Chapter 4: Parade

The night in my room, Skipper's words bounce around my mind. His advice is a paradox. "So when they do finally make you pay back, ask for something good from them. Something really good." It makes no sense whatsoever. Make them pay when I pay them back? It's obviously not money that they would want back. I know what it is, so what can I get from them that's worth that?

I roll over in my bed, pulling the soft sheets over my face, blocking out all the possible light in the room. We should be reaching The Capitol early tomorrow morning, so I want to get as much sleep as I can.

A vigorous knock on my door awakens me this morning. I groan in response, but then quickly regret it when Cicero begins to yell at me, "Listen here, young man, we will be in The Capitol in less than an hour. You make yourself look presentable or no one will want to sponsor you. Have some decorum!"

I stifle a laugh at his last line. Quite ironic for a Capitol citizen to demand decorum when he's probably placing bets on my death.

I put on a form-fitting shirt and throw on some jeans and keep my shoes from yesterday. I look into the mirror that's placed on the wardrobe and mess with my hair, but I know the stylist will fix it.

Coming into the dining room, I see that a banquet is laid out. There are a few things I recognize like lox, fried shrimp and grits, but there are other things I would rather try.

Sitting down at the table, I fill my plate with a piece of toast that has an egg in the middle, something Cicero calls 'eggs in a basket,' a cinnamon roll, a slice of pumpkin bread, and an apple. If I'm going to die I'm going to die eating well.

Galatea comes in a few minutes after me and also fills her plate too. She looks at the lox and wrinkles her nose at it.

"You know, I never really liked seafood," she says.

"Really?" I ask, actually surprised.

"It's ironic I know, but it's just too fishy for me. I don't know how I made it in 4."

"Well, you have a whole array of things to try this week."

"Yep."

Galatea smiles and pokes her fork at the eggs on her plate. The weight of my words just hit us both. We have a week to try anything we want, wear anything we want, and even say anything we want, but for twenty-three of us, this will be our last chance to do any of that.

We eat in the silence of that fact.

Eventually, Mags and Skipper join us at breakfast, neither of them reaching for the lox, and going for the non-seafood items.

Mags smiles and says, "We can save the lox for Cicero."

Mags is dressed in a flowy light blue dress, and her hair is wavy. She looks happy this morning, probably because she'll see her friends today. Skipper has a similar attitude and outfit. I could use this to practice some snark, but I decide not to. These people are my way out of the games, and I'll do anything to keep them happy.

About ten minutes later as we are beginning to finish up breakfast, Cicero stumbles into the dining cart in a pink silk bathrobe. Where his blue wig once sat, a wig cap has taken its place. He also has no makeup on. He has no tattoos or piercings; nor has he had any augmentation done to his body; his toffee skin is free from any dye as well. He looks human.

"Oh lox!" he says when he sees the table. We all laugh.

As we finish eating, Skipper gets up to pour himself a coffee and puts a white cream in it. While stirring it, the smell makes it apparent that there was something else in that cream.

Mags smiles, "Don't be stingy Skipper, give me some too."

Skipper pushes the bottle towards her and she puts a small amount in her cup. She offers it to me and Galatea. Galatea waves it off, but I pour some in my cup.

Then Skipper speaks. "We will be reaching the Capitol shortly, in fact, the tunnel is coming up in a few minutes, but I would like to take this time to give some pointers for the parade. Galatea, your size is daunting and works to your advantage, make sure to show off some when you are in the parade. Finnick, the same goes for you. You're young but you're fierce, and remember to play up the snark."

"Skipper's right," Mags starts. "Remember to present as a team, though, it will help you get more sponsors."

"What do you think they're going to dress us in?" Galatea asks.

"Being from 4, you have a fifty-fifty chance of looking like a sea queen or looking like they fished your body out of the water," Skipper says.

As he says these words, the setting around us goes dark. We're in the tunnel. I rush to a window and peek out of it. When the light sheds back in, a dazzling city sits before me. It's backed by mountains, some of which still have snow on the top.

Soon we pull into the train station that is full of many adoring Capitol citizens. They cheer us on, and when Mags and Skipper step off, they realize it's the train from 4. The crowd goes wild.

We are quickly escorted off the train and led to the Remake Center. When I arrive there, I'm introduced to my prep team: Hadrian, Domitia, and Marcus. Hadrian and Marcus are brothers who have been working in the games for twelve years and moved up the 4 during Skipper's games. Both wear their hair in two exaggerated curls across their forehead. Hadrian has dyed his hair and skin a pale purple color, while Marcus had his hair dyed an unnatural gold color and still has his regular skin tone; skin so white it looks porcelain.

Domitia leads the team, she's ruff and abrasive, taking little care to warn me when she's going to wax, cut, or clip something on my body. Her looks are very natural compared to everyone else. Her only modification are purple highlights in her natural blonde hair. She's thin and sucks her lips in as she works. It's obvious by her movements that she does not want to be here. My guess is that she is forced here.

A few hours later, I'm as raw as I can be. I sit on a table, naked, waiting for my stylist to come and see me. I hope that I get a decent stylist, but I know that is wishful thinking.

A knock on my door, and then a woman steps in. She's a tall, slim woman. Her face is like that of a bird, but she has had no surgeries done, and she has little mockingjays tattoed all over her arms. Her skin is bronze, like mine, but her eyes are a pale yellow color, somehow made beautiful by the Capitol. She's dressed in a simple black t-shirt and blake pants.

