I lie in the large bathtub, staring at the ceiling until my prep team come back and deem me pretty enough to be seen in public. I've been waxed and buffed until my skin shines and my hair has been covered in some sort of gunk that's supposed to make it glossy.
The bath water is a soft lilac colour and filled with flowers that give off a pleasant, if slightly sickly, aroma. I hold my breath and submerge my face in the water. I wonder what would happen if I drowned in here. Would they replace me? Would they send in the shaking twelve year old who I volunteered for? Or would a different volunteer take my place? Maybe they would make Cato go in alone and not bother with a girl tribute from District Two. It's possible that they're watching me right now, and if I don't come up for air soon some silly Capitol attendant will rush to my aid. This seems like the most likely of the options. The thought makes me queasy. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen in my lungs.
I get so distracted by my thoughts that I almost do drown and when I sit up I'm spluttering and gasping for breath. The air in the room is thick and moist from the bath's heat so I'm glad when my prep team return to take me somewhere else.
There are three people in my prep team; all of them typically over the top in both their fashion sense and their attitudes to life. One of them, a young woman with a violet wig and butterfly tattoos next to her eyes, was complaining about having to reschedule her skin dying appointment because the parlour had run out of turquoise ink. Oh, the agony!
While the woman, who I learn is called Felicity, paints my nails a sparkly golden colour with some foul smelling polish she tries to make idle chit chat with me.
"You know I think you can win!" She says excitedly, "Because well, Clovers are lucky aren't they, and you're called Clove so, I figure the odds are definitely in your favour!" Felicity looks very impressed with her comparison of my name to a good luck charm. In fact she looks so beside herself that despite her ridiculousness I can't bring myself to dash her hopes.
"Oh yes," I try to put some enthusiasm into my voice but it still comes out flat and sarcastic. Felicity doesn't notice. After some more beauty regimes I'm left alone to wait for my stylist.
The tribute parade is the first time the Capitol audience really get a look at us, so each tribute has a stylist who is supposed to make them unforgettable. It's traditional for the tributes to be dressed in an outfit that reflects the industry of their district. These outfits are not usually very flattering.
In District Two our primary industry is training the Peacekeepers who police our country, but this is confidential information as the Peacekeepers are believed to have a strictly Capitol pedigree, so the industry we have to dress up as is our secondary industry – masonry. The outfits aren't as awful as many of the other districts' but they're not great. Although I suppose any outfit designed by someone from the Capitol is going to have its flaws.
My stylist is a short man whose hot pink hair is tied back with a velvet bow. His nose has been altered surgically in a failed attempt to make him more attractive and his prep team clearly need to go a little easier with his blush.
The man introduces himself as Salazar and starts to ramble on about the look he's been going for in his designs. To be honest I don't really care as long as it's not too hideous. I don't say this though; I just stand in silence until he's done talking.
After surveying the prep team's work; Salazar dresses me in a tight fitting gold dress made of slippery, shiny material. He then adds a large, gold plated neckpiece which is uncomfortably heavy and completes the look with a gold, winged helmet to match.
When I get to the stable where our chariots are housed, I see that Cato is dressed in a similar outfit and is stood next to Brutus, Enobaria and Louella. He looks relieved when I arrive and my heart leaps like always as he leans in to kiss me. I don't get my kiss though because Brutus slaps Cato on the arm and snaps "Stop that. You're a Victor not a lover,"
I don't know what Brutus means by this, nor is Cato actually a Victor; there are still twenty-three people he must kill to gain that status. One of them is me. I pinch my leg to bring my thoughts back to the present.
Louella is slating the other District's outfits a little too loudly for my liking so I'm glad when it's time for us to get in our chariots. It won't do good to have other tributes angry at us before we've even started training.
Cato gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before our chariot heads out into the crowd. The lights temporarily blind me but soon enough the thousands of Capitol citizens come into focus; their strange fashions turning the sea of people into a multi-coloured rainbow. Their cheers reverberate in my ears and I find myself giggling with the thrill of it. Some people are even screaming our names and I throw my hands up to the sky, dizzy with my brief fame. Cato catches my eye and grins at me. The commentator, Claudius Templesmith, is saying something but I can't hear him over the roar of the crowd.
When our chariot reaches the end of the parade I turn my head to see the other tributes' outfits. Most are adequate at best but the last chariot is causing a fresh wave of excitement from the audience.
In the distance the District Twelve chariot glows brightly. I can't understand why until it gets closer and I see that the tributes themselves are actually on fire. At least, they appear to be, but they're not getting burnt. The audience loves them, whooping and begging for their kisses.
"The girl on fire!" I hear Claudius shout over the cheers. Something boils up inside me as I watch the Fire Girl's face, smiling and beautiful. The thing threatening to boil up casts a scowl on my face.
Jealousy.
