Chapter 9


I was lying in a compromising, extremely vulnerable position. My entire being screamed in protest as I lay like a skinned animal before the prying eyes of my prep team. I wanted to jump up and fight, rip their gross hand off of me and escape the stylist room. But I didn't, I lay still as they did what they did because I had promised Haymitch that I wouldn't fight back—because I promised I would let them do their thing to me no matter what I was feeling.

I was sorely regretting that promise as Venia, a woman with aqua hair and gold tattoos above her eyebrows, yanked a piece of sticky fabric off my leg, taking all the hair off underneath it. But I didn't react, just gritted my teeth as I reminded myself that keeping this part of the promise was going to help with my survival in the arena.

"Sorry!" Venia pipped in her silly Capitol accent. "You're just so hairy!"

I couldn't help wincing in pain once more as her high pitched voice nearly split my skull. All the Capitol people talked the same as far as I could tell. Their voices were high pitched, jaws barely moving as they spoke, the ends of their sentences going up as if they were asking a question every time they talked. Odd words, clipped vowels, and they always spoke with a hiss on the letter s… No wonder it was so easy for people in the Hob to mimic and make fun of them. No wonder Gale and Katniss had been that day of the Reapings… just two days ago.

I suddenly wondered how Gale was dealing with this. Then I mentally punched myself.

No! Don't think of him.

I groaned, I was starting to get a headache.

Venia made what I guessed was supposed to be a sympathetic face. "Don't worry, this is the last one. Ready?"

I nodded and gripped the side of the table I lay on. The final swath of my leg hair was uprooted in a painful jerk.

I had been in the Remake Center for more than three hours and I still hadn't met my stylist. Apparently, he wouldn't even look at me until Venia and the other members of my prep team had addressed some obvious problems, as they had put it.

The obvious problems had consisted of scrubbing my body with a gritty foam that took away not only the first but at least three layers of my skin, turning my nails into uniform shapes, and primarily ridding my body of hair; my legs, arms, torso, underarms, and parts of my eyebrows had all been stripped away with that dratted sticky fabric. After that was done I felt like a plucked bird, ready for roasting.

But, despite how vulnerable I felt, I also felt so incredibly clean. Which was terrifying and elating all at the same time. My whole body tingled in fresh coolness, which almost made up for the pain I had had to endure to get it done. It didn't make up for being naked or having hands all over me though. But I had kept my promise to Haymitch and, so far, no objection had crossed my lips.

"You're doing very well," a guy named Flavius said. He shook his orange corkscrew locks and and then applied a new coat of purple lipstick onto his mouth. "If there's one thing we can't stand, it's a whiner... Grease her down!"

Venia and Octavia, a plump woman who's entire body had been dyed a pale shade of pea-green, began to rub me down with a scented oil. It might have smelt nice, like flowers in the spring, but it was so strong that it just managed to curl my nose hairs (some of the only hairs left on my body) instead. However, the oil felt soothing on my raw skin and I let out the first sound during the full three hours that wasn't full of pain.

Then they motioned me to get down off the table and Flavius ripped off the thin robe I'd been allowed to wear on and off. It was so sudden and so compromising once again that I almost retaliated against him—almost. But I managed to get control of myself at the last second and restrained from strangling him.

I stood completely naked before them as they began to circle me, inspecting every inch of my skin for any imperfection they might have missed. A mild thought passed; that I should be a lot more embarrassed than I actually was. But, it was because they were so unlike actual people that I had been able to keep my promise to Haymitch so well. I was no less self-conscious then if a trio of colorful birds were pecking at my feet.

The three bizarre birds stepped back to admire their work.

"Excellent! You almost look like a normal human being now!" Flavius exclaimed and they all burst out laughing, as if he had said something witty and utterly hilarious.

A sickly sweet smile spread across my face. "Well, thank you. We don't have much cause to look nice in District 12."

Their faces dropped in realization. "Of course you don't, you poor darling!" Octavia gushed, clasping her hands in distress for me.

"Don't worry," Venia added. "By the time Cinna is done with you, you're going to be absolutely gorgeous!"

I felt like gagging.

"We promise! You know, now that we've gotten rid of all the hair and filth, you're not horrible at all!" Flavius said encouragingly. "Let's call Cinna!"

