Endure Chapter 5: Makeover, a hunger games fanfic

~Chapter Five: Makeover~

"Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change." ―Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein

I didn't throw up.

I lay down on the bed, on top of the covers, looking up at the ceiling and rubbing my stomach absently. I'd drank a few mouthfuls of water from the bathroom as soon as I got into the room, and tried my best to relax against the pillows. To my surprise, a soft knock had sounded on my door within a few minutes of me entering my room. When I had asked who it was, irritably, there was no response. Just another polite knock. By the time I opened the door with a scowl, nobody was there, but a tiny container of medicine sat on the ground. I picked it up, not recognizing whatever complex word was on the label, but knowing it was probably for nausea. Apparently, someone had told an Avox to bring it. Johanna wasn't that considerate, so it was probably Ben.

I took it with some more water without question, disregarding my own safety entirely. What were they going to do, kill me? Maybe it would be a tranquilizer that would help me sleep. I wouldn't even complain.

The nausea subsided then, after just a few more minutes. The wonders of Capitol medicine that they didn't share with the districts. Although, being alone and not having to hide my nervousness probably helped. I let the worried, fearful expression settle on my features as I raised a hand to my mouth and mindlessly started biting at one of my fingernails.

I'd really have to control the nervous habit. Minodora would probably want to slap me upside the head if I bit at my nails during the Tribute Parade or interviews.

This bed was incredibly soft; softer than anything I'd ever slept on. Part of me wanted to just curl up on my side, let the tears out, and cry myself to sleep.

But the smarter part of my brain refused to sleep right now. Johanna had said she would be in the lounge car for another hour or so…probably only about forty minutes by now. It would be stupid and wasteful of me to waste the chance to ask her for advice during the limited time I had. She was volatile; who knew if she'd even be willing to help me tomorrow.

Plus, Minodora had mentioned that the itinerary was a bit different this year than the normal Hunger Games. She'd been pretty tight-lipped about it, saying she didn't want to "spoil the wonderful surprise" just yet, but I had no clue what to expect. Not knowing what lie ahead meant I wasn't going to waste potential time learning from my mentor.

So, after a couple more minutes lying on the bed and forcing down my unease, nerves and misery, I forced myself out of my room again.

…

Blight, Autumn, and Rudd were nowhere to be found, and even Minodora was absent when I returned to the lounge car. Apparently, Johanna had selected myself and Ben to mentor. I understood why she didn't want to mentor Autumn. As for Rudd, he clearly clearly had some strength and weapons knowledge, but wasn't exactly pleasant or likable (not that I was either right now) and unless he got cleaned up over the next few days, his chances wouldn't be good either.

I felt a pang at the thought, which I stubbornly tried to ignore.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to join us," Johanna said sardonically, tossing me a condescending look. "Little miss Twiglet get over her tummy issues?"

I ignored the jibe, though once again I felt a surge of irritation. Apparently, she was still coming up with nicknames for me. I looked instead at Ben. "Um…thanks for the medicine..?" I said softly, a query in my voice, since I wasn't positive it had been him.

Ben nodded in response, confirming my suspicious that he had been the one that asked an Avox to bring it to me.

"Sit." Johanna demanded imperiously, pointing at the chair next to Ben.

I sat.

Earlier today, I might have protested the fact that we were going to discuss strategy with both Ben and myself present. I may have been disturbed by the thought that he would overhear some of my plans to make it by in the Arena. Now, though, I'd come to terms with the fact that he (almost certainly) wouldn't be coming for me in the Arena.

Plus, we only had two mentors. It was a pretty safe bet that we'd have to share some time, at least in the early stages. This was okay for now. I couldn't waste the opportunity.

"Good 'ol Benny and I had just finished talking about the Training Center, and were reviewing his presentation strategy for the Tribute Parade, interviews, and other events."

Ben didn't seem to mind at all that I was going to be potentially overhearing some of his strategy, too.

"Other events? Like the part where we get our personal score?" I questioned.