"Hello, Finnick, I'm Ponoma," she greets me. "I've got something good for you. Put this on first." She hands me a robe, then beckons me to follow her out of the room.

She leads me to another room where a lunch has been laid out on a coffee table. There's a red leather couch behind it, and in front of the table are several pieces of clothing hanging up on a wrack. Some of it is blue, some of it is netted.

We eat the meal before us, grilled chicken and noodles, mixed with a white sauce with a few spices. It's both salty and spicy, but the creaminess is what I enjoy the most.

After we're done eating, she walks up to the wrack and pulls down one of the blue outfits for me. I notice that she left the netted part of the outfit on the wrack, and my curiosity gets the better of me.

"When am I going to wear that?" I ask, pointing to the net.

"That's for later," she smirks. "Much later. Here, put this on." I take the blue outfit out of her extended arm and strip down from my robe.

Putting on the outfit, I realize that it's a long blue tunic with bubbles and seashells painted on it diligently. It stops just above my knees, and its sleeves are short, showing off my arms. A gold seam runs its course throughout the tunic, and it creates the hem of the tunic.

"What, no starfish or pearls?" I ask, trying to practice my snark.

Ponoma smiles and rolls her eyes. "Careful, I could make you go out naked."

"You would lose your job."

"If I sent you out naked, I would most certainly get a promotion."

I know she means to joke, but Skipper already made it clear that if I survive, my body will be something many in the Capitol will want.

"Come on, now, it's time for the parade."

Ponoma leads me out of the room and outside to where chariots and horses are waiting. Some of the tributes are out and sticking to their carriages, while their mentors mingle with each other.

We walk to the fourth chariot in the line, and I see that Mags and Skipper are already there. Skipper is talking with Gloss, while Mags is laughing up a storm with Seeder, from 11, and another woman. I don't know her name but I know she's from 6. She's thin from her morphling use.

I make like the other tributes and stand next to the carriage, looking down and around, anywhere but towards the crowd in front of us.

Mags walks over to me with Seeder and the other women. "How was that, Finnick?"

Noting that there are others around, I answer how I'm supposed to: "It was a waste considering how many of us are going to die.

Mags frows. "You don't have to act like that when other Victors are around."

"That's right," Seeder steps up. "We're not the ones who are going to hurt you if you get out."

This comforts me and I relax, "Honestly, it was a little painful with all the waxing, but I do feel clean."

Smiling, Mags pats me on the shoulder, "It feels good to be clean."

I turn my attention to the two other Victors. "I've seen you on tv, but I would like to introduce myself," I outstretch my hand. " I'm Finnick Odair."

"Seeder," the dark woman says, taking my hand in hers.

"Caitlin," the other woman says. She's so thin that her skin hangs off of her, and has a yellow tinge to it. I can't help but feel bad.

Before we get the chance to talk, Galatea walks up to the chariot, and the other Victors leave so that we can talk. Skipper hugs Gloss goodbye and walks over to us.

"What's the plan?" Galatea asks.

"Same as we have been saying; be a team," Skipper responds.

"Anything else?"

"Don't act like you're above the crowd. They're the reason you might get out of this."

The loudspeaker calls us to get on to our chariots, and before we can climb on, Mags grabs us both and places a kiss on our forehead. I feel a motherly warmth from the old Victor, and I now realize how glad I am to have her as a Mentor.

"Good luck you two," Mags yells up.

"You'll both do great!" Skipper shouts as our chariot moves.

We ride on out to the open area, our black horses moving in sync with each other. I reach for Galatea's hand and we hold them up when we are exposed to the crowd. They cheer our names with enthusiasm, and I let a smile come on my face.

I look over at Galatea, and she looks almost afraid of the crowd. I can sense she wants her hand down, so when we get halfway down the stretch, I lower them down.

"Thanks," she whispers.

We ride the rest of the way in silence. I look over to the cheering crowd and wave at them, hoping to catch a sponsor or two. I then look over to Galatea and notice she has her hand up, contemplating whether she will wave. I nudge her a bit, knowing it will help her, but may hurt me. I shouldn't have done that. They go wild for her.

By the time we reach the circle, my arm is tired of waving, and I'm ready to get out of this chariot. The other chariots begin to fill the circle over the next few minutes. By the time 11 gets here, I have seen so many horrible outfits that nothing worse can happen, but then when 12 rides up completely naked and covered in coal, I would take any of those outfits over that.

The president approaches the podium to deliver his speech. He scares me from this distance, and I know that if he came any closer I might pass out. The man screams murder and crime, he's sly and cunning. He is everything I never want to be.

He begins his speech talking about the importance of the games and the history that they make, and I lose interest in it about one minute in. There's nothing lifesaving in his words.

Instead, my attention is on 3's chariot, where a singular mockingjay has landed. I can tell that it's singing, but it's drowned out by the president's cool voice. None of the other tributes have seen the bird, they all look to the president. I'm the only one looking somewhere else, and I know that reporters will catch it, but I don't care.

The president ends his speech, and the crowd goes wild for it. I feel my chariot move below me, and I grab on to it to steady myself.

My little act of defiance will get me yelled at for sure, but a part of me doesn't care.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get another chapter up. This one is much longer and I think it's starting to turn the story around. Games should be coming up soon. Please leave a review!