They darted out of the room and I watched them go in slight bewilderment as I found myself finding it hard to hate them. They were just such total idiots. And yet, in an odd way, I realized that they really were sincerely trying to help me… Help me look good for the Games anyway. Fattening the calf before slaughter.

When I was sure that they had left, I grabbed my flimsy robe and pulled it around me. Cinna would probably have me take it off again, and I would have to if I was to keep my word to Haymitch, but I didn't want my naked body to be the first thing that he saw. Which was weird since I normally didn't care what others thought of me. But I was usually think-ing that when I had a protective layer of clothing on.

With my prep team gone and something covering me, I felt my confidence returning. So much so that I had came up with something to say to this Cinna if he told me to take my robe off.

But it instantly fled my mind when a young man entered the room after a few minutes. My stunned brain slowly registered that he must be Cinna. It wasn't that he was even more bizarre than my prep team to stun me speechless, it was because he looked so… normal. Most of the stylists they inter-viewed were so died, stenciled, and surgically altered that they looked grotesque. But Cinna's close cropped hair seemed to be its natural shade of brown and he was clothed simply in a black pair of pants and shirt with a studded gold belt. The only concession to self-alteration seemed to be a metallic gold eyeliner that had been applied with a light hand. It brought out the flecks of gold in his green eyes. And, despite my hate for the Capitol and everything associated with it, I couldn't help think-ing in my shocked state how attractive he looked.

It was only until he smirked that I regained my senses.

"If you think I'm going to take the robe off for you, than you can go to hell!" I spat.

He looked surprised at my outburst, then he smiled. "Nice to meet you too, Terra. I'm Cinna, your stylist," he said in a voice that somewhat lacked the Capitol's affections.

I didn't say anything.

"I won't have you take your robe off, but, may I?" He motioned to me and I nodded cautiously, not wanting to stress my luck so far.

He circled me slowly, not touching me, but taking in every inch of me with his eyes. I looked at him as he did, his pretty eyes were focused, intent in thought as he viewed me, not with the lust like the men at home, but with the interest of an artist. I pulled the robe tighter around me.

I had expected someone flamboyant, someone older trying desperately to look young, someone who viewed me as a piece of meat to be prepared for the platter. Cinna was completely opposite.

"Are you new?" I asked bluntly. "I've never seen you before." Most of the stylists were familiar faces on the Tv, constants in the ever-changing pool of tributes. I'd seen some every year for as long as I could remember.

"Yes, this is my first year in the Games," he replied.

"And they gave you District 12?" Newcomers generally ended up with my district, the least desirable one.

"I asked for District 12," he said and I felt my mouth fall open. Who picked District 12 of his own free will?

"Come on, let's chat for a while."

Since I didn't have much say in the matter anyway, I followed him through a door into a sitting room. Two red couches faced off over a low metal table. Three of the walls were blank, the fourth made entirely of glass, providing a view over the city. I could see by the light that it must be around noon, although the sunny sky had turned overcast. Cinna invited me to sit on one of the couches and took his place across from me. He pressed a button on the side of the metal table and the top of it split. A second tabletop rose from below piled high with our lunch. There was a chicken dish with chunks of oranges cooked in a creamy sauce laid on a bed of pearly white grain, tiny green peas and onions, rolled into the shape of flowers, and for dessert, a pudding the color of honey.

I tried to imagine trying to catch and prepare this type of dinner myself back home. Chickens were too expensive, but I could hunt for wild turkeys. I didn't know where I'd get enough oranges for everyone at the orphan home… Goat's milk could be a substitute for cream, although I had no idea who would trade for it. I would have had to harvest wild onions from the woods, and that would have taken all day in and of itself. I didn't recognize the grain. It was so white I wondered if it was real. As for the pudding, I couldn't even begin to guess what that was made of. Days of hunting and gathering for this one meal and even then it would be a poor substitute for the Capitol version.

What must it be like, I wondered, to live in a world where food appeared at the press of a button? How would I spend the hours I now committed to comb-ing the woods for sustenance if it were so easy to come by? What did they do all day, these people in the Capitol? What did they live for besides decorating their bodies and waiting around for a new shipment of tributes to roll in to die for their entertainment?