Johanna was shaking her head. "I don't have the details yet, but there are a couple of extra events scheduled this year, due to it being a Quell. The Capitol wants to make it even more of a ridiculous spectacle" she sneered on the word, "than normal. You'll be in the Capitol a bit longer than you normally would before the Games."

Great. Part of me was grateful for a few more days to be alive, to prepare. Part of me thought it might not be good for my mental health to drag the start of the Arena out.

Johanna must have read the conflicting expression on my face. "It should give you more time to pull Sponsors. If you can," she added, a bit spitefully.

"I'm glad you have oh so much faith in me," I replied sarcastically, unable to help myself. Her jibes were not helping my mood.

"That sharp tongue isn't going to do you any favors this week," Johanna replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, then what do you recommend?" I huffed, annoyed.

Johanna actually looked contemplative, tapping a long, bony finger against her chin, dark eyes surveying me critically. "Well—now no offense, Twigster—" (I could tell she definitely meant offense based on her expression and yet another iteration of the annoying nickname) "but you aren't quite as big, strong, and capable looking as Benny Boy over here." Ben looked like he didn't enjoy his nickname either. "You'll look passable, once the Capitol fixes you up. But you're just not physically intimidating, despite that glare you like to keep on your face so often."

Well, that was something I already knew. I was honestly surprised that there was almost a compliment in there.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," she continued, "it's good that you look angry instead of scared. That makes it look slightly more likely that you won't just roll over and die during the bloodbath. Slightly." I snorted, but she ignored me and continued. "But I just don't think it'll work very well as an angle. Not when you don't have the size or training to back it up."

I nodded, trying not to look frustrated. This was all obvious to me. I'd never planned on using an intimidation as a strategy; it was usually pretty ridiculous for most non-Careers to try. Especially someone of smaller stature. The only reason I'd taken the 'I want to look furious' approach during the Reaping was because that was the only way I could find to mask my fear, terror, and contemplation of my own death in that moment.

"You played everything off as being weak, right?" I asked her then. Johanna's gaze darkened slightly, but I continued. "I thought about maybe doing that, to be underestimated, but…your games were pretty recent. I'm not sure it would work."

"Probably not. At least not on the Careers. Guarantee they studied the tape of the most recent Victors, or even the most recent Victor from every district. They can't go getting surprised by us weak outer districts again, after all." The sentence nearly ended in a snarl.

Ben spoke up then. "You've always been pretty smart in school, June. You did well, right?"

I glanced at him, completely surprised. I still couldn't believe he was actively trying to help me. And I was also surprised he'd noticed that I'd been somewhat successful academically. I was never top of the class or anything, but I made good grades. I guess we'd had a few classes together, so it wasn't that crazy of an observation, but still. We hadn't interacted too much at school.

Johanna had actually been silent for a few seconds, still contemplating. "I said that smart mouth wouldn't do you any favors. And it won't, if you're making bitchy little comments all week. But there is a fine line between witty and rude. Think you can find some charisma and wit somewhere?"

I glared at her again, clenching my jaw. "I'll have to find a way to manage," I grit out.

A smirk formed on her face. "I'm just saying, sometimes people like the clever ones. You just can't come across condescending, or irritated, or like you think you're above everyone else."

"I've never thought I was above-" I began to protest, and she cut me off with a scoff.

"See, that right there, Twiggy. You'll have to take things in stride. You can't argue with everything."

My irritation rose again. "Yes, I am aware," I replied tartly. "I do, in fact, have basic social skills, when I'm not being shipped off to my death."

Johanna snorted then, and almost seemed amused for a split second.

"I'm just saying. The people here are horrible, and shallow, and disgusting. They're freaks. But some of them could save your life. You can't come across like you hate them. Like I said, there's a fine line between witty banter and insulting comments. If you can't find that line, then, well…there isn't much hope for you."

She didn't sound the least bit sad as she said that, but I actually felt my irritation decrease slightly. Because she really was trying to help me, and she was right. I'd already had the same thought myself after I'd been Reaped. I'd known I'd have to suppress my anger and be likable. Back home, I was good at talking to people I didn't know very well. Certainly better than my brother. I thought I was fairly likable, at least when I wasn't in a sour mood.

