We spend the rest of the day getting ready for the tribute parade. Jake asks me all sorts of questions so he can figure out exactly what to dress me in for the tribute parade, keeping Keeth in mind as well and working with his stylist since we would be wearing the same thing.
I'm in a small room by myself in the remake center. It's almost like a sitting room, it has a couch and a table; it's kind of cozy although I don't sit, just pace around impatiently. I wait for Jake to come back after conversing with Keeth's stylists. He's been going back and forth to see Keeth's stylist for over two hours. It's starting to get on my nerves. Why can't me and Keeth just sit in the same room and do this? I try not to ask questions; I hate this enough already.
Jake finally comes back in the room. I sigh out of the relief from my impatience and roll my eyes. He shoots me a look. "Watch it," he tells me.
"Shut up," I say. He just smirks and shakes his head. He's catching on quickly. He sits down on the couch and motions for me to sit beside him. I cross my arms, roll my eyes, and go sit next to him.
When I sit, I notice for the first time that he's hold a sketchpad, but I can't see what's on the page since he's holding it to his chest. I motion with my head to the pad. "What's on the page?"
"A design we came up with for you two," he tells me. I reach out to take the sketch pad, but he shakes my hand and pushes my hand away.
I look at him with a questioning look. "What?" I ask. "Can't I see it?"
He shakes his head again. "Not yet," he replies. "I just have one more question for you."
"Alright," I say. "What is it?"
He pauses before answering. "You're the daughter of the famous Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire." I nod my head.
He smiles. "You're not afraid of fire, are you, Colemet?"
...
Good thing I'm not.
The next three hours are spent making, fitting, and working our outfits. I finally get to see Keeth again since the train. When I see him, I hug him.
When we finish our hug, he pulls back and puts his hands on my arms. "Are you ok?" he asks seriously.
I nod my head assuredly. "Yep," I tell him. "I'm ok now." He smiles at me.
We turn our heads to glance at our stylists. Keeth looks back at me. "Any idea what they're doing?" he asks.
I guess his stylist didn't tell him either. I shake my head. "Not a clue," I tell him. "My stylist did ask me if I'm afraid of fire. That scared me a little bit..."
"Mine asked me that too," he replies. "Maybe we'll be on fire like your parents."
"Gosh, I hope not," I say. Despite the fact that I'm not too crazy about being on fire in the first place, I don't want to follow in my parents' footsteps. I want to make a name for myself. I want be remembered as my own, as Colemet Mellark, not Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark's daughter. Family can only go so far. I know that too well.
I try to change the subject. I finally have an opportunity to actually talk to Keeth. It may be one of the last ones I have, I'm not going to waste any shot I get. "So what approach are you taking to the Capitol?"
He pauses for a moment. He just shrugs. "I'm not sure yet. I didn't really choose one."
I look at him skeptically. "Didn't your stylist ask what approach you wanted to take?"
He shrugs again. "She did. But I didn't really give an answer."
"Why not?" I ask. It didn't make sense. Keeth's always been so sure of himself. I thought for sure he'd know exactly what he wanted to be.
"Because I don't want to be defined by the Capitol; I just want it to work as I go, just see what happens." He pauses. "And I honestly couldn't care less what they think about me anyway."
That makes me smile. It sounds like Keeth. I thionk his approach at not taking an approach is one of the best I've ever heard.
He interrupts my thoughts. "So what did you choose for your approach?"
I smirk at him the way he always does to me. "You'll see," I say.
He raises his eye brows at me. "You're not going to tell me?"
I smirk broader. "Maybe," I say. He just smiles at me and shakes his head.
Finally, our stylists come over to us. I'm definitely losing patience with them, especially Jake. He says he's here to help. I feel it'd be helpful if he could tell me what's going on. I cross my arms as they approach.
"Did you figure it all out yet?" I ask him impatiently.
"Yup," he answers me.
My next question comes as an instinct given the situation. "Are you setting us on fire?"
Jake gives me wry smile. "Yup."
I turn to Keeth. We're both thinking the same thing.
Oh no…
…
Before Keeth and I even have time to think, or protest at that, our outfits are ready. Our stylists bring them to us. We both study them curiously.
