DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins does.

Chapter 3

I woke up the next morning by the lovely shrieks of Frankenstein, who probably decided that slamming his fist repeatedly at the door is a great way to wake someone up.

I was very close to shout at him to fuck off, but then I remembered my act.

I growled loudly and got out of the bed, swearing Frankenstein in my mind. It wasn't as satisfying as swearing him to his face, but that will have to do.

I opened the door after I made sure I looked as small and scared as possible. Frankenstein looked at me with a sympathetic look that I hated. I hated when people felt sorry for me.

"You should come down and eat something," Frankenstein said, his Capitol accent annoying me. "You don't have to get organized. You're going to meet your stylist in about two hours." I nodded my head and walked beside him towards the dining room without saying a word.

"Your stylist is incredible," Frankenstein babbled as we made our way to the dining room. "He will make you look stunning."

I doubted that – District Seven's stylists were both old-fashioned, unoriginal and stupid. Most of the time they made the poor tributes dress up as trees, and I was pretty sure it'll be the same case this year.

When we got to the dining room Wood, buffalo and Teresa were already there, eating junky food and not talking to each other. I sat quietly to Wood's right and grabbed a banana. Teresa eyed my banana and shook her head disapprovingly. She didn't like to see me eat so little.

Maybe she thought that I just didn't stand a chance and that I should eat this week as much as I could, since it'll be the last week of my life. But I was smarter than her – I didn't fill my body with junk, with fatty foods like the rest of the tributes. I ate healthy, so that I won't feel sick and heavy in the arena. Also, I never ate so much in my life. I decided that it'll be smart not to get used to these large meals.

"So, the stylists," Teresa said finally while Buffalo kept eating his bacon hungrily, "Whatever they do to you, do not protest. It will only make them irritated with you. And don't cry," she added, looking straight at me.

Ah.

Well, I guess I'm going to be a fucking baby out there.

"On the chariot rides try not to look weak," Buffalo said, his mouth filled with bacon.

And I need to break down in tears on the chariot rides. Got it.

When Wood and I walked with our mentors out of the train, I felt like I was being ambushed. There were so many cameramen and reporters out there, asking me questions I couldn't hear or answer and taking my picture. Ugh. They're just insufferable. I tried to look as small as possible, and a few of the reports didn't even look at me.

We walked into a big building and Teresa led me to a white, metal door. "Your prep team is waiting for you in there," she said simply. I nodded my head and opened the door.

There were three small creatures waiting for me in there. Oh, did I say creatures? Good. I meant it. They looked absolutely hideous.

And the knowledge that they'll be the group that will fix the way I looked wasn't comforting to say the least.

They started ripping hair off my legs; at first I didn't want them to see how hurt this treatment was, as an instinct. I tried to look indifferent. But then I remembered I needed to show them just how hurt this thing was.

"OW!" I screamed in pain as one of the creatures rip another piece of my leg hair.

I saw them all rolling their eyes and tried not to smirk; it was just too easy, making them hate me. I loved it. It made me feel amusement and entertainment, and god knew I needed as much entertainment as possible in here.

When they started scrubbing my body to get rid of the dirt and, apparently, skin I had on me I started crying. I didn't know if me being able to cry more naturally now, without poking my fingers to my eyes, was a good or a bad thing. I guess it was good, at least for now. I'll need to get rid of this ability as soon as I leave the games.

When they finally finished with the horrible treatment they all looked tired and annoyed.

I felt content.

They started painting my body brown. yeah, I was definitely going to be some kind of a tree.

When they finished with me they all exhaled loudly, glad that they won't have to see me until the interviews.

Morons.

My stylist came in. He looked like a panda bear, with those two huge black circles around his eyes and his pale skin.

He told me to close my eyes; I obeyed reluctantly. He then put something on my body, some kind of a dress. It felt weird against my body, rough and rugged. He started messing with my short hair, and after some time he finally exclaimed "I'm finished!" in his high Capitol voice.

I opened my eyes immediately. I was in front of a mirror, so I was able to see the horror clearly.