I looked up to find Cinna's eyes trained on me. "How despicable we must seem to you," he said.

"Yeah, and disgusting and deformed and selfish and spoiled and cruel." It all came out in a rush so fast that I wasn't able to stop. I shut my mouth though, my eyes growing wide. It was one thing to say hateful things about the Capitol in the confines of the woods, it was quite another to say it right at their heart.

"No matter," Cinna said in a dismissive manner. "So, Terra, about your costume for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Portia, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Gale. And our current thought is to dress you in complementary costumes," he said. "As you know, it's customary to reflect the flavor of the district."

I nodded, trying desperately to get over my shock at blurting those traitorous things out and Cinna dismissing them so abruptly.

For the opening ceremonies, you're supposed to wear something that suggests your district's principle industry. District 11, agriculture. District 4, fishing. District 3, factories, etc. This meant that coming from District 12, Gale and I would be in some kind of coal miner's getup. Since baggy miner's jumpsuits were not particularly becoming, our tributes usually ended up in skimpy outfits with headlamps. One year, our tributes were stark naked and covered in black powder to represent coal dust. It was always dreadful and did nothing to win us favor with the crowd. I prepared myself for the worst, but if he said Gale and I would go naked, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to keep myself from strangling him.

"So, I'll be in a coal miner's outfit?" I asked cautiously.

"Not exactly. You see, Portia and I think that the coal miner thing is very overdone. No one will remember you in that. And we both see it as our job to make District 12 tributes unforgettable," he replied. "So, rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we're going to focus on the coal."

I mentally prepared my apology speech to Haymitch if Cinna said I would be going naked.

"And what do we do with coal?" He waited for an answer but when I didn't provide one he said, "We burn it."

I waited for the punchline, wondering what bizarre costume he was going to make me put on, or if it was going to be a costume at all.

He suddenly smiled in a way that set off warning bells in my head.

"Are you afraid of fire, Terra?"


I stood in front of the mirror, staring at myself dressed in the costume Cinna had designed for me. It would either be the most sensational or most deadly costume in the opening ceremonies ever seen.

I was in a simple black unitard that covered me from ankle to neck. Shinny leather boots laced up to my knees. But it was the fluttering cape made of streams of orange and yellow, red and gold that really captured your attention. The cape and the headpiece were what defined the costume. Cinna planned to light them on fire just before our chariot rolled into the streets.

"It's not real flame, of course, just a little synthetic fire Portia and I came up with. You'll be perfectly safe," he added.

I didn't believe him. I imagined what burning for crimes of witchery at the stake would have be like, thinking that what he had planned wouldn't be much different.

My face had been brushed with a cream that made all my spots and scars magically disappear. Cinna had added a little highlighting here and there, and some black eyeliner lined my eyes, flicking up at the ends artistically. My dark hair was unbound and flowed around my shoulders in a wild way, a little was pulled away from my face and pinned to the side of my head.

"I want the audience to recognize you when you're in the arena," Cinna said, his face morphing into a dreamy state. "Terra, the girl who was on fire!"

His abrupt mood changes unnerved me. One second he would be smirking at my reactions and the next he would be staring off like a loon in some dream land of his own. His calm demeanor masked a complete madman.

"Well, it seems you survived the preparations."

I turned as Gale and his team walked in and my gut clenched. He was dressed the exact same as me, every well defined muscle showed through the tight unitard. His chocolate brown hair and been combed back, but one, rebellious strand fell onto his fore-head. His chiseled jaw seemed even more defined from the black that ended right below it. It didn't seem like they had put any makeup on him. But then I noticed a tiny bit of liner on his eyes, red where mine was black.

I quickly regained control of myself at his severe gaze and smirked. "Of course. I am Terra Hunter. But I am surprised that you made it out with your vocal chords intact, I seem to remember them being very strong when I caught you that time."

His eyes flashed, the red on his lids making him look even more fierce as the memory surfaced. It had had been a normal day hunting in the woods, but it had been broken by my finding Gale screaming his head off in anger at the Capitol. It had been after a public hanging of a man caught selling illegal items. We all did it, of course, he just either hadn't been as careful or pissed the Peacekeepers off.

