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I grit my teeth and listen to the ripping sounds my hairs make as they are torn from my leg. I have promised myself that I am not going to cry in front of these people, no matter how much they hurt me. And no matter how much I want to puke with their high voices and mouths that barely open when they talk.
"Sorry!" Venia, an aqua haired woman with gold tattoos above her eyebrows, says as she pulls the strip away. "You're just so hairy!" I roll my eyes before looking at her. I'm surprised to see a sympathetic face. "Good news," she continues. "This is the last one. Ready?" I grip the edges of the table I am on and nod. What's left of my leg hair is ripped away with a painful jerk. I've been in the Remake Center for the past three hours, since we got off the train. My stylist has yet to make an appearance. I guess he doesn't want to see me until my prep team, Venia and two others, are done getting rid of obvious problems. The solutions to these problems have been to be scrubbed down with a gritty foam that's removed the dirt along with what feels like three layers of skin, turn my nails into uniform shapes, and rid my body of practically all the hair on it. The only hair left on my body is what's on my head, my eyebrows, and in my nose. Other than that, I'm a fucking plucked bird.
"You're doing very well." Flavius, a guy with orange corkscrew hair and purple lipstick, says from behind me. "If it's one thing we can't stand, it's a whiner." A small curl dangles in the corner of my eye. He has been doing my hair for the past hour, possibly hour and a half, while Venia and Octavia, a plump woman with pea green skin, have been dehairing me and fixing my nails. "Grease her down!" Venia and Octavia rub me down with a lotion that starts to sooth my raw skin after an initial sting. I keep myself from sighing in relief and pleasure. Once they are done, I am forced off the table and they circle me, each armed with a pair of tweezers to remove any stray bits of hair. I'm naked in front of them, but that doesn't really bother me. These three don't actually count as people in my book, not the people I'm used to dealing with anyway. "Excellent! You look like a human being now." Flavius says and all three of them laugh. I look in the mirror. I look like a plucked bird about to be roasted. I force a smile onto my face.
"Thank you," I say sweetly. I want to puke at the sound of my own voice. "We don't have much cause to look nice in District Twelve." I keep myself from biting my lip. I almost said Thirteen. My words win them over completely.
"Of course you don't, you poor darling." Octavia says, sounding in distress for me.
"But don't worry," Venia jumps in. "By the time Cinna is through with you, you're going to be absolutely gorgeous." Cinna? Now why does that name sound familiar.
"We promise!" Flavius breaks my train of thought. "Let's call Cinna!" That name again. My prep teams darts out of the room and move to the mirror where my robe is hanging. The quick glance shows that my hair is in a high pony tail with a small section curled and moved in front of my face. It's the nicest it's ever looked. I usually just wear it tied back and my bangs held back with a clip. The door opens. I turn to see a young man in a simple black shirt and pants outfit, brown hair, and green and gold eyes. The gold is complimented by the gold eyeliner that has been applies lightly. Wait, green and gold eyes. We both pale and I jump for my robe, yanking it off the mirror and wrapping it around myself. Fuck me! I straighten the mirror and catch a glimpse of my face, now a lobster red.
"Snowden?" He asks.
"Hey, Cinna." I squeak out and I know I turn a brighter shade of red.
"What are you doing here?" The question drives away my embarrassment and I can look at him again. He steps back and I know I have a scowl on my face.
"Didn't you hear the council's decision? They decided to choose someone from among Thirteen to come and win the Games. They chose me. They want me to be the one who can unite the Districts against the Capitol." He sighs and I cross my arms over my chest, still slightly embarrassed. "You're not going to start drinking on me, are you? I already have a drunk on my hands and one is enough."
"No," he seemed about to say more but decided against it. "Well, I have to do my job. Take off the robe."
"W-what did you just ask?"
"I told you to take off your robe. Whenever I've seen you in Thirteen, you've been running on some errand or another. I need to see what I have to work with." Reluctantly, I take off my robe and let him circle me. I have to keep myself from crossing my arms. Finally, I can put back on the robe. We walk into the sitting room and sit on opposite facing couches. He presses a button on the side of the table between us and our lunch, chicken and chunks of orange in a creamy sauce laid on white grain with green peas and onions and rolls shaped like flowers and some sort of honey colored pudding. I eat some of the chicken and we're silent a while as we eat. I know both of us are trying to forget about the fiasco in the other room. I had forgotten he had become a stylist and that he would be debuting at these Games. I knew his name sounded familiar. "So, Snowden," I look up at him. "For your costume, Portia, the stylist for Gale, and I are thinking to dress the two of you in complementary costumes. As you have been told, it is customary to reflect the flavor of the district."
