Author's Note: Yay! We've gotten so far! I hope you enjoy the chapter before the Arena. I will warn you: this chapter is pretty PG-13.
Chapter 10: Stupid
That was really stupid of me. Really, really stupid of me.
"What were you thinking Giovanni?"
I shrug, slouched down in the chair, hands covering my eyes. "I don't know."
It's the night before the real fun begins, the real reason why I've been sent to this ridiculous city. The interviews have just ended and I'm still dressed in the sparkling silver and white get-up Rhapsody put me in. It's nice, I guess, but not me at all. The tight button-up shirt and pants are fit more for a carefree Capitolite loverboy than an animal herder from District Ten.
Funny how what I look like in my interview matters when I could die tomorrow. The Capitol is really starting to rub off on me.
A few more strands of hair fall to the ground. Rhapsody is going for a "rugged party animal" look. I threw a fit about her hacking away at my hair, but during the interview, the audience seemed to love my new look.
About my interview, well…let's just say Radiance really hates me now. And Esteban. And all of District One probably.
"Is it true?" Something in Rhapsody's voice makes me look up.
"Is what true?"
Now it's her turn to shrug. "You know. You two."
"Of course not. We've barely said two words to each other. It was all for show."
What does it matter to you? is what I'm thinking. I keep the thought locked shut in my mind.
Pearly whites shine in the ultra-bright styling room. "Good. She isn't much to look at for a District One tribute anyhow."
I cast her comment aside and ask her a serious question, looking her dead in the eyes through the mirror's reflection.
"How much chance do you think I have, honestly?"
She stops cutting my hair and looks to the side. "Well, uh…" she starts, thinking of what to say to a dead man walking. "You've moved up in the polls and after that stunt you pulled at the interviews tonight, you'll definitely be on everyone's radar."
She gives me an encouraging smile and quickly goes back to cutting. It's true; the audience and, more importantly, sponsors will be all over the fabricated story I made up while walking up to the platform stage. We'll see how well my plan worked out tomorrow.
Three more swipes of the sharp silver scissors and I'm whirled around to face the end result of Rhapsody's experimentation.
"All done. You like?"
I look older, harder, like serious competition. Rhapsody has enhanced all of my masculine, strong features without the help of a surgeon's knife, which I'm more than thankful for (I've seen the end results of tributes visiting Capitol doctors).
I give her a genuine smile. "Thank you."
She blushes a little, then squeezes my shoulders, "Welcome, love. Don't want ya to pull a Jade in the Arena." She gives her signature giggle while I shudder at the bloody image of last year's Victor's near death experience. Now that I think about it, long hair in the Arena would only be a hazard. It was time for a change.
Before I can walk out the door, Rhapsody's voice calls for me again.
"Gigi, darling." Sometime during the few days I've known her, she's developed a nickname for me. She thinks it's adorable. I think it's aggravating. She doesn't seem to care.
"Didn't I tell you not to call me that?" I playfully remind her though I'm serious.
Rhapsody ignores my response and continues. "Meet me on the Training Center rooftop in an hour. Gotta surprise for ya, 'kay?" She tilts her head to the side and waits for the yes she just knows she'll receive.
What does my stylist possibly have for me that's important at one in the morning? A nice pair of shoes? A rabbit's paw to wear around my neck?
I give her a confused look, but agree to it anyway. I should probably be getting as much sleep as I can before the Arena tomorrow, but what the hell.
"Don't be late love. You won't wanna miss it."
When I arrive on the rooftop, it's surprisingly colder than I expected. There are few objects up here, save a few big metal things that I can't begin to assume the use of.
What in the world would Rhapsody want to do up here? I look around and around the massive area almost giving up until I spot the reason why I'm here at a faraway corner. Getting closer, I see the vibrantly dressed teenager sitting at the edge of the rooftop, swinging her legs lazily in the air, humming a tune like she doesn't have a care in the world. If only I could say the same about myself.
"Isn't it dangerous to be that close to the edge?" I stand behind, raising my eyebrows in amusement. When she turns around, her perfect teeth rival the brightness of the Capitol down below.
"Nope. There's a force field in case anyone tries to off themselves before going into the Games. Happens all the time," she casually lets me know, her strong Capitol accent turning the statement into a question. I try to hide my grimace. How can she be nonchalant over the thought of children killing themselves to escape a much worse death?
Blue nails clink the metal floor, signaling me to sit. "Come, come. The view's nicer from over here."
Cautiously, I make my way to the edge of the building, scooting close to Rhapsody out of fear of plunging to my death, no matter what she said about a force field.
