For the last time, I'm woken by Maximus rapping on my door. "Wakey-wakey, darling! Come on, your prep team will be waiting! When you're dressed run along so you can be made up. I'll send up some food since you won't have time for breakfast."
I shower and clean my teeth, then I dress in a plain shirt and trousers. I leave my hair loose. There's no point tying it back if I'm just going to have it redone.
Spindle comes to collect me. She smiles. "Good morning. Today won't be too exciting. Just us making you look wonderful so you make an impression. Not that you haven't already, with that score of yours and you and your brother being such a winning pair with the Capitol."
"They really like us?" I ask as we make our way down to the Remake Centre.
Spindle nods. "Oh, yes. Of course they do. They'll lap up anything that's not the norm or might cause drama. It's rare for there to be a sibling pair in the Games. I've already seen posters up advertising Panem's Favourite Siblings."
My prep teams greets me with many hugs and squeals. Luna's hair is now a bright silver, I'm assuming to stay true to her name. She brushes my hair from my eyes, cups my face in her hands, and says, "Oh, we're going to make you look stunning!"
I almost consider asking Spindle to stay so I'm not alone with my prep team. They babble on about the strangest of things. Serena retells the story of how she almost had a panic attack because she couldn't find her bright purple false eyelashes, which she needed for a friend's party or something. Demetrius tells me that he couldn't wait to tell all his friends what a wonderful tribute he had the pleasure of remaking. I smile awkwardly, unsure of how to respond.
I'm covered in pale makeup, which feels odd. I don't like looking down at myself and not seeing the olive tan that's so common back home. Luna brushes my hair until it falls down my back in a silky curtain, then ties a section of it back. She slicks the rest up with gel and moulds it so I have what seems like an abnormally large lock of hair falling down the side of my face. Demetrius carefully outlines my eyes in dark blue.
"I wanted to do black, but Spindle said it would be too harsh," he says, sticking his tongue out slightly as he finishes with the eye pencil. "Personally, I think you'd look lovely with black eye pencil. Very similar to coal. I wonder what they're doing with your brother?"
I nod slightly, and Serena flaps at me.
"Don't move!" she screeches. "I almost smudged your blush!"
I sigh as she adjusts the powder on my cheeks, then adds some to my eyelids. A coat of pink lip gloss, some glittery polish on my nails, and finally a layer of silver powder that makes my entire body sparkle in the light. I'm given warnings not to touch my eyes unless I want makeup in them.
Spindle comes in with a bag containing my outfit. She flaps at my prep team until they step back, then commands me to shut my eyes.
Someone slips the dress over my head. It's lined with a soft, silky fabric and it's fairly light. I stumble into a pair of shoes, which thankfully don't seem to have heels. Some adjusting. Fidgeting. Silence.
"You can open your eyes now." I can hear the smile in Spindle's voice.
A mirror has been placed before me. I inhale sharply. I'm not quite sure if the girl I'm looking at is me.
I'm wearing a pale blue dress that falls just to my knees. The sleeves stop just below my elbows and are made from a sheer blue material decorated with sequins. My shoes are flat and white, and I'm so glad I don't have to risk wearing heels again.
I look young. Much younger than my fourteen years. But at the same time, I look more grown-up than ever.
"Oh Spindle," I whisper. "Oh, Spindle. I feel like a princess."
"You look like one," says Serena, her voice hushed. "They're going to love you."
We meet with the rest of the District 12 group at the elevator. Ember looks handsome in a black suit and red shirt embroidered with orange and yellow thread.
"Fire and ice!" cries Maximus, clapping his hands. "How very clever!"
I take my brother's hand and whisper in his ear. "You're a real ember now."
He smiles and strokes the top of my head, being careful not to mess up my hair. "I know."
Haymitch and Bailey look good, too. Haymitch wears a simple black suit with a charcoal-coloured shirt. He keeps tugging at the collar, a scowl on his face. Bailey's in a silvery dress and matching shoes, her hair falling in soft waves down her back.
All forty-eight tributes are led onstage to wait to be called for their interview. I don't let Ember's hand go, even when we're seated and our palms are slick with sweat.
Caesar Flickerman's hair and makeup are green this year. Last year he was yellow, and I can't help thinking of vomit as I compare the two.