They're all black, symbolizing coal and coal mining from District 12. All of the tribute parade outfits need to resemble our home district. There's a jacket for each of us. Keeth's goes only to his waist while the hem of mine falls to my mid thighs and flares out a little starting at the waist. There are strange collars on the jacket too. The pants are loose on Keeth but tight fitting on me so that the material hugs my legs while still looking classy and not suffocating me. On the back of each of the jackets, there's a huge 12 that takes up the entire area of it. We both have a pair of black combat boots to go with it.
The outfits look somewhat similar to the pictures I've seen depicting what my parents wore, but there's definitely a distinction to a point where it won't be looked upon as the same thing. I feel relief about that. Maybe I will be remembered as something of my own.
We're each handed the outfits. "So… um… we're going to be… on fire?" I ask Jake uncertainly.
He chuckles a little bit. "No, not exactly." I'm a little revealed to hear that but the relief doesn't last for long. "Right before your chariot is released, we'll be lighting the bottom of your outfits on fire with a synthetic stunt fire. It doesn't burn and you won't feel a thing."
"What's the fire for exactly?" Keeth asks suspiciously.
His stylist answers him with a smile. "You'll see." She winks at us.
I don't like that answer. I look over at Keeth. Judging by the expression on his face and way his jaw is set, he didn't like it either. When he turns to me, I shoot him a look that he understands. He just shrugs.
After we're given our outfits, our stylists start to push us in opposite directions. "Come on," Jake says as he leads me down yet another hallway in what seems like the endless remake center. "Time for you guys to get changed."
He brings me to a small room to change. I go inside, shut the door, and put on my costume. It fits me perfectly. After all, it was made for me. After I tie the laces to the combat boots, I look in the full length mirror. I like the outfit on me. It suits me. It looks like what I am to the Capitol. Defiant.
I hear Jake knock on the door. "Come in!" I call to him. He opens the door and comes in. When he sees me in my costume, he smiles widely at me. "You look great," he says with sincerity.
"Thanks to you," I say. He blushes.
"Alright," he starts. "Now we do your hair and makeup." He motions to a chair on the far side of the room. It's sitting in front of a mirror and a counter that holds brushes, clips, make up supplies, and a ton of other things. I go and sit down. He turns me away from the mirror and begins to work with my hair.
Now thinking about it, Jake doesn't really seem like the stylist type. He seems like just a normal teenager who's becoming an adult. I question this. "So how much do you really know about style?"
He chuckles at this. It relieves me a little, I was hoping I wouldn't offend him. "Not much," he replies. Figures. "But enough to pass you guys off for the Capitol's approval."
That makes me laugh a little. I wonder what he actually did to get the job since he was only in it for the compassion he felt in his heart. I try not to think much of it and just be grateful.
Eventually, he decides just to leave my hair down but to make it wavy. He does that and pins the frontmost strands of hair back on my head.
For my makeup, I have some slight blush on just to give my face color. He puts clear gloss over my lips. For my eye makeup, he uses black mascara and eyeliner and touches it off with some shimmery white eye shadow.
When I see he's using that, I question like I do everything it seems. "Why the white?" I ask. "It seems like such a contrast."
I see him smirk out of one eye as he lightly puts it on my eyelid of the other eye. "You'll see," he tells me mysteriously. I guess it makes sense in his own mind.
Finally, he turns me around to see myself. When I see myself in the mirror, it seems strange at first. This is the first time I've ever worn makeup. It's definitely a new change. I'm not sure if I like it or not.
"So what do you think?" Jake asks me hopefully.
I take a second before answering. "…Different," I finally say. "Definitely different."
"Well, different can be a good thing," he replies. "You look gorgeous."
I blush. "Thanks…"
I get up out of the chair and follow Jake out of the room. We go back through the hallway that we came to meet Keeth and his stylist, whose name I now know is Cynthia. When we get to the end of the hallway, I see Keeth decked out in the same gear I am.
I walk up to him. He looks me over and smiles. "Nice," he says.
"Nice yourself," I return the compliment. I glance over and see the stylists whispering to each other. I turn back to Keeth. "Any more ideas on what the fire could mean?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Not really. Whatever it is, it can't hurt us. That's all the assurance we probably need."
"I hope you're right…." I reply uneasily.
Our stylists turn back to us. "Ok. Time to go," Cynthia tells us in a high pitched voice. As we turn to leave, she gives a squeal of excitement. I roll my eyes.
