Jason Baize (17) D8M
When we reached the Capitol, I was whisked to a stylist's room in no time. I quickly learned that her name was Palanei Malithera, and she had been Eight's stylist since the Games began. I likely could have learned her name earlier, had I bothered reading up on the fashion industry, but Eight's main export had never really interested me. As much as I was willing to work for a living and pretend that I cared so my boss kept me around, I did my best to choose a job that I didn't care about to avoid having a hobby turn into a chore. That being said, I had watched the Parades just like every citizen had to, and I knew Palanei would deliver a good outfit. As much as some Districts struggled, Eight had always had beautiful outfits, often reflecting even the personality of the tributes. It was impressive enough that some people called it voodoo.
Palanei's team gave me a good scrubbing down, washing every inch of my body and waxing most of me. I had always wondered whether the stylists bothered with waxing the boys, never being able to see whether or not they had hair on the cameras, and that gave me my answer. I also learned just how much waxing hurt. I was used to shaving, which I immediately decided was the superior method of hair removal. Once I was thoroughly bald, I was covered with enough perfume that I had to consciously remind myself not to plug my noise. Don't be rude, I chided myself. This much scent is what they're used to. Since they've killed their sense of smell, I guess.
Once I was acceptably clean and smelly, my hair was blow-dried, something I had never experienced before. I felt all hot afterward, the warmth of the hair settling on my head in an oddly comforting way. I found myself pushing on it to keep the warmth smushed near my head, but the stylists batted my hands away, wanting to style my hair. They put gel in it, making the middle stick up. My undercut couldn't be styled much, but they were doing their darnedest to make me stick out. I had to stop myself from poking at the crunchy hair, hating how the gel hardened it. It's just for a few... hours? I reminded myself, lacing my fingers together so I wouldn't absentmindedly poke at it. You can do it.
As tired and focused as I was, I had to gasp when I saw the outfit Palanei had designed. It was perfectly Eight while not looking like a generic Eight outfit at all. The top was a navy blue coat, tailored to fit me perfectly, with a high red collar. It had scarlet epaulettes and silver buttons, as well as a white shirt underneath. There were white pants and red boots with sky blue laces, and there was a hat that looked just like a thimble. Sticking out to me the most, though, was the oversized needle. It was clearly meant to represent a sword, and I loved it. The second Palanei handed it to me I started swinging it around, playing with it and trying to flip it in the air. I loved it.
When I was preparing to walk onto the chariot, I was shocked to see how much Silver had changed. Her skin was glowing and her once-greasy hair looked soft. It reached her hips in waves. She still looked mostly blank, but I could see the beginning of a smile on her lips. She had a pale blue, sleeveless gown. An A-line, I noticed almost absentmindedly, recognizing one of the types of dresses I had sewn at home. It faded from light to dark pinks, the skirt made of several types of fabric. On her head was a circlet of fabric flowers, each one matching one of the fabrics in the dress's skirt. She looked absolutely gorgeous, and I couldn't help but hide a slight blush.
"You're doing great," I whispered, knowing how hard that smile must have been. To the Capitolites it might look like she wasn't trying, but I could see the effort she was putting into giving a good show. I grabbed her hand and we walked onto the chariot.
Long minutes dragged out while we waited for our chariot to start moving. I took the time to gather myself, letting one hand fall to my side and pushing my chest out. Looking confident was the key to being confident. I steadied my breathing and tried to make sure I was standing up straight. Don't lock your knees, I reminded myself. That's how you faint. Nobody wants to be the kid who fainted during the Parade. Oh my gosh you're definitely going to be the kid that fainted during the Parade. Now you won't get any sponsors because you look weak.
Shut up. Intrusive thoughts came and went. I could let them control me or I could take hold. Say your piece and then shut up. I had to allow them to pass through, or else they would linger, waiting for another chance to pop up. Say what you want but know that you have no power. Still, letting them into my head didn't mean giving them any real power. They existed as a momentary intrusion and nothing more. I know I'm not going to faint. I know I'm not going to bash Silver's head into the chariot. I know the horses aren't going to bite me. We can at least pretend to be logical.
The chariot jerked forward and I put out one hand to steady myself. The other stayed locked in Silver's hand, steadying her as well. Immediately, I was glad to be holding onto something. My grip on the side of the chariot tightened as the noises and sights overwhelmed me. The lights were flashing in my eyes, making me fight to keep a determined smile on my face and not squint. My ears were assaulted with the cheers and boos from people, some directed at me, some directed at Silver, some directed at the other Districts. I forced myself to let go of the chariot and wave, feeling myself slip further and further into my mind.
There are four four four four four four four four Districts behind you. Four four four four four four four four. There are eight that have gone, if you include yourself. Eight eight eight eight eight eight eight eight. That's good. Those are good numbers. Solid numbers. Square numbers. You've waved thirteen times, twenty-six if you count forward and backward as different waves. Your shirt has six buttons. Who needs six? Four would be better. Six six six six six six six six. I could feel myself blinking, angry when my eyelids didn't line up perfectly. I could feel each breath I took and the pressure of my teeth grinding. Silver's hand moved slightly in mine and I moved mine opposite, trying to even out the motion. Everything was too much. My façade was quickly crumbling.
Before I realized it, our chariot came to a stop. I stepped off and helped Silver off, her legs slightly shaky from the whole ordeal. Then I turned to the horse nearest to me and buried my face in its fur. The horse was soft and steady. The horse smelled nice and didn't move when I touched it. I counted my breaths, waiting until I reached eight to pull away from the horse, smiling like I was fully ready to face the day. My hands were shaking and I was about to cry from just how overwhelming the ordeal was, but I had gotten through it alive. One day down, two weeks to go.