I was woken up by a large bell, dinging at us to get up and have breakfast. It wasthe last thing I want to do, but I reluctantly rose out of bed and threw on my dressing gown. My hair was a mess, but there was no point in sorting it out. After breakfast, the stylists were going to style us. Mama had once told me about what her experience with them was like, that they wax your entire body and soften your skin. It didn't sound so bad, but she shuddered remembering.

Everyone had breakfast separately. The people from each district. I would be sitting with Lola to eat, while our stylists prepared our outfits. I was worried about our stylist, what if Freya asked them to make us truly hideous? I felt a sudden burn of hatred for the new president. They called her "a president" but no one voted for her, there was no democracy, so why does she get to tell us what to do? Why did she even rule in the first place?

I run downstairs for breakfast. Lola is sitting down, chewing on her egg. I noticed she wasn't using cutlery, she was eating it with her hands. She noticed me looking at her and quickly dropped her egg on the plate and grabbed hold of her fork. I assumed she was so used to her life on the streets, she hadn't been introduced to the simple table manners in a long time. This may sound slightly amusing, but I had no laugh to stifle. Even though I had never been forced to live on the streets, I understood everything that she was going through, so I also got some bacon and eggs and sat opposite her. There was a silence lurking, and it was quite melancholy, so I thought this would be a good time to bring something up.

"I wonder who our mentor will be. Regularly I would think the son of Haymitch, but he's competing with-"

"Against." she corrected.

"Sorry, competing against us."

"That's a good question." I think that was the first time she had agreed with me for anything. "I'm not sure we even will get a mentor, most of victors to this day are dead, but who knows?" she struggled to eat with her cutlery, she wasn't used to it.

"You can use your hands, I don't mind."

"No, I have to get used to doing this."

"If anything, eating with your hands is better in preparing for the Hunger Games. There won't be any silverware in the Hunger Games." she seemed to consider the idea, but then shook her head. "In fact, I should be preparing too." I dropped my cutlery on the table, grabbed a piece of bacon and munched on it while she stared at me in disbelief.

But soon, she was doing it too. My home self would be appalled by my strange behaviour, but sometimes you have to adapt to be able to survive different surroundings. We ate until our plates were nothing but crumbs and then someone came to collect us to have our prep team give us a makeup.

I was taken into a completely white room. White walls, white floor, white sink, white bath, everything was white. Three different women came in. Each one looked very bizzare. One was died pea green, one was covered in golden tattoos and one had her up so high, it was about six inches long. I assumed this was my prep team long before they had time to stare at me. They whispered among themselves before speaking to me at last.

"Well, you're in good shape, very pretty, and we like your hair." one piped, nodding their head in approval. "But we need to see the rest of you. I apologise if this makes you uncomfortable, but would you please take off your gown?"

I expected them to ask this, however as I took it off, I still felt embarrassed. They examined me briefly before chatting among themselves again. Even though they seemed nice, I was worried about what they'd think of me. Finally, one told me what they thought they should do to me before my stylist showed up.

"A simple hairdo would work well with your style. A touch of blush would make your cheeks stand out slightly more. Your legs could use a shave." one said bluntly.

They waxed my legs, painfully ripping each one off as I gritted my teeth in attempt to stifle the pain. Sometimes I did have to let out a yelp. When they were done, I hardly recognised them. They were absolutely immaculate, however words couldn't describe how vulnerable I felt. They gave my entire body a small spray of something called, "Honey Glow". I managed to catch myself in a mirror, noticing how pretty I looked. My hair was very simple. Two braids starting from the front, meeting in the middle of the back of my head and making a small ponytail. They added some rose blush to my cheeks and then the look was complete, they let me put my gown back on. They circled around me with smiles on their faces.

"How can the audience not fall for you? You look divine!"

"Thank you." I smiled. "Do you know when I can see my stylist?"

"He is coming as we speak! Our work is done!" they said in unison and trutted out of the door.

My stylist came about a minute after they walked out. He was wearing a black leather jacked and jeans. His expression was stern.

"You must be Kayla." he said. "Welcome. Please follow me."

I followed him out to a garden outside. It was very pretty, with different flowers all around us. There were cherry blossom trees all around, pink petals fluttering down as if to greet us. Robins flew all around us, chirping loudly a sweet song. There was a pleasant atmosphere, but I wondered why he would lead us to this place.

"I go here when I need some time alone. No one hears anything over the chirps of the robins."

"Of course."

"You will steal the audience. You will make Freya think twice about messing with you and your family. No one will ever forget you." he spoke fast.

"Yes, sir."

"Don't call me sir, call me by my real name, Cinna."

"Cinna?!" I gasped. Mama had mentioned Cinna to me many times. She said he was very good person, always helping her, and that she may not have won the Hunger Games if it weren't for him.

"After my uncle, who's now dead because of those stupid Gamemakers. He got himself killed to save your mother, you know. President Snow had ordered him to make her wear a wedding dress for the interview in the Quarter Quell. He did put her in it, only with a twist. He made it so that when she twirled, it turned into a stunning Mockingjay outfit. The audience fell for her, but afterwards they killed him right in front of her." he sighed. "I will continue his work, and give you something more exquisite than any other stylist could even imagine, let alone make!"

I froze, speechless. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out, so I just nodded.

"So, I checked, and the opening ceremony is taking place on dead grass. The flower crown really suited you in the reaping, so I thought I would develop this idea." he smirked slightly. "I hope you have no allergy to pollen."