Of course, I didn't despise the people back home, and I wasn't on the chopping block for their amusement.

Still, Johanna's point stood. I nodded at her, having no comeback for the advice that might actually save my life.

Her next point was that my strategy (and Ben's too, I supposed) could be forced to change somewhat once we found out who our partners would be for the Arena. I asked when we'd find that out, but she didn't know. Apparently, though, there would be a program after the Tribute Parade and opening ceremonies that would give us some more information—though about what, Johanna wasn't sure.

The next half hour or so was spent going over some of what we could expect during our time in the Capitol (though Johanna didn't have too many details, since there were a couple change-ups this year), some tentative ideas of what the arena would be like (probably not a woodsy forest with a lake like was present last year, much to my bemusement), basics regarding how to find water and shelter, and stupid mistakes not to make-like lighting a fire at night in the open or drinking water without purifying it (though again, without knowing what the Arena would be, there was only so much information she could give).

Those last bits, in particular, I filed away for later use. I was sure these things would be reiterated in training but they were still incredibly useful. And Johanna, despite making irritating jibes or snarky comments pretty consistently throughout her instructions and our questions (maybe she should take some of her own advice about behavior, I thought), was ultimately helpful.

I still wasn't confident at the end of the thirty minutes, but I definitely felt better than I had all day since my name was first drawn.

…

Finally, it was time for bed.

I peeled off the soft green shirt and pants, rummaging through the drawers before I found a silky nightgown that nearly reached my knees.

I cleaned my teeth (using a fancy tiny brush device that I really had no idea how to properly use), then let down my hair and crawled into bed.

It was time, I thought. Time to finally let these pent-up emotions out.

At that exact moment, I made a resolution with myself. I would break down now—the first night after I had been Reaped, the last night before I made it into the Capitol. I would release the emotions threatening to burst within me in a tidal wave. I would empty myself of every screaming, clawing urge I had to break down. I would get rid of all of it until I was basically just an empty husk, leaving only the part of me behind that was rational and already thinking about what I could do to maximize my chances of survival.

After I broke down tonight, I couldn't do it again. I couldn't waste any time with these overwhelming emotions. I had to focus on what to do next, on how to give myself the best shot to get through this.

I was a realist, not an optimist. I always had been. In this moment, when I was about to let the floodgates open, I also resolved to accept the possibility of my death. The likely possibility of it. I would finally accept it, and accept what it meant, because hopefully that would help me get rid of the emotions—mainly the terror of dying—overwhelming me.

I fully planned on fighting for my survival, of course. But…I wasn't sure I had it in me to kill anyone. I absolutely did not want to, most of us didn't… then again, it was not a matter of what I wanted. What would I have to do, and what could I do? I wasn't sure I could do it. The thought was abhorrent to me right now. But…how could I know if I was capable of killing before such a decision was forced upon me? I couldn't, until I was in a moment where I might have to kill to save myself, and I understood that. The Games changed people. The thought was horrific, but there wasn't anything I could do about it now. When the time came, the pieces would fall where they may. I really hoped I wouldn't have to kill. I really hoped I wouldn't have to die. But this was the horrible reality I was living in now.

Despite these misgivings, though, I still fully intended on trying my best to survive these Games. Even though I knew the odds were bad, and I was more than likely dead and would never see my family again, I was not giving up. Even though pretty much everything was stacked against me, I would still try. I owed my family that much at least. I would fight with everything I could to get back to them. They deserved that. I wouldn't go down like a weakling.

And, with that, I opened the floodgates. I let the emotion rush out of me in a massive tsunami of pain and fear. I wanted to empty myself of everything churning below the surface. I needed to accept what reality had come. Maybe, then, I could focus on more than my own misery and pain during the coming days.

I shoved my face into the downy pillow, laying on my stomach on the soft bed, and cried. I cried deep, painful, wracking, heaving sobs, until my stomach and lungs hurt and I felt like a broken vessel. The pillow muffled the sound, and I hoped nobody else heard, but deep down I didn't care.