Suddenly, the room exploded after the uncomfortable silence and congratulations were thrown around as the prep teams chattered over what a splash we'd make. Cinna was praised highly for his design, but he seemed weary as he accepted the thanks, which made me even more confused over him.

Before I knew it, we had been whisked down to the bottom level of the Remake Center, which just seemed to be a gigantic stable. The opening ceremonies were about to start. Pairs of costumed tributes were being loaded into chariots pulled by teams of four horses. Ours were tall and a beautiful coal black. They seemed like they should be powerful steeds, prancing in place as they waited for us to climb into our chariot. But, instead, the mighty looking animals stood in a sedated stare, regal heads dropping and heavy lids closed as they stood silently waiting for the parade to start. Cinna said that the animals were so well trained, no one would even need to guide the reigns.

Cinna and Portia directed us into the chariot and carefully arranged our capes before moving off to consult with each other.

"If we end up burning to death, I'll rip your cape off before you're burnt toast if you rip mine off," I commented through gritted teeth to Gale.

He didn't look at me, but he nodded. "Deal."

"I guess it won't matter anyway though," I continued to talk, not even realizing it. "They're going to throw us into the arena next week anyway."

He shrugged. "I'd rather take my chances in the arena. It's easier to fight things that can be beaten."

I was suddenly reminded of the fire that had raged across the Seam a few years ago. It had killed one of his younger brothers. I suddenly felt bad, I could still hear the screams behind me as I fled for my own skin with two kids in my arms.

No! Don't feel bad for him! You're going to kill him.

I suddenly wondered if he had any of the internal debates that I did. Was he feeling regret at the thought that he might have to kill me?

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. The set jaw, the straight face, the hands clutching the front of the chariot from bent up energy until his knuckles were white.

"If you're scared, you can always hold my hand," I smirked.

"I think you're the one more likely to grab mine, don't look now but you're shaking, Hunter."

I looked down and realized that my hands were shaking. But it wasn't from fear, per say. I looked at his hands clutching the chariot. I was filled with my own bent up energy too, he was just concealing it better.

Before I could come up with an answer, the opening music began to play outside. It was so loud that I was surprised the whole stables weren't shaking. Massive doors began to slide open, revealing the crowd-lined streets. I was determined to keep my head high during the twenty minute ride, ignoring the cheering crowds as we passed. After the ride we would end up in City Circle where they would welcome us, play the anthem, and then escort us into the training center, which would be our home until the Games began. Well, more like our prison.

The tributes from District 1 rode out in a chariot pulled by snow-white horses and, I had to admit, they looked beautiful. Their toned bodies were spray-painted silver and clothed in tasteful tunics lined with jewels, symbolizing the luxury items their district made for the Capitol. You could hear the roar of the crowd. They were always favorites. I gritted my teeth. Capitol pawns. Hopefully Cinna's costume would blow them away.

District 2 got into position to follow them and, in no time at all, we were approaching the door. Looking out, I could see that between the overcast sky and evening hour the light was turning grey. The tributes from District 11 were just rolling out when Cinna appeared with a lighted torch.

"Here we go then," he muttered and, before we could react, he set our capes on fire.

I gritted my teeth, waiting for the heat, but there was only a faint tickling sensation.

Cinna climbed up before us and ignited our headdresses. He let out a sigh of relief. "It works." Then he gently tucked a hand under my chin. I jerked away, but he just smiled. "Remember, heads high, smiles. They're going to love you!"

Cinna jumped off the chariot and then turned back with one last idea. He shouted something to us, but the music drowned him out. He shouted again and gestured.

"What's he saying?" I asked, looking over to Gale for the first time since we were lighted. I felt my throat close up. He was ablaze with fake flames, he looked brilliant. And I realized I must too.

"I—I think he's telling us to hold hands," Gale replied.

"What?!"

I pretended to ignore Cinna as the horses started to roll forward but, then, Haymitch was suddenly there. His severe look bored into me, I could see the alcohol in his eyes, but that didn't mean he knew we were ignoring Cinna, and therefore his instructions.