Each tribute is called up. Rouge wears a deep red dress and lipstick. She saunters her way onstage and notes how she can't wait to get her hands on some knives. She seems both sexy and deadly, and I shudder.
A boy from Three says he's constantly calculating his odds, which earns a laugh from the audience. I wonder how he thinks he'll fare in the Games.
A boy from Eight says he's amazed as always, at the work of the stylists. "With so many more tributes this year, what they've done is remarkable!" he says, and Caesar nods in agreement.
The girl from Ten, the one who was smiling at her Reaping, looks eye-catching in a gold gown that offsets her brown skin. She's mysterious and elusive, but slightly smug.
The interviews go for over two hours before they get to us. Bailey is called up, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. My legs are tingling.
Caesar and Bailey joke about for a bit, playing off her fun personality. She says how the food here is enough to feed the whole district, and she's scraped off at least three layers of skin in the shower alone. She then has a laugh with Caesar, discussing the different colours of skin seen here in the Capitol. She says she thinks the showers have turned her a lovely dusty rose tint. When Caesar mentions Willow, she makes an effort not to look upset.
"If I win, I'll have to make sure I bring her home a pot of melted chocolate," she laughs, but her voice is shaky.
Haymitch's personality plays off of her beautifully. He does his best to be as rude as possible… but he doesn't really need to try.
"So, Haymitch," says Caesar. "With one hundred percent more tributes, what do you think of your odds?"
"Well, they're going to be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds are roughly the same," Haymitch replies.
Then my name is called and I have to let go of Ember's hand. I wipe the sweat off on my dress. I make my way quickly to my seat, and a hush falls over the crowd. As I sit, I hear my blood pounding in my ears.
"Hello, Melia." Caesar greets me with a smile.
I force my lips to turn upwards. Don't panic, I think. Don't panic. This is the most crucial part.
"Hello," I whisper.
"How are you finding the Capitol? It's quite a change from District Twelve, I'm sure," he says.
I take a deep breath. "Yes, it's definitely different. It's certainly a lot brighter and louder, but I love the food."
He laughs. "Yes, well, that seems to be mentioned a lot by tributes. What about the clothes? Your reaping dress was lovely, if I might add."
"Thank you," I smile. Now that I'm talking I feel a lot more confident. "Well, once I found out my stylist Spindle was from Eight –" the cameras turn to her "- I knew I was in safe hands. I mean, look at this!" I gesture to my dress. "And my brother, Ember, he's in a lovely red and black suit. We're like fire and ice."
Caesar beams, then places a hand on mine. "So on the subject of your brother, what do you think will happen in the arena? Being from District Twelve, you're obviously a target."
A lump forms in my throat. I swallow. "Well, being brother and sister, we're obviously going to be allies. And Bailey too, she's my best friend. But I know Ember will do everything he can to keep me safe. He always has. I was bullied once by these boys when I was younger, and I remember he came up and punched one of them." The audience laughs, and I see Ember smile. "But he'll protect me, and I'll do the same."
The crowd sighs and I see people actually dabbing at their eyes. Caesar nods. "I imagine you will." The buzzer goes off, signifying the end of my interview. "Unfortunately we're out of time. Best of luck to you Melia Cressview, tribute of District Twelve!"
The cheers and claps from the crowd carry me back to my seat. Ember is called up and he smiles at me as we pass each other.
He flashes the audience a winning smile. Of course, he's likeable. The protective older brother. Charming and kind. He sits back in his chair, totally at ease.
"Oh, I see what your sister means. Fire and ice! And a very clever twist on your name too, I bet," says Caesar.
My brother nods. "Definitely. Our stylists did a wonderful job. I mean, look at my baby sister. I didn't realise she was quite so pretty." As the cameras find me again, I give a shy smile. The crowd awws at Ember's comment. He's definitely milking the situation for all it's worth.
Caesar nods in agreement. "She looks lovely. But I must ask. I don't think we've had siblings in the same Games before. What do you think your strategy will be?"
Ember thinks for a moment. "I think we'll get out of there as quickly as possible, and then stick together."
"Of course. But Melia said you'd do everything to keep each other safe. Do you think that's true?"
He nods. "Of course it is."
"What if it comes down to the two of you? What happens then?"