I cried until it seemed like nearly everything left of me had trickled out through the cracks. I thought about my father, and brother, and friends, and aunt, uncle, cousins…and then I cried even more. I wept miserably, softly thumbing my mother's wedding ring, one of the only things I had left from home. The only thing from District 7 that would accompany me into the Arena.

And then, after who knows how long spent in abject misery, the tears stopped.

Finally, I slept.

…

In the morning, I put on a shirt and pair of pants that were slightly nicer and seemed intended for a fancier occasion than yesterday's outfit, given that they were from the closet instead of the drawers. I needed to look nice for my Capitol arrival, I thought with mild disgust. The shirt was slightly more form-fitting and had a v-neck similar to my mother's dress. I did, however, slide on the same shoes from Reaping Day. They were comfortable and familiar. My mother's dress was still carefully laid over a chair in my room; it wouldn't feel right wearing it in the Capitol. I didn't feel like she would have wanted that.

I felt incredibly drained. I had tossed and turned nearly all night, the occasional nightmare jutting roughly into my sleep.

Most of my nightmares consisted of being stranded in some dark hole in the Arena, or the Careers murdering me. Tatiana from 2 sneering at me as she speared me, Cato snapping my neck with a quick jerk of his arm.

I could definitely tell I had been crying when I looked in the mirror. I splashed some water on my face, patting at my eyes to try to make it better. It helped some, but not enough. Hopefully the others wouldn't look too great either.

Minodora was far too cheery at the dining table at breakfast. I felt yet another urge to punch her in the face. I could not handle that screeching voice this early (she had rapped on my door loudly to wake me up just as dawn was breaking). Maybe I could channel that violent urge for the Games.

The breakfast food, though, quickly distracted me. It was every bit as good as the dinner last night (minus no cheesecake). There were eggs, cooked in various ways different than how we ate them at home on special occasions; ham, bacon, and some other meat I didn't recognize; some delicious crispy potatoes; a large fruit platter and another cheese platter, both of which I eagerly ate from; piles upon piles of fluffy rolls; some sort of sweet disc-shaped piece of flat bread covered in a sauce that I was informed was syrup, apparently called a pancake; other slices of bread coated in sugar and apparently cooked in a special way that made them especially delicious; and then several types of beverages such as coffee, tea, orange juice (a delicacy back home) and a delicious, warm drink called hot chocolate.

We all loved the hot chocolate. I caught Minodora gesturing at an Avox to bring Ben extra, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She had a clear favorite (understandably).

Even Autumn ate a tiny bit more than yesterday. As usual, though, I couldn't look at her for very long. I knew she didn't want my pity. But truth was, I felt awful for her. Perhaps she and I should be bonding, but as harsh as it was, I wasn't sure there was much of a point.

Yet again I ate until I was stuffed, but at least this time tried to resist shoving in the last few bites after my stomach was already stuffed. I didn't want to throw up on the Capitol citizens that would be gathered, waiting for our train arrival (according to Minodora).

I mean, it would definitely be funny. But probably not a good idea.

Minodora, apparently, had received some information from the Capitol this morning relating to our itinerary. She sat, prim and ramrod-straight in her chair, eager to share the all-important news after most of us were finished eating. I idly thought that she looked like some sort of strange animal today, with the brightly colored fur she had draped around her shoulders and her pinkish-orange hair.

This was something I needed to know, though, so I actually listened to her.

Typically, tributes were apparently in the Capitol for about five or six days prior to entering the Arena. In a normal year there was the day of the arrival, makeovers, and the Tribute Parade, three days of training (the last day included a private session in front of the Gamemakers), a day off, and the last day when the interviews were held.

This year, however, that timeframe was extended. We'd be at the Capitol for about nine days. This extended time was meant to accommodate a couple of new events, as well as the announcement of the Tribute pairings.

