap up to see Phillip standing at the edge of my bed. He's not in his dress pants or shirt. He's in a casual outfit, probably from his drawers in his room. I sigh heavily, yawn and stretch before sliding out of the comfort of my bed. Groggily, I rub my eyes and start toward the door when I stop and look back at Phillip still by my bed. "Um, is something wrong? I thought you said I was late already." He looks uncomfortable now, blushing a red that tries to copy his hair. I sigh again. "Do you need to... talk about something?" He still looks uneasy. I go over and grab his hand again, "We can talk later. Let's just hurry before Dimitria comes for the both of us." He nods and smiles, and thankfully this time he doesn't burst into tears. Then he pulls me out the room and down the hall to a dining car.

"Got her. She fell asleep," Phillip informs the group in there. Along with Dimitria are a man and woman with the same black hair as I are sitting at the table, and there are a handful of servants walking around silently. Still holding my hand, Phillip leads me to a chair and sets me there, taking the seat next to me. Then he gestures to the man and woman across from us. "Olevia, this is Beetee and Wiress: our mentors."

"Oh." I now recognize them from the stage. They sat quietly by in the background as we were reaped. "Hi. Nice to meet you." I wave politely and grin minimally. They smile back. I look at Phillip and he actually looks more comfortable. "Do you know them?" I ask. But then he looks uncomfortable again. I'm feeling confused.

The woman, Wiress, speaks. "You see, we've known him for years because he and my niece..." But then she cuts off like she hadn't been talking to me.

Beetee picks it up for her, "Are infatuated. Her niece, Celera has a, um, relationship with Phillip here, so we've met face to face many times before today."

I nod, comprehending everything. Everything said, and left unsaid, but I got it all loud and clear. They will want him to come home over me. Since he's in love with her niece, of course they want to keep it all in the family. So even if he doesn't try to survive, they'll still be trying to do it for him, for Celera. Leaving me out in the cold as an afterthought. As a burden to be endured. I keep my face blank and nod.

"I wish I could've met her. I hope Dell and Celera become friends."

But then I'm hit with a jealous spike. What a way to bond, watching your true loves fighting to the death. They'll be married not long after Phillip and I die, no doubt, driven together by their losses. But maybe that is what I want. It is perfect. They both lose their loves in the same way, so they'll always understand the other's pain. It's almost ideal that they end up together.

But I still love him and don't even want to picture him with anyone else.

I shake the feeling and force myself to eat some of the food. Our district isn't poor, so no one really struggles to eat. Some have a little more than they absolutely need and some have just enough to fill themselves, but nothing less than that. I guess I'd consider my family the kind to have just enough. But the food here is much better. I see samples of pudding in every color which obviously I am most tempted to try. And I eat a few plain bread rolls. I sip on a carbonated purple drink that I'm told tastes like grape, but I don't believe them. Grapes taste nothing like this.

We arrive at the Capitol a few hours after the meal. It was such a short ride, I imagined a day long trip, but when we stepped off the train, it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Huge tall buildings, bright lights every where, people walking around talking in their trilling Capitol accent. I would have stared long of some Peacekeepers weren't shoving me along into the building. This is the Remake Center. This is where we'll spend the day preparing for the opening chariot rides around the huge City Circle. It kicks off the events in the Capitol.

"Dimitria, darling!"

"Anara, my dear!"

A woman with bright purple hair in a sloppy bun and a short red dress comes skipping over to us. I thought she was going to hug her, but they stop inches from one another and kiss each other on each cheek.

"It's been too long since we've seen one another, darling! Which of these kids is my charge!"

"This one!" And she gestures to me. "This is Olevia. Olevia, this is your stylist, Anara. Her and her team will be making you look good for the Games."

Anara comes over and slaps her hands on my shoulders. "Let me get a good look at you. Stay still." And I freeze in place. She walks a circle around me, scratching her chin and humming like she made a discovery. I feel my cheeks flush with color. "I like this one. She's got something I can work with. Something up top and in the bottom." Then she pats me on the butt. I let out a small yelp. She just cackles. "I love the clothes choice too. Bright, very bright. And then your eyes are just to die for. Maybe I'll get mine dyed that shade one day." Dye her eyes? "Well, time to get ready for your big reveal." And she pulls me away from the group.

I thought I kept myself groomed rather well all my life. Apparently not. Anara leaves me with her team to do my base work. They wash me, wax me, comb my hair, bleach my teeth, and so many other painful things for who knows how long. The whole time they chatter away about nonsense I couldn't care less about. But I payed enough attention to their names. Vera, Rosa, and Azul. Vera has a braid of green hair. Rosa has bobbed pink hair. And Azul has blue hair, in the same cropped style Dell has. While they aren't rude to me, I don't think I'll ever truly like them because what they're preparing me for. When they're through, they leave me alone in the massive bathroom with only a towel to cover myself. I take this time to put on my glasses and check to make sure I'm still me. And I am. The girl in the mirror is in fact me. I have my fair, slightly tan skin, my short inky black hair though it looks longer wet, and my icy blue eyes.

"Olevia!" sings Anara from out of no where. I let out another yelp, nearly losing the grip of my towel. She skips over to me and grabs my chin to look at me. "Oh yes, I can really have fun with you. Especially since your clean now." Then she frowns, "Wait, I still have a problem." She removes her hand and reaches for my glasses. Then she backs up an just snaps them in half.