I glared at him and grabbed Gale's hand and held it up. He started and tried to pull away but I held on. Cinna gave us a thumbs up and Haymitch nodded.

Gale saw him and so stopped trying to rip his hand away, but it tightened to a near crushing grip as we were cut off from them and got our first look at the city.

The crowd's initial alarm at our appearance quickly changed to shouts of "District 12! District 12!" Every head was turned our way, pulling focus from the three chariots ahead of us.

My throat closed up at the crowd's glee. Then I looked up and saw my image on the screen, and all of the air in my lungs whooshed out in a single breath. I looked stunning. My dark hair whipped out behind my fiery headdress. My shoulders were on fire, the flames licking at my black unitard and flowing out like I had wings… The light illuminated my face as well as Gale's, who looked handsome and severe beside me. Cinna had been right, with the minimal makeup, we looked more attractive but utterly recognizable.

The pounding music, the cheers, and the admiration slowly worked their way into my blood. I felt myself starting to shake again with even more bent up energy. The music flowed into my veins, making me want to jump up and down and dance like a crazy person. I could hardly suppress my building excitement. Cinna had given me a great advantage: No one would forget me; Not my look, not my name. Terra, the girl that was on fire!

For the first time, I felt a flicker of hope rising up in me. Surely, there must be a sponsor willing to take me on! And, with a little help, some food, the right weapon, why should I count myself out of the Games?

Someone threw me a red rose. I caught it and gave it a delicate sniff, it really was a beautiful flower. With a grin, I threw it back into the crowd in the general direction of the giver and then blew kisses out to the rolling masses. A hundred hands reached up to catch my kiss, as if it were a real and tangible thing.

"Terra! Terra!" I could hear my name being called from all sides. Everyone wanted my kisses.

It was only until we entered City Circle that I realized how bad my hand hurt. Gale and I both had been hanging on for dear life. I doubted I would be able to use it tomorrow in training…

I couldn't help feeling strange about the way Cinna had linked us together. It wasn't really fair to present us as a team and then lock us into the arena to kill each other.

The twelve chariots filled City Circle. On the buildings that surround the Circle, every window was packed with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol. Our horses pulled to a stop right up to President Snow's mansion.

The music ended with a flourish and, with it, my crazy urge to jump up onto the edge of the chariot and move my hips.

Then the president walked onto his balcony above us. I didn't think it was possible but I felt myself squeeze Gale's hand even tighter. That man was the one that ran the Capitol, instigated the Games and killed thousands of children. He was not what you would imagine a man of power to look like though. He was a small, thin man with paper-white hair and clothed in a royal blue suit. He actually looked even more normal than Cinna. I wished they were throwing him in the arena with us.

He stood up and began to give us the official wel-come but I wasn't listening, too preoccupied with the thought of what it would feel like to snap his neck with just my bare hands.

But then my eyes flickered to the screen again.

It was traditional to cut away to the faces of the tributes during the speech. But I could see on the screen that we were getting way more than our share of airtime. The darker it became, the more difficult it was to take your eyes off our flickering forms.

But when the national anthem played, they did make an effort to do a quick cut around to each pair of tributes, but the camera held the District 12 chariot as it paraded around the Circle one final time and then disappeared into the Training Center.

The doors had only jet shut behind us when we were engulfed by prep teams, who were nearly unintell-igible as they babbled praise. As I glanced around, I noticed a lot of other tributes were shooting us dirty looks, which confirmed what I already suspected: We literally outshone them all.

Then Cinna and Portia were there, helping us down from the chariot, carefully removing our flaming capes and head dresses. Portia extinguished them with some kind of spray from a canister.

"You were amazing!" Cinna praised. "Terra, my girl on fire!"

I only realized that I was still glued to Gale when he abruptly let go of my hand, shoving it away like I was poisoned. I massaged it, it was white and bloodless.

But, then, he surprised me, "You looked brilliant." He didn't even look at me when he said it.

I was so stunned by the abrupt comment that I didn't have anything to say back as he left the room. Despite his compliment, he was a silent thunder-storm followed by his harpy of a prep team.


OMG! I cannot tell you how grateful I am for all of your wonderful reviews last chapter! I think that's the most I've ever gotten! Muchos besos y abrazos for all you awesome people!