The first four days were roughly the same as a typical Hunger Games. We'd arrive today, be made over into something "presentable" by Capitol standards, and the opening ceremonies and Tribute Parade would be tonight. Apparently, we might get a sneak peek of the Arena tonight too, or at least a hint of some of the "special features" for the Quell (this surprised me; I didn't remember the Gamemakers ever allowing any sort of information about the Arena before the Games). Then we'd have two full days of training. The fourth day in the Capitol would be a half day of training, then the private scoring sessions (I idly wondered how they'd fit all the scoring sessions in a half day, with forty-eight tributes, but didn't dare interrupt Minodora). This was all pretty standard.

After that, the schedule differed fairly significantly from a normal year.

The fifth day, apparently, would consist of some sort of "gala". I had no idea what this meant, and Minodora didn't have further information, except to say that there would be "very important people" there (i.e. Gamemakers and potential Sponsors, I reckoned).

The evening of the sixth day would consist of the solo interview, as normal.

The seventh day was the big one. That's when the Tribute pairs would be announced. That would occur in the afternoon or early evening. Afterwards, each pair of tributes would be allowed a set time to meet and strategize with their mentors, in designated private areas of the Training Center provided by the Capitol. That way, they wouldn't have to travel to each other's floors and could be carefully monitored, I guessed. According to Minodora, some "incredible" renovations had been done to the Training Center this year to accommodate all the Quell changes.

Minodora still didn't know how the Tribute pairs would be selected. Apparently, the Capitol hadn't seen fit to deem anyone privy to such useful information. Yet.

The eighth day was the only day of duo training allowed, where we would be required to train with our partner. I was secretly a bit glad for this. More training was more training. We were getting an extra day compared to tributes from the past. Hopefully my partner wasn't insufferable.

The ninth, and final day, was significant too. In the afternoon was a Sponsor meet and greet. This was another event unique to the Quarter Quell. We'd be with our Arena partner, and would have the chance to "mingle" with Sponsors who perhaps were interested in financially supporting us as a pair. Apparently, there was a lot more to the Sponsorships and donations this year than normal. Yet again, though, the Capitol had been pretty tight-lipped with information. Judging by Johanna's face she was not pleased with all of the extra work required. Minodora, on the other hand, seemed to love the concept.

That night would be our final night before heading into the Arena, and it would consist of another round of interviews, but this time we'd be interviewed as Tribute pairs.

This was certainly a lot to take in. Minodora beamed at all of us (mainly Ben) after she was done giving us the rundown in her grating, chipper voice.

Despite the extended time we'd be in the Capitol, I couldn't help the intrusive thoughts from snaking around my brain. You'll be in the Arena in less than ten days.

You may only have about a week left to live.

…

Although most of us milled about the sitting room car over the next hour or so, there weren't many attempts at small talk. As we were nearing the Capitol Johanna and Blight spoke with us (surprisingly, though he let Johanna do most of the talking), giving us a few more tips about the Arena, but we were all on edge as we listened and I wasn't sure how much it truly sank in.

Just then, the train was plunged into darkness. I stifled a gasp as Autumn squeaked out a noise from the chair next to me.

It only took me a second to realize it hadn't gotten randomly dark outside, and we were inside a massive tunnel. I had never seen anything like it. It clearly ran right through the mountains that encircled the Capitol. I wasn't sure how far we were down, but I hoped the tunnel was strong enough to hold up the mountains of earth and rock above us. It was a freaky thought. I missed the trees and warm sunlight. I didn't like being buried in the depths of the earth like this, despite how quickly we streaked along through the tunnel.

It was incredible to see just how long it stretched on, but all I felt was claustrophobic. After a moment I looked away, instead staring down at my mother's wedding ring in the dim light of the train car, moving to chew on a fingernail before catching myself in an attempt to quell the nervous habit.

Then, the train began to slow. A moment later, light trickled through the windows again and we were free from the tunnel. I turned around, then, curious despite myself.