I was wearing some kind of a dress made of something that looked like a potato sack, which was dark brown and disgusting. There were branches and sticks stuck to the rough fabric from different places, which made me look like a huge, weird bug. There were also several leaves connected to the branches. My hair looked awful; messy, like some kind of a bird-nest. Maybe the brainless stylist did try to make it look like a bird nest.

"What do you think?" the stupid stylist asked, clearly waiting for me to flatter his great fashion sense.

I really couldn't say anything supportive about this outfit, so instead of figuring out what to say, I started to cry. The stylist didn't know what to think of that; was I crying from excitement, disgust or just because I enjoyed crying? He then shrugged his shoulders, probably thinking that I cried from excitement, and let me go to the chariots.

When I got to the room with the chariots I looked around, trying to make myself look as pathetic as possible. It wasn't that hard with the outfit I wore. Maybe I should actually thank my stylist, whose name I didn't bother learning.

I walked straight to my chariot, knowing that lingering around close to the other tributes won't be to my advantage; then they'll notice me.

Wood was already on the chariot, and was dressed as a tree as well. I had to block my laughter as I thought of how ironic it was, that his name was Wood and he was dressed up as a tree. Oh, the poor, pathetic kid.

I didn't say anything to him when I sat down to his right, and he didn't say anything to me. We just sat there in silent, trying not to look at each other.

I heard a small chuckle to my right and turned to look. The guy from District Six stood there and surveyed me and Wood with a smirk on his face.

"Can I help you?" I asked in a quiet tone that made me sick. I hated being nice to people who didn't deserve it.

"Just enjoying the view," he said, continuing to look at our costumes with amusement.

I looked at the outfits as well. "Horrible, isn't it?" I said, finally saying what I actually thought.

"It is rather insect-like," He said, nodding his head. "But your gorgeousness is still noticeable," He said and winked.

I wanted to punch that stupid bastard. We were going to fight to the death in a week, and he's standing here hitting on me?

What a moron.

What should I say, what should I say… "That's so kind of you," I said, my voice trembling a little. I wanted to kill myself as the words left my mouth. God, I hated being so nice. It was exhausting.

"Any day babe," He said in response and winked again. What a dick.

To my relief his morphling-addict mentor called him to come to his chariot. He gave me another wink and walked away. Thank god. I noticed that most of the mentors were there, but our mentors weren't.

They gave up on us. Me and Wood.

Oh well. Their loss.

When the anthem played and District One's chariot started rolling, I decided to get into the character immediately. I started shivering and shaking, and I could see that even Wood thought I was a loser.

Before District Six' chariot started rolling, the boy (whose name I still didn't know) gave me a small smirk. I tried to return him a 'good luck' smile, which made me cringe.

When our chariot finally started rolling I took a deep breath. Our chariot rolled outside of the room, and I saw a huge audience staring at us from every direction.

That was my cue.

Tears started running down my face. The audience looked disappointed, and some of them even looked at the people next to them disapprovingly.

Now, they'll all remember me as the girl who cried for no reason.

Awesome.

When the ceremony ended all of the tributes started walking to a big elevator. I never used an elevator before in my life; it was so weird. I was pressed up against one of the Careers, a guy who looked down at me (man he was tall) and sneered at me.

Fuck him.

Wood and I got to our floor and walked to the dining room immediately. No one was there, so we decided to check the living room. Yep, Buffalo and Teresa were there, sitting close and talking quietly about god-knows-what. Wood stomped on the floor loudly so they'll know we're there.

They both looked at me with angry looks. I didn't care that they were mad at me. On the contrary. It made me feel in control and strong.

Then Teresa just shook her head. "You just won't listen," She said dryly. "And I swear to you, with your incapability to listen and just do as you're told, I will not be surprised if you'll be the first to... be eliminated from the games."

And I started crying again. This time for real.

The tears didn't come because I was hurt by what she said, but because I was angry, and somewhat frustrated. I wanted to show her that I was not what she thought I was, to show her that I could and will take care of myself. But I didn't. Instead, I just stormed out of the room and ran to my little bedroom.

She didn't know what she was talking about. Not only I won't be the one to die first, but I'll be the last one standing.

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