CHAPTER 21 RAVEN
I look around. All the Tributes are already standing in their chariots, with their stylists making quick, last-minute adjustments to their costumes. I can hear the roaring crowd that's just outside the huge doorway and I recognize that there is some woman speaking over a loudspeaker. She's probably getting the audience riled up for the parade.
Monnie is standing right next to me, and I'm glad that I don't have to go through the chariot ride on my own. She looks just as nervous as I feel, which is both comforting and scary, given the nerves of steel she showed off at the Reaping back home. I want to talk to her, but I can't think of anything to say so I just stare ahead. Our stylist darts in between our limbs, making sure our costumes are on correctly.
Monnie and I are both wearing uncomfortable, silver jumpsuits. They're fashioned entirely out of wires, some thicker and some thinner and more fragile. It must be because we're from District Three. The stylist had warned us in her fake accent not to move at all in the costumes, because they're so extremely breakable. I wonder how I'll manage to not fall out of the chariot if I can't move my arm to grip the sides.
A man with a large clipboard and a small megaphone enters the Chariot Room. The sudden hush from the street outside tells me that the parade is about to begin. The man speaks into the megaphone, confirming my suspicions. The stylist from District One leaves the first chariot. The two Tributes are wearing nothing but a bunch of rubies and diamonds stuck directly to their skin. The male Tribute is pretty well-covered-up, but the girl is practically naked. The stylist must think it's going to get her some popularity. Apparently, it does, because when their chariot rolls out of the room, the crowd erupts into cheers.
The next chariot to go is District Two. I take a deep breath, because Monnie and I are next. "Don't worry," she says from my right. "All we have to do is smile and try not to fall out. This is no big deal. Not compared to what we're here for in the first place." She's right, but I'm still nervous. I nod, but stop myself when I remember our stylist's words. The man with the clipboard walks up to our chariot.
"Three, you're up." He pats the grey horses in front of our chariot, and they trot off, pulling us along with them. The doors open and we're carried out into the street.
The avenue is huge; there are thousands of spectators watching us from the stands, and probably thousands more on television. People point fingers, roar, and cheer as we roll out of the building. I don't know what to do. I can't move because of my costume. All four of the Tributes in front of us are waving and smiling at the audience. I can't even turn to see them clearly. I can tell that the crowd isn't too pleased with our performance. I notice that most of the heads in my vision are facing towards the doors, hoping the next chariot will be more exciting. I know that Monnie and I will have no sponsors, and an even smaller chance at winning the Games.