We start down a different hallway towards what I know as where the door is. We trail behind the stylists who are smartly leading the way. As we walk, Keeth reaches down and takes my hand in his. Despite the fact that I'm doing pretty well, he always makes me feel better in just the way I need.
When we finally exit the remake center to my relief, there's a fancy Capitol car waiting for us to take ys to the parade. We all get in together. We're all silent for the whole fifteen minutes of the ride. I guess we're all just thinking everything over. As each minute passes, I get more nervous about the parade. What are we supposed to do on the chariot? Just stand there? I feel like I'd look like a fool. I certainly don't want to wave to the people, I don't even want to smile. I guess I'll just play it out when I'm on there. That is if I don't fall off of it.
We finally get to the parade and go back to where our chariot is. Haymitch, my mother, and my father are all waiting for us. When we see them, their faces all light up.
"Nice look for you, Sweetheart," Haymitch comments. He seems sober. I smile in thanks.
My mom comes over to me and hugs me. "You look great, Colemet," she tells me.
"Thanks, Mom," I reply.
She turns to my father and smiles softly. "She looks just like you, Peeta." He smiles at her then comes and gives me a hug too.
Keeth comes over to us. My father shakes his hand and my mother gives him a hug. They seem happy to see him, which is something nice to see. I feel bad for Keeth, that his mother didn't come to the Capitol with us. I can only assume he misses her. But he understands why she didn't want to come, and he's ok with it, which only makes me respect him more.
My mom comes back over to me. I look at her hopefully. "Any last minute advice?"
She shakes her head. "I'm not going to tell you how to do this because I know you can do it on your own."
That makes me smile, knowing she has the faith and confidence in me to do this right. I hope her confidence is right.
Haymitch comes over to us. His walk is a little shaky, so I was wrong about him being sober. Even so, he's not exactly drunk. "Alright, you two," he says, putting a hand on my back and Keeth's back and guides us over to the chariot. "Almost time."
Our stylists are waiting by the chariot. When we get over there, Jake says, "Time to get on."
Our chariot is charcoal black drawn by two horses of the same color. There are two small steps to get in to the chariot. Keeth and I step up on them. I hear a loud intercom-like voice warn us that we only have one minute. When I look back down, Jake is holding a huge match.
"Ok, we're going to light the synthetic fire. Remember, it won't hurt, won't burn. It's completely safe. Are you guys ready?" he asks us.
"No," I say. "What will the fire do?"
He smirks again. "You'll see in a minute," he says. The voice warns us for thirty seconds. Before I can even protest or say otherwise, Jake reaches over and lights the flame right by my feet. I look at him in exasperation. "Have fun," he teases.
Before I know it, I see the other tribute chariots start going in front of us, and in less than a minute, our horses lurch forward after them. When they do, I almost lose my balance, but Keeth catches me. We smile at each other and then he takes my hand as we go out and flood in to the light.
Screaming. That's the first thing I hear. Screams from the fans around us. When the light quits blinding me, I can take in my surroundings with my eyes.
I was right. Odd looking Capitol people are screaming from all angles around us as our chariot moves. I try to think fast as to what to do. Keeth solves it for me at first. He takes out interlocking hands and raises them up in the air. The people cheer louder.
Then I remember something. The fire. I don't feel it. What's it doing? I look down at where it burns.
Only it's not where it was before. It's moved up my legs. It still seems to be moving, and as it does it looks as if it's… burning away the costume.
My costume is burning away.
I feel slightly alarmed at first, but that's before I realize something else. Even though it's burning away the black, it's leaving something in its place. Something… silver.
My outfit is burning to silver.
When I look over, Keeth's is too. He looks at me with the same confusion that I feel. It's burned up to our waists now. Most people can see it at this point. Because of that, the crowd shrieks louder. Then I remember what I'm trying to be here.
Defiant.
Everything I need to do comes to me in that instant.
Keeth and I still have eye contact, but I nod my head forward. He understands the signal. H looks forward and basically turns his face to stone, hard and undefined. I, on the other hand, give the crowd my highest form of a glare I can muster at this point. Defiance. Defiance is key.
At this point, people are overly excited and throwing hats, streamers, and flowers everywhere. How ridiculous.
A rose comes flying down towards me. When I see it, I snatch it out of mid air and hold it in my hand. Then I think exactly what to do with it.
As the flame creeps up my body and the silver keeps appearing, I stick the head of the rose right in to the fire. When I see it's burning, I hold it up for everyone to see. And then I do something drastic. I throw it over my head and let the burning rose fall in to the runway behind me.