My mouth fell open, and I stared at the Capitol in awe. Never had I seen such grandeur (nor would I ever again, came a tiny thought in the back of my mind). Everything seemed to be practically glowing, the opulence nearly indescribable. Shiny buildings stretched towards the heavens. There were just so many of them. The buildings were incredibly sleek, some wider than others, but each looking completely foreign to me. They came in various shapes and designs, some tricking my eyes where I could barely understand what I was looking at. Sunlight glinted off of the windows (there were windows bigger than I could comprehend; how big of a window did you need? Why not just go outside?) passing by as the train continued to slow, creating dazzling arrays of light.

"Wow," Benjamin breathed, and I realized he had come up behind me. I could sense Autumn's wonder as well, as she stared out the window with wide blue eyes.

Everything was just so…so…clean, and bright. Quite the opposite from the corruption within, I thought dryly. There were countless large, paved roads, vehicles of all shapes, sizes and colors cruising along.

There was almost too much to look at. I briefly wondered what Rowan and my father would think if they saw it, but quickly pushed the thought away to avoid the wave of homesickness. My eyes darted this way and that, trying to take everything in. I was nearly pressed against the window, but I made no attempt to hide my curiosity. Everything I'd seen on TV couldn't fully capture this. I saw large sculptures with water shooting out the top, arching bridges with complex designs over crystal-clear rivers, meticulous small grassy areas where Capitol citizens gathered, and so many bright flashing lights and screens and technology that I couldn't hope to comprehend.

And the people. There were just so many people. They milled about the Capitol streets, laughing and gesturing; as the train continued to slow, I could see them start to take notice of us. They turned to face us, excitement brightening their expressions as their "entertainment" started to roll in. Each Capitol resident was incredibly distinct from the other. They were so strange to look at, with their brightly colored clothes, and jewelry, and makeup, and skin. Some colors were nearly blinding in their garishness. A lot of these people barely seemed human at all, they'd had some much work done. I found myself staring at those who had made themselves look more like animals. None of these people were as skinny as we were. None of them looked tired. None of them had ever experienced a hard day of work in their life, I'd wager.

As the train began to slow even more, I noticed that citizens were crowding towards the train, screeching and pointing and practically jumping around in their excitement as they tried to get a glimpse of us through the windows. I guessed we were nearly at the station now. This must be some sort of ritual, with the citizens getting as close to the station as possible to get a good view of the fresh meat. The faces all began to blur together as we passed throngs of people.

Remembering Johanna's words from last night, I attempted to plaster a neutral expression on my face, not wanting to look hateful or disgusted. These foreign, shallow people could be my saving grace after all. Ben settled into the chair next to me, and when I glanced at him I realized he was actually smiling at the Capitol onlookers straining to get a look at us, clustered in huddles close to the train as it began to crawl nearly to a stop.

I tried to force a small smile on my face as well. I wasn't sure it was convincing, but I had to try, if it would save my life. I couldn't bring myself to wave, though. At least not until we got off the train; then I knew I'd have to "pretend to have a friendly personality" (per Johanna this morning after breakfast).

I could be friendly. I was friendly back home. I could do this. I could pretend I didn't hate all of these people, at least for the next week. I could do this. My life depended on it, after all.

I could do this.

The people were blocked from our view as we pulled into the train station, and I let my face relax. "Not bad, June," Ben quipped from next to me. I tossed him a halfhearted glare.

"Just trying to live up to your example," I replied sarcastically.

I could already hear the loud cheers and excited squeals from outside the train. There had to be a pretty massive crowd gathered at the station. I bet they staggered the Tribute arrivals just enough that the most devoted Capitol citizens got to meet all of the sacrifices for this year. Minodora began to usher us towards the door to the train as it came to a halt, trilling in her annoying voice at the others to join us, but as I walked towards the exit I was quickly reminded of something I didn't want to leave behind. I turned and darted to my room, the escort's scolding voice echoing behind me. I quickly grabbed my mother's dress off the back of the chair, folded it, and tucked it under my arm. No way I was leaving this behind.