And by flavor he means industry. Twelve's industry is coal. I remember some of the costumes that I've seen: skimpy outfits with hats and head lamps. One year, the tributes were completely naked and covered in black powder to show coal dust. He wouldn't dare, would he? "So, a coal miner's outfit?" I ask hopefully.
"No. The coal miner thing is overdone. You won't be remembered in that." He would dare. Of course he would dare. He's always liked to torture me. "So we're going to focus on the coal itself." I am going to kill him for this. "And what do we do with coal? We burn it." I look at him in shock. That's not what I expected. "You're not afraid of fire, are you Snowden?" He sees my expression and grins. He is so dead when I see him back in Thirteen.
"I'm going to kill you for this." I hiss at Cinna as he makes a small adjustment to my headdress. I'm dressed in a simple black unitard that covers me from ankle to neck, something I'm glad for after this morning's fiasco. In place of my boots, I'm wearing shining black leather boots that lace up to my knee. But it is the cape made of streams of orange, yellow, and red and the matching headpiece that has me nervous, and furious. Those are to be set on fire just before out chariot rolls onto the street.
"You'll be fine, Snowden. It's not real flame. Otherwise I would have your hair up in a bun or something like that." My hair had been left in the ponytail Flavius had put it in. "Snowden, the girl who was on fire." He says dreamily. I bite my lip to hide my fear. My friend has become a madman in my absence! Gale and his team join us and I'm just a bit relieved that he's dressed in an identical costume. I give him a once over and I can feel him do the same to me. Before we have a chance to say anything, Cinna and Portia whisk us to the bottom level of the Remake Center which is a giant stable. The opening ceremonies are about to start. I look at the tributes being loaded into their chariots as Cinna and Portia help us into our chariot that is drawn by four coal black horses. They arrange our bodies and the drape of our capes before moving off to consult with each other.
"What do you think?" I whisper to Gale. "About the fire I mean."
"I'll rip off your cape if you rip off mine." He answers through gritted teeth.
"Deal." I say, hoping that we can get them off without severe burns. Cinna is so dead for this. And then Haymitch is next. He's supposed to be keeping me alive and now I find myself dancing with death by fire. My thoughts are interrupted by the opening music blasting through the speakers. The doors slide open and District One rides out. We're about to ride out when Cinna appears with a lit torch.
"Here we go." He says and touches our capes with the torch before I can stop him. I wait for the heat, but there's only a tickling sensation, a very faint tickling sensation. He climbs in front of and lights the headdresses. "It works." He sighs in relief. I glare at him. Yup, so dead. "Heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you." He jumps down and shouts at us, gesturing for us to hold hands. Gale and I look at each other and debate it silently before taking each other's hands. We did make a deal with Haymitch after all. Those two are so dead when I get out of the arena. I glance at the screen and I gasp by how we look. We're breathtaking with the fire illuminating our faces and the trail of fire from our capes. In place of an actual smile, I smirk, making myself look confident. Gale's face remains impassive and I recognize a hunter's look in his eye. Someone tosses me a red rose. I catch it and give it a sniff before nodding in the general direction of the giver. As we reach the City Circle, I notice how tightly I'm holding onto Gale's hand. I'm surprised neither of us has cut off the other's circulation. I loosen my grip, but he holds tight.
"If you let go, I'll fall out of this thing." There's a pleading not to his voice so I hang onto his hand. Though, in this aspect, Cinna is cruel. It's not fair to show us as a united team and then put us in the arena to kill each other. We stop in front of President Snow's mansion where the president himself is standing on a balcony above us. He's a small man, thin with paper-white hair. He gives the official welcome and I can feel his eyes on me through the entire thing. Shouldn't he be looking at every tribute? I look up at him. Yup, he's staring right at me. But why? Maybe our costumes. Then we're riding into the Training Center. I let the smirk fall from my face as Cinna and Portia arrive and help us down from the chariot and carefully remove our capes and headdresses. Portia extinguishes them with a spray from a canister. I force my fingers from Gale's.
"Thanks for keeping hold of me." He says. "I was getting shaky there."
"It didn't show." I answer and walk to the elevators. I need sleep. Not to mention I might kill Cinna for this before he has a chance to work more of his magic on me.
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