She was right; the view from where we sit is incredible. Buildings nearly topple each other, but not quite blocking the view of the dark, jagged mountains that surround the Capitol. The excitement the vibrant city held during our arrival seems to have multiplied, almost smelling the food and champagne all the way up here.
I look out of the corner of my eyes to see Rhapsody staring at me. Her unnaturally gold eyes survey me like a cat who's stumbled upon a nice, defenseless mouse.
Eager. Curious. Hungry.
She refuses to look away even after I make it apparent I know she's staring at me, so I scoot away from her, uncomfortable with how my stylist is blatantly drooling over me. Doesn't she have a party to attend or a drunken one-night-stand to have?
"How does it feel?" She breaks the silence, instantly closing the distance between us again so she's closer to me than before. My luck with women, I swear.
I shoot her a look of disapproval. She stays her ground. "How does what feel?"
"Being a tribute."
"Aren't you Capitolites too worried about what color to dye your eyelashes to care about us lowly tributes?" I say jokingly but totally serious. I always thought we were nothing more than actors in a very bloody horror film to the Capitol. What would make any of them now care about anything else but themselves when for the past 60 years they've been loyal to the thing that's torn the districts apart?
She speaks cheerfully. "I've always wondered. That's why I wanted to be a stylist in the Hunger Games. To get to know you guys."
"We're human, just like you," I start off angrier than I mean to. Rhapsody doesn't see me as a person, but a shiny new toy she wants to play with. "We have families, friends, loved ones waiting for us to return. But twenty-three of us won't. Twenty-three children will die, Rhapsody, children. When the cannon fires, it's over. This isn't a game. This is real life."
When I finish, I'm shocked by my own voice. Since when did I get so pathetic and defeated? This is not the mentality of a Victor, not at all.
She stammers. Wasn't expecting that kind of response were you? "I-I never knew it was like that. I thought tributes found the Games fun."
My incredulous look makes her instantly rethink her statement, but it's too late. "Fun Rhapsody? Fun? Here, let's trade places. Tomorrow, you can be thrown into the bloodbath while I pick out what color suits you best during your Victory Interview. Green or pink, love?" I mock her, sneering at her constant use of stupid pet names.
She folds her arms, having the audacity to try and use an authoritative tone with me. "You can't talk to me like that."
My harsh laugh makes her jump a bit. "I'm sorry. Did I offend the little Capitolite?"
In a second, the authority in her voice is replaced with the whininess of a spoiled brat. "You're mean, you know that?"
"You wouldn't be all sunshine and lollipops if you were going into the Hunger Games either, chica."
She gives a final Hmph! before scooting far away from me. Deflating and feeling all the previous anger wash away, I give a heavy sigh and find myself apologizing when I was just telling her how I felt. You asked, so I told. Sorry if it wasn't to your liking.
"I'm terrified, okay?" I tell her, answering her original question and trying to start the conversation back up again.
Turning around, her half-purple, half-black hair blows in the wind that's starting to pick up. "How about the girl?"
I assume she's talking about Sofia. "Don't know, don't care. I've tried to have as little conversation with her as possible."
Part of that is a lie: while I only say a few words to my district partner at dinner, I have been wondering how she's coping. If anything, no doubt she's worse off than me since she's surely a bloodbath.
It goes quiet again, and the awkward feeling returns. I feel like I've said too much to this Capitolite. She can't relate to how I feel. She's had everything feed to her with a diamond-studded spoon. This ditzy girl doesn't deserve to know the real me when she's supporting my death, no matter how indirectly she's doing it. How dare she make me feel emotion. How dare she.
After a few more minutes of dead silence, Rhapsody places a finger on her chin and narrows her eyes. She must be thinking about something good because she's beaming from ear to ear when she looks up at me, scaring me all the more when I have no idea what could be so great.
What the golden-eyed girl says next takes me by so much surprise that last week's Reaping seems like a walk in the park.
"Wanna have sex?"
Wait, what? Did she just…huh?
My eyes go wide with shock and embarrassment. I try to hide my blushing, but I know I've failed miserably when I see Rhapsody nearly falling off the edge from laughter. Virgo's the only girl that's ever been that forward, and she was just using me for protection. Not like Rhapsody wants anything deeper.
She rubs my arm, still racked with giggles. "You look so stressed Gigi. Whenever me and my boyfriends are upset, we just do it. It's the remedy to all your problems." Bobbing her head encouragingly, her smile carries not a hint of malice or sarcasm.
She does it again. "Boyfriends?"
"Yep," she nods her head happily. "I've only got three. I know, I know, that's barely any, but having five boyfriends was just too hard. The attention, the presents, the sex. Ugh, why bother?"