Ember goes quiet for a few seconds. "That's hard, because obviously I want to keep her safe. She's my little sister, the only one I'm certain I care about. I'd take a spear to the heart for her if I had to. But I know it'll be completely different in the arena. Self preservation and survival instincts will kick in. I want to stay alive, too, and that makes things difficult."
Caesar presses his lips together. "I bet it does. On a slightly happier note though. Tell us about that training score. Eight! What do you think of your odds now?"
"Oh, it's like Haymitch says. I get the feeling my odds are roughly the same. The weaker players will be picked off first, alliances will be formed early, with the only difference being there'll be more to target. But I'm fast, and I've got allies. So don't count me out!"
"Oh, I won't," Caesar reassures him, then the buzzer goes. "Best of luck, Ember Cressview, tribute from District Twelve!"
Ember waves at the crowd, grinning all the way back to his seat. We all stand for the anthem. His fingers lock in mine, and he doesn't let go until we're in the elevator.
That night, I struggle to find sleep. My brain flicks back forth between the interviews and the Games.
I didn't realise she was quite so pretty.
Will there be snow? Fog? Trees? Water?
I want to stay alive too, and that makes things difficult.
Swamp? Desert? Rocks?
He'll protect me, and I'll do the same.
There's no point dwelling on what comes tomorrow. I roll onto my back, breathe deeply. Stare at one point on the ceiling. The partying in the Capitol slowly dies down, and eventually my eyelids grow heavy. I yawn, roll onto my side, and close my eyes.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring?
When I wake again, it's before dawn and Spindle is whispering that I need to get up. How much sleep have I had? Four hours? Five?
Spindle smiles at me and gives me a plain outfit to wear, then takes me to the roof. No time for breakfast today. At least, no time for food in the Training Centre.
As I step onto the ladder that drops down from the hovercraft, I'm frozen in place. I briefly consider panicking, but I'm lifted into the hovercraft and a woman approaches me.
"This is your tracker, Melia. Hold still, please," she says. Not that I can move anyway.
She holds up a needle and injects something into my arm. Then the ladder releases me, and Spindle is retrieved from the roof.
A girl directs us to a room where breakfast has been laid out. I don't feel like eating, but Spindle manages to coax a plate of stew and grain into me.
"Come on Melia," she says. "You've got to eat something. Who knows how scarce food will be?" Her voice is much softer than usual, and I try my best to force down another plate of stew and several slices of bread.
Once we land, we go back down the ladder to the catacombs beneath the arena. As we head to the Launch Room, it occurs to me that my blood could be splattered across the ground in less than an hour, my body collected by a hovercraft to be cleaned and sent home. No. I refuse to believe that.
I shower and clean my teeth, my thoughts wandering to Ember. What's he thinking about? What the arena might contain? What his strategy might be? I just hope he's not as nervous as I am.
Spindle parts my hair in two braids down my back and smiles softly as she helps me into my clothes. It's mostly heavy clothing. Grey trousers and coat, a soft blue singlet and a white shirt. The socks are thick and warm, with white leather boots worn over the top. Spindle pulls my mother's necklace from my coat.
"I expect you'll see a lot of cold weather in the arena," she says, rubbing the coat's material between her fingers. "In that case, find a source of heat and shelter. You don't know how long you'll be in there. If it's cold you won't want to be suffering from frostbite before you win."
"You really think I can win?" I whisper.
"Really truly," she replies.
A pleasant female voice announces "Fifteen seconds to launch" and my throat tightens.
"I can't," I say, suddenly overcome with fear.
"Yes you can, Melia."
"No. No, I can't. I can't do this. I'm not ready!"
I step back onto the launch plate and Spindle cups my face in her hands.
"Ten seconds to launch."
"Melia, you have to stay calm. If you panic, you might as well not even try. You're not going to die. Remember, find Ember and Bailey and get away from the Cornucopia."
"Five seconds to launch."
Tears fill my eyes as Spindle leans forward and plants a gentle kiss on my forehead. A glass tube descends from the ceiling, cutting me off from her. She smiles and taps her fingers beneath her chin. Head high. She mouths something. You can do this.
Then I'm being pushed up in the launch tube, into darkness. There's a small circle of light above me that gets bigger by the second.
I'm blinded momentarily as the plate clicks into place.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Fiftieth Hunger Games begin!"