Chapter Three

Despite the obvious pain that I experienced while on the train, I realized that it was all (sort of) worth it when I saw the Capitol. Seeing the Capitol, the main city of Panem, on television was nothing compared to the actual thing. There were hundreds of buildings, all several stories high, made of sparkling glass. It was like a fairytale, the light from the sun seemed to dance across the magnificent buildings.

Large groups of Capitolians (hey, that has a nice ring to it, I might have to keep using that), all strangely dressed, were excitedly hovering around the train station, waiting to see the tributes for the first time. One man was dressed in multi-colored yoga pants with a silvery jacket. To add to the bizarre outfit was a string of lights, wrapped around and around his body under his jacket. A woman nearby him had a huge pink-sequenced dress. It had a waist that extended three feet in every direction, in a way that nobody could get very close to her. There was a young boy standing with his mother, no older than seven, who had his long hair in a ponytail, dyed six different colors, and shaved on the sides. I went momentarily blind when I tried to take it all in. How had those Capitolians survived so long without at least needing glasses?

As I stared out the window, imagining a crowd of people, all with giant light-up glasses, Minnie rushed Leo and I off of the train.

"Quick!" she yelled, "We have the tribute parade tonight, and you both need to get ready!"

The tribute parade was a traditional event in the Games where all twenty-four tributes were seen for the first time after the reaping. Each district's stylist would design an outfit that would be worn during the parade to represent the district. As District Two's specialty was masonry, tributes were normally dressed in armor.

I was actually very concerned about our outfit, as I was 99.99999% sure that Leo had never worn armor in his life, and had never worn anything heavier than a t-shirt. This was NOT good, as it would reflect negatively on District Two and my chances of getting sponsors.

Or, I thought, it will make me look better, and increase my chances of being the tribute that is sponsored!

We had finally reached the Remake Center, where we had to be prepared for the tribute parade. I was separated from Leo (at long last), and taken into a room with three Capitolians. One of them, Renalda, was completely decked out in a neon green workout suit, even though she looked as if she never worked out a day in her life. The second lady claimed that her name was Qué, though I'm not entirely sure that she was telling the truth. The third was a man, Florenzenian. I don't think that I will ever be able to pronounce her name correctly.

Renalda took me into the Remake Room first, stripping down the dirty clothes and covering me in a thin robe. The other two then came in with tweezers, waxing cream, a huge variety of lotions and body washes, and three very harsh looking sponges. They immediately set to work, plucking my eyebrows, waxing my legs, and scrubbing my body until I was raw.

"Well, well, well! That was definitely easier than last year!" exclaimed Florenzenian with a final pluck of an eyebrow.

"Extremely!" Qué squealed, in a voice to high to be allowed, "District Two's tributes were absolutely horrendous! You'd think that they had never heard of soap!"

"I think you are ready to see your stylist, Marcel," (Marcella's ex-husband?), "We finished much faster than we planned! However, I don't think it will be the same for the boy. Veil's team has their work cut out for them. They always think that the girls are more work. Ha!" Renalda seemed very excited; perhaps she was competing to provide the best tribute. It didn't really matter to me though, I was just happy to finally get away from my tweezer-happy prep team.

The enthusiastic trio led me to a room across the hall, where Marcel sat waiting. If any of the prep team were strange, he was by far the strangest. His hair really did stay true to his name; it was flipped back in a complicated looking curl. Two-foot orange wedges changed him from four and a half feet to over six. His legs were covered in bright red way-too-tight leggings; they were so tight that I briefly thought that he had died his legs red. To add to the strange getup was a loose yellow disco shirt with orange stars randomly placed across it. At first glance, I thought that he was on fire. I never understood the Capitol's style.

Marcel pulled me into the middle of the room, and then began to circle me for a very long time, thinking.

"Well, I would like to say that you did a marvelous job on her eyebrows Florenzenian!" (So that's how you say his name…) "Renalda, thank you for fixing up those legs, though they are quite red. I wonder how long that will last. Oh, and Lauren-"

"Who's Lauren?" I asked, confused. There was no one else in the room.

"What do you mean 'Who's Lauren'? That's Lauren." He pointed at Qué. (I knew it!)

Qué/Lauren put her head down and mumbled, "My name is Qué…"

"No, your name is Lauren! Why would anyone name their kid Qué?" Marcel scolded, obviously annoyed.

"I just thought it was a cool name! Lauren is such a boring name…"

"Oh my goodness… you all are going to give me grey hair. Please leave so that I may situate this girl."

Rude much? I thought. Without me, you wouldn't have a job.

My prep team left, leaving me alone with Marcel the human torch.

"Now that they're gone, it's time for you to see your outfit!"