This infuriates me. "Hey! You can't do that! Are you trying to give me a disadvantage? I need those to see! I've seen tons of other tributes where glasses into the arena!"

She cackles again, "Oh, darling! I can't have you wearing those around with me as your stylist! Not with the image I plan on giving you!"

"What image?"

"Stop squinting already! And tilt your head back!" I don't know why I listened to her, but the moment I look up, she's trying to get my eyes open even further. Then suddenly, some liquid is dropped in. And as I'm trying to shake my face away from her, she does it with my other eye. I'm blinking quickly, rubbing my eyes, panicking she may have just blinded me. "Calm down! It takes a moment to work!" And I'm about to for what, when it does work. I stop blinking madly and see that my vision is no longer a blur. It's even better than having my glasses on. I look to her, and she's smirking. "I know what I'm doing here. I've been with this district for many years," Really? She doesn't look old enough to say that, "And I've let them wear glasses in. Most of then were sticks with stringy hair and ghastly pale skin. You're the first in a while that looks decent."

"Thank you?"

"Yes, it's a compliment." Then she smiles grimly, "I'm so glad I can finally try out this new idea of mine. You have the body to fill it out." And she whips away my towel so I'm totally exposed. I try to cover my body and snatching at the towel again, but she tosses it into the bathtub. "If you hurry up and follow me you won't be naked much longer," she muses while walking out.

I walk out with her, trying to cover my front and rear with my arms, but can never get them entirely covered. As soon as I'm in the room she strolled into, I'm getting things thrown at me. They drop to the ground and I take a look at what they are: a bra and panties. I snatch them up and put them on. They're both nude colored matching my skin exactly, and the bra is strapless, but its better than nothing. I look around for my stylist and she's sitting in a lounge chair with her feet up, hands behind her head. "Shouldn't you be getting me ready for the opening ceremony?" I ask.

"Yeah," she replies coolly, not getting up.

"Why aren't you?" She's really starting to bug me.

"I'm waiting for them to bring in the parts for your costume."

"The parts? For my costume? What exactly am I suppose to be wearing that requires parts? Don't tributes usually wear a costume that looks like a fancy factory product or something?" I'm not trying to insult her because the costumes she's made aren't as bad as say, District Twelve, who wear plain jumpsuits with coat dust on them. She stands up as I hear a bustle at the door. Her team is carrying in a large box. Anara walks to where they set it down and opens it up. Then she sticks her hand in and pulls out a length of wire. An extension cord. She bends and snaps it in. "This is it."

I gulp. "How is that long pile of wire going to be a costume."

She shrugs nonchalantly, "If I make it into a dress."

"How?"

"By wrapping it around your body."

"And how exactly do you do ithat/i?"

"Stop asking question and get in front of that mirror." Still confused, I go to stand by a floor length mirror. "Not facing it! Turn away! You're not allowed to see it until I'm done!" I jump to turn around. "Better." She drags over the box, "This is going to take a while."

And a while it does take. I'm standing there for hours while Anara, Vera, Rosa and Azul coil me into my ensemble. They start out kind of loose on the top of my torso, giving me space to breathe, or maybe to accentuate my assets, but as soon as they're done with that, they tug on the cord nagging me to suck it in. Once my midsection is bound comes the the hardest part. They loosen the cord's grip on me, trying to make it flow out like a dress by making each wrap a little larger than the last. To make this happen, they have to weave several other shorter wires into the main frame to hold it together. The shorter wires are in an assortment of colors and we have to stop after every circuit around me.

When it's finally done, the dress only goes to my knees. But when I try to turn around, I get snapped at that they're not done. So I groan and get yanked back into a separate room with a vanity, but the mirror is covered. They slap make up on me, put product in my hair leaving it loose, and stick me in black boots and gloves that reach my elbows. When that's over with, I'm allowed to see myself.

Anara covers my eyes and pulls me somewhere then counts, "One... two... three!" It takes a second for my eyes to accept that the image I see is really me... only a different me. Almost a... sexy me? Me? Sexy? That was hard to imagine before this. But here I am, looking like this. Not much of my skin is exposed, but the idea that only a mere wire separates me from being covered to being stark naked sends a strange feeling through me. My eyes have a smokey affect and the sparse blue wires make my eyes pop. The fit shows off curves I never knew I could flaunt. "I've been dying to do this to some girl for years. And now that I've done it, it's a masterpiece!" Surprisingly, she hugs me, "Thanks for making my vision come true!"

I pat her back awkwardly. "No problem?"

"This is really a dream come true, Olevia. You have no idea." She drops her arms and steps back looking me over again. "You really do look good." She sits in her hip and smirks, "Damn, I'm good." I try not to roll my eyes. I should't really insult my stylist. Who knows the ramifications of someone whose dressing me for the show before my death.

I just wish we'd leave already.

Because that is when the Games really begin. The Games don't start when you're in the arena. Your fight for your life starts the moment you're reaped. But the true challenge is winning over the audience. Having the audience on your side can be the most powerful weapon in there. A responsive audience means sponsors which translates to money for gifts in the arena.

But why should I care? I know I'm dead the first day in. So who cares that the people don't like me?