Defiance.
I hear gasps and screams that are indefinable screech out around me. I feel Keeth squeeze my hand a little tighter. I'm not sure what it means.
Finally, our outfits seemed to have almost completely burned away. The fire is up to our necks nearly, but I can't feel anything. Just after it burns away the last of our collars, it does something strange.
The fire, as if it's alive and aware, wraps itself around our bodies and grows to consume our whole body. The flames eventually come around and only cover our back. I can see what it's doing to Keeth out of the corner of my eye so I only can assume it's doing the same to me.
When it's on our backs, it grows tall, high in the air probably double our height. I hear the crowd ooh and ahh around us as it does. Finally, it rolls off of our backs and floats up in to the sky then I hear it make a loud CRACK! like a firecracker and make a flash. And then it disappears.
The crowd goes wild all around us. As our chariot pulls in next to the others, Keeth and I raise our arms high in the air, but we don't smile. Not at all. I feel a sense of victory.
Our chariot pulls up next to the District 11 chariot. I feel all the eyes of the other tributes go to us, but
I don't dare look. I keep my eyes up on the balcony where our wretched president will be standing.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, he takes his place. President Vanasby just has a cold look about him. He has jet black hair that is slicked back against his head and he has a goatee. His suit is black to match with gray pin stripes going up and down. His skin is pale and his eyes are dark. If you didn't know better, you think he looks like a vampire with his sinister smile. I'm not entirely convinced he's not. He does seem blood thirsty after all.
He shushs the hysterical audience with a motion of his hands. When everyone gets quiet, he puts his hands behind his back.
"Tributes," he starts in his chillingly aggravating voice. "We welcome you. We salute your courage and your sacrifice." I mentally scoff at him and give him the piercing glare I've been practicing since we arrived in the Capitol.
He puts his hands out, as if presenting something. "Happy Hunger Games!" he yells.
And I swear he looks directly at me as his mouth curls in to a vicious smile and he says, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."
...
Our chariots get taken off the runway and we're all getting off. All of us tributes are in the same room for the first time. It's the first time we truly get to size each other up in person. It makes me nervous, having all of their eyes on me. At this point, I'm sure everyone's staring at us. There's no way our display from the stylists went unnoticed. I'm not sure if I should thank them for that or not.
I first catch eyes with the girl from District 11. As she steps down from her chariot, she looks over at me and sees me looking at her. She smiles at me, not trying to appear as a threat and gives me an impressed thumbs up. It catches me off guard for a second, but I try to smile back.
The next thing I notice is the boy from District 2. He's not only looking or just glancing at me. He's staring. But it's not a glare, one of hatred or envy or malice. I can't put my finger on it. It looks almost like curiosity. Almost like... recognition? No. It can't be. I try to shrug it off.
I can see a few glares from some of the other tributes, but nothing too menacing. It looks more like envy than hate. No one looks like they want to kill me. Not yet anyway. I'm sure the Capitol will put it up to one of them. The thought makes me shudder.
As I step off the chariot, I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure no one's watching me. I don't watch where I'm going and suddenly, I crash in to someone. I can only determine that it's a boy after I see him for a split second before I lose my balance and fall backwards. Instead of falling and hitting the ground hands catch me on my waist. His hands.
I reach out and hold on to his arms while his hands stay on my waist. My stomach flutters for a second out of embarrassment. I look up to see who it was I ran in to and who it was who caught me. Then I realize who it is.
It's the boy from District 3, the one who stood out to me in the reaping. The one who drew me in with only is gaze that screamed trust.
My breath leaves me. His hands slip around my waist on to my back as he pulls me back up to my feet. When we're standing again, I see he's much taller than me. We still kind of hold on to each other for an extra minute, mostly me out of the need to be steady. I find it hard for me to break my gaze up at him.
Finally, he smiles at me. "Careful," he says as he gently pulls his hands away from my waist. I let go of his arms. Without another word, he walks away.
I stand there like an idiot until Keeth comes over. He looks bewildered. "What was that?"
I feel my cheeks turn red. "I don't know..." I stutter. "I fell and... and he just..." I fall silent.
He shakes his head. "Don't falter like that," he tells me. He puts his hand on my back and starts guiding me away from the chariot. "Come on," he says. "Time to go."