I look long and hard at my stylist. This girl is serious. She is absolutely serious. Rhapsody is gorgeous, and cute, and the skintight jumpsuit she's wearing is very distracting…but…but…I can't do this. I hardly know this chick. I'm not about to lose my virginity to some horny Capitol girl who wants a five-minute thrill. I'm worth more than that. No way.
Time to start making excuses.
"I barely know you Rhapsody."
"We'll get to know all about each other in bed, darling."
She scoots closer.
"It's probably not the best idea for a stylist and tribute to date."
"We're not dating, just having fun. No one will know."
She scoots closer.
"Maybe we should wait, you know? The timing isn't right."
A seductive smirk spreads on Rhapsody's lips and she pounces on top of me, literally pinning me down on the cold metal rooftop with her manicured claws. This girl's surprisingly strong for someone who's never had to lift a finger before in her life. Her fangs shine brighter than ever, eyes gleaming as they pour over my body with excitement and lust.
"Time is of the essence for you, sweetie. Literally. Now quit playing around and let's get it on silly."
Dragging me up off the floor, she pushes me out the door and all the way to the District Ten level. Kicking open my bedroom door with incredible strength, thoughts race through my head as my stylist undresses herself.
Oh Panem, this is actually happening!
Esteban would have a riot if he could see me now!
I should really be asleep.
Are all the other tributes getting it on with their stylist right now?
I'm hungry.
And then it happens.
I wake up to the beautiful sight of a half-dressed woman leering over me. This is not what I'm used to seeing first thing in the morning, or ever, but hey I'm not complaining.
"Wakey, wakey, Gigi!"
I try to recollect my thoughts and wonder who the hell this is inches away from my face this early in the morning, then I realize where I am.
The Capitol. Rhapsody. The morning of the Hunger Games. Oh boy.
Smiling back, I give her a kiss, then go into a more passionate one. Maybe I have changed this Capitol girl. Maybe she'll see there's more to us than what they show on television. I've made a difference in her life. I can see it in her eyes.
My stylist squeals and twirls out of bed. Running out the room with a wrinkled dress and heels, I don't even have time to speak before the scantily clad figure is out the door. Just before she leaves, I hear her think aloud for the whole Training Center to hear.
"Oh wait till I tell all of my friends what I just did! Doing it with a tribute! I'll be famous!"
Or maybe not.
The hovercraft ride to the Arena is uncomfortable for three reasons.
The first is the obvious: next stop equals death. There's no getting around that.
Secondly, this is the first time I've ever been inside one. The floating feeling is not helping my stomach any and I'm regretting stuffing my face with so many pastries from breakfast.
Thirdly, Rhapsody still seems to be in Giddy Girl mode, giving me googly eyes and stroking my hand at every chance she gets, ignoring the disapproving looks of the scary white-coated people surrounding us and making me question why out of all people is my stylist the last person I see. I'm a nervous wreck and she seems to be on top of the world.
Well, it beats trying to have a heart-to-heart with Picasso. He's still horrified by my inability identify a fish fork from a salad fork. As if knowing which utensil to use will save my life in the Arena.
When the hovercraft comes to an abrupt stop, I know it's time.
Rushed to the center of the hovercraft now, one of the white-coated figures tells me to stand still. I go to question him when he lifts up my jacket sleeve, but isn't given the chance to when he injects me with a painful stinger. I give him a low growl while he snorts and shoots me an arrogant glare.
Rhapsody walks towards me, still smiling like this is the happiest moment of her life.
"Rhapsody?" I speak, voice shaky and unsteady.
I only had one real conversation with this girl and the majority of it was us arguing and ending with mindless sex, but for some reason, I feel connected to her. Maybe because I like her, or maybe because at this moment, she's my only link to the outside world before I'm thrust into the Hunger Games, but I feel the need to talk to her. I want her to say something, anything, to me to make me feel better about what's about to happen in a few seconds.
"Yah, hun?"
"If I make it out alive, will you and me…?"
A coy smile forms on her face. "We'll see District Ten, we'll see."
This instantly relieves me until I think of another important question.
"Um, where do I use the bathroom in the Arena?"
Rhapsody throws her head back and burst into laughter, causing the others in the hovercraft to roll their eyes. One woman murmurs disapprovingly at the eighteen-year-old girl.
"Out of all the questions you could ask before going into the Hunger Games, and you choose that one." She bursts into more laughter, then controls herself. "You'll still have to pee, babe, but the tracker stops it from coming out the other end."
Before I can respond, a ladder appears and I'm frozen still. Panic sets in but I can't move. Glass surrounds me, and the last thing I see before complete darkness sets in is Rhapsody blowing a kiss.
This is it.
Am I ready?
Not by a longshot.
I hope I captured the personality of a Capitol teenager well enough. Next up: The Arena! Are you ready?