Minodora glared daggers at me as she saw what I was clutching under my arm, but made no move to take it away thankfully. I still had one arm free to wave at the onlookers. That's all she should care about, I thought. With a scowl, she pointed at the empty spot in line behind Ben. He would be in front (thankfully), I sensed Autumn trembling behind me, and Rudd was behind her. Bringing up the rear would be our two mentors, while Minodora would be first out with Ben. I wondered if she would ask him to escort her from the train. I could already picture her clinging to him. I snickered under my breath quietly, and Ben tossed me a curious look, eyebrows raised.

Johanna was not excited about this, I could tell. Her scowl was already in place. As a Victor, I supposed she didn't have to be as charming as us, especially when she was remembered from her Games as being ruthless. I only hope she knew a way to talk to Sponsors. Blight, meanwhile, looked tired and resigned. His expression was mostly neutral. At least he was seemingly sober, as was Rudd, from what I could tell.

The doors slid open, and we were overwhelmed with a wave of noise. The Capitol residents were absolutely thrilled to see us.

Showtime, I thought dryly. At the same time, Minodora hissed at us to put smiles on our faces. I tried my best to settle my face into a friendly expression with a small smile. I'd never been good at faking emotions or concealing my true thoughts, but I'd never been in a situation like this before.

I could do it. I had to. I had much harder things I'd have to do in order to stay alive then fake being friendly for a few minutes.

And, ultimately, I actually did better than I thought.

It helped that Ben, after stepping out first and throwing the crowd a quick wave (which earned a fresh round of excited squeals, particularly from some of the ladies in the crowd), hesitated slightly so that he was at my side by the time I stepped out. I was absurdly grateful for it. Perhaps he'd draw some of the more critical attention away from me.

Fortunately, Peacekeepers flanked each side of our group, so the crowd couldn't get too close to us. I didn't want anyone grabbing me, though many of their outstretched hands suggested they'd be more than willing to.

I kept my face in the (fake) smile, and even forced out a small wave of my own with my free hand. They seemed to like that. I actually felt like some of them were cheering for me and not just Ben. I quickly learned the trick was not to actually focus on any one face. They were just too foreign and odd looking. It would throw me off my game, I knew. So instead, I kept up the small waves and the fake contented smile and continuously turned my face every which way so it looked like I was surveying the crowd, but instead of making eye contact I mostly just looked over their heads or trailed my gaze over their faces as briefly as possible.

Whatever I was doing, it seemed to work. I was sure Ben was doing a much better job than me—when we made eye contact once his smile was huge and looked completely genuine—but that was fine. I felt like I was successfully coming off as open and friendly. The thought of my own success made my own smile a tiny bit more genuine. Minodora, at least, seemed excited and thrilled. The Capitol people screamed our names, reaching towards us with grasping hands.

The Peacekeepers ensured that they couldn't actually grab us, though occasionally fingertips brushed against me and I had to force my fake smile to remain on my face after it wavered the first time someone touched my shirtsleeve.

Finally, that part was over. We were through the crowd of people and being ushered into vehicles that would apparently take us to something called the Remake Center. I sagged with relief once the car pulled away from the train station, glad to get away from the throngs of onlookers, even though I knew I'd need to get used to it in the oncoming days.

"I just knew you could do it!" Minodora said excitedly from the front seat of the car. She was beaming at Ben, but when she glanced at me, she actually had a mildly approving look in her eyes. Apparently, I hadn't done too badly. I hung onto this tiny victory during the relatively short car ride to the Remake Center.

…

The Remake Center was absolutely miserable.

As soon as we'd arrived (two? Three hours ago? Time seemed endless in this horrid place), I'd been introduced to three people from my "prep team." They had separated each of the four District 7 tributes and I'd been yanked down a hall, into an elevator, down another hall, and then into my own private room and (as I quickly discovered) personal hell. It all happened so fast I could scarcely breathe.

They had then stripped me down. At first, it was a mortifying concept. Even more so since one member of my prep team was a man. I'd tried to resist, and hesitated to take anything off. I wasn't the most modest person on the planet or anything, but I wasn't used to strangers seeing me naked. Ever. Hell, there weren't even any boys back home who had seen me completely naked, let alone these strange-looking people from the Capitol.

But I had quickly realized my protests were useless. One of the people on my prep team—Althea, a curvy woman with vivid green curls and matching swirling green tattoos around her eyes, which were an unnatural shade of light purple—had been way too happy to step in and help me peel off my shirt and pants, then my undergarments.

Apparently, they weren't critiquing me just yet, though. There was "too much work to do" first. I barely had a chance to cross my arms self-consciously after my underwear was removed before I was being dragged across the room towards a bath filled with water and something fizzy. I stepped in quickly, eager to at least partially hide my naked body from the prying eyes.

My eagerness dissipated as they began to scrub at me. Every inch of me. None too gently. First there was some sort of abrasive scrub, then another type of abrasive scrub. Then a soap that was cool on my skin, which wasn't too bad, then a foamy soap, then another abrasive scrub, then finally something soft and oily. Then they started on my hair, which was marginally more pleasant as they poured water over my head (I half expected them to dunk me in the water) and eased some type of scrub through it. My hair alone went through three or four rounds of washing and different perfumed soaps.

I didn't even bother trying to keep up. I had initially asked a few questions about what they were doing, but found half the words out of their mouths didn't make sense to me. Besides, they were all too keen to chatter to each other while they worked. At first I listened, before I realized they were either talking about Capitol gossip and names I didn't know (not interesting) or which were the best looking tributes this year (I didn't really want to think about that).

It was definitely an odd feeling. I hadn't been bathed by someone else since I was a child. And it was quite awkward, as they made me shift positions pretty consistently so that they could reach "every nook and cranny", as they put it. They had all types of rags, sponges, brushes, and little detachable nozzles to accomplish that feat. Talk about uncomfortable. Even more uncomfortable when it was the male member of my prep team doing it—Arsenio was his name, a thin man with shockingly light blue hair, pale lipstick, and overly-shiny skin. I instinctively tried to shield myself a few times when they forced me to shift into slightly more compromising positions, but they were having none of that.

They were clinical about it, I realized after the third or fourth time they impatiently forced my shielding arms away from my body, not even pausing in conversation to do so. They'd probably done this a million times. As they worked, I was able to loosen up just a little bit as I thought about it. This wasn't awkward for them. I shouldn't make it more of a big deal than necessary. I had much worse things ahead of me than this.

The bath was much nicer than the one at home. A continuous stream of warm water kept it at the same level, while some sort of complicated drain system on the other end of the tub simultaneously got rid of the old water and dirt. I tried my hardest to relax, at least by the time they were on the third or fourth round of hair cleaning.

Then my bath was done, I was pulled up out of the bath unceremoniously (crossing my arms despite my attempt to not be awkward), and they had me stand on a panel on the floor. To my shock, a heater below me turned on, blow-drying my body. It wasn't unpleasant. I was even more befuddled when they placed my hand on a box that caused an electric current of some type to dance along my skin and my scalp, drying my hair in just a matter of seconds.

That didn't seem possible. I couldn't fathom such a thing back home. It was just so…unnecessary.

To my great relief, I was then wrapped in a thinner white robe and sat down into a nearby chair. I glanced down at my skin; it looked a bit red and definitely cleaner than ever before.

They'd then started on my hair, bringing out an imposing pair of scissors. I was horrified, at first, before Althea assured me that they weren't going to cut much, just trim and shape it. I tried to keep still and silent as they worked, but I still felt very mistrustful. Fortunately, true to her word, they didn't seem to cut much off. There was a mirror across the room, but they wouldn't let me go over there or see their handiwork yet "until the masterpiece was complete." Althea insisted that it looked good, and that having a couple more layers to my hair was more in "Capitol fashion."

They had then forced me to leave the chair and lie down on a nearby table, fortunately allowing me to keep the robe. Next up were my fingernails and toenails. I did not possibly understand the purpose of having these "buffed and shaped" as they put them. It was almost comical, though, when Arