Freedom Remmington, District 11
"You're joking, right?" I ask nervously. "Please tell me this is a joke."
My insane escort, Paprika, giggles so loudly and annoyingly that I think my ears might start bleeding. She shoves the death trap shoes at me, forcing me to put them on my poor feet. "Not at all, silly! Go on, put the heels on! You'll look gorgeous!"
Not one exclamation point was exaggerated in those last few remarks made by my ridiculous escort.
As I attempt to place these pointy heels on my feet, I ponder about Paprika. Seemingly everything about this woman is ridiculous, from her fashionable pink head down to her sparkly turquoise toenails. She strangles her body everyday by wearing those daring heels that could kill and those skin tight clothes.
I think I'd rather be in the Games than live in the Capitol for longer than I'm already allotted. I am not going to lie; the food here is marvelous. I literally marvel at the courses ordered on a normal day. But I wouldn't live here if I had a choice. Between the bewildering fashion and entertainment, I would choose anywhere else, even District 11 who disowned me.
No one wants the sickly little girl from 11 except one place that is continually inviting me over and over in my nightmares. The arena. I can't stop thinking about it. Will it be to my advantage, or disadvantage? There's no way to know until I step foot in there tomorrow morning. These days are flying by at a rate incomprehensive to me.
"Now walk," Paprika orders when the heels are strapped onto my feet.
I take a deep breath and focus on walking straight. We are in the confines of my room, but I still feel as if I'm in real danger.
The moment I look down to steady my balance, Paprika screeches like a banshee.
"No, no, no! Eyes up!"
I keep my eyes trained on a point on the far wall. Heel to toe, I strut to the other side of the room as smoothly as possible. Paprika watches like a hawk ready to strike. She helps me, or screams at me rather, until I get the hang of these deadly shoes. I walk for miles in my bedroom before my escort allows me a water break.
When walking is mastered, Paprika drags me to the wretched wardrobe. At first, I am terrified that all the outfits I am scheduled to try on will be as horrendous as the outfits some Capitol people wear. But when I observe the elegant gowns Paprika throws at me, I decide that they aren't half bad. In fact, I find I almost enjoy trying on all different dresses and spinning around in them.
Paprika selects about fifteen dresses for me to try on. My stylist has a lot of material to work with, but he first needs sizes and the like. That's where this comes in. If I find a certain fabric and size that I like the best, my stylist will work off that.
The first few dresses are simple beauties. I don't like the extremely long trains because they deterred me from dancing and twirling at free will. We quickly eliminated all other gowns with long skirts. That limited our choices down to nine dresses.
To my preference, we also tossed all dresses with jewels, gems, or other unnecessary accessories decorated on them. I hate the feeling of being dragged down by the heavy weight of the precious gems, and the light reflected too brightly for my taste. Down to two dresses.
One is a muted yellow color and the other is cerulean blue. Both have a quiet aura of pulchritude surrounding them, but I choose the yellow one over the blue one. The length of the skirt is perfect, falling right beneath my knocking knees. The material is lighter than a feather but elegant at the same time. The sleeves are short and the neckline isn't too low for comfort. I feel like a royal princess, lovely and fair.
The dress is absolutely perfect. I wish I could convince my stylist to let me wear this for the interviews instead of anything else. Even Paprika agrees with my choice.
She gently combs my long, auburn hair with her fingers, bringing a few stray curls in front of my thin shoulders and sweeping the rest back. "The yellow contrasts beautifully with your hair, and the size is perfect. I thought it would take longer to find something for someone as tiny as you, but it hardly took any time at all!"
I smile in genuine thanks to my escort. No matter how crazy she is, Paprika has become a true friend to me. Somewhere between the chiffon and satin skirts, we bonded and have become close friends. I know that she will be convincing all her friends to sponsor me. She even said so herself. That's when I knew she is really on my side throughout my journey here.
I check the time. It's nearly time for the interviews to start. Without a stable mentor, for Zipporah has gone off the edge with her precious drugs, Forest and I haven't got anyone to talk about for strategies. I figured I would just answer the interviewer's questions as honestly as possible and have as much fun as possible. That's what this is about, right? The interviews are just for fun and for advertising for sponsors. That is what I continue to tell myself whenever the nerves come back to flutter like butterflies in my stomach.
"Oh, my!" Paprika exclaims. "It's time to go! Quick, get Forest and get to the elevator. I need to prepare myself. It seems that we will just have to make do with this dress instead of what your stylist was preparing."
I smile innocently, and then race off to find my district partner. I will get to wear this breathtaking dress after all.
I discover Forest waiting in the dining room of the apartment, sitting and discussing something with his stylist. I wonder where mine went off to. I guess it doesn't matter now. I rouse Forest and we meet Paprika at the elevator.
"You look nice," I comment to Forest as the elevator flies down to ground level. He does look very nice all cleaned up, dressed in a formal tuxedo and a forest green bow tie. His dark hair was combed back, but that's about all the alterations they made. Forest is so naturally handsome that not much tinkering is necessary.
I, on the other hand, took hours of makeup and hair time to get ready. That was taken care of before Paprika forced me into these terrible heels.
Forest grins down at me kindly. Over the past few days, Forest has become like an older brother to me. We already agreed to become allies in the arena, to my great relief. It was a mutual idea for protection.
"Thanks, Free," he says, using my nickname he created. I like it a lot. "You look beautiful yourself."
As beautiful as a scrawny, sickly thirteen-year-old girl can look, I think to myself, but I guess he's right. It's the work of pounds of makeup blended together and five-inch heels to make me look more mature. Of course, on the inside, I'm still that little girl from 11.
Paprika hurries us down to the stage and we line up with the other tributes. We are the last ones to arrive, with moments to spare. Just as Paprika wishes us good luck and is ushered off stage, the lights dim, the crowd roars to life, and my heartbeat picks up the pace.
All of the tributes, in a single file line, walk onto the stage and sit in our designated seats. The interviewer, Washington Heatherette, or Wash for short, prances on stage and warmly welcomes the audience to the very first Quarter Quell.
The show begins as the District 1 girl steps up to the spotlight.
A/N: The answer to last chapter's question (where did the "twenty seconds of courage" quote come from?) is We Bought a Zoo, one of my personal favorite movies. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as I had fun writing it. The highly-anticipated Quarter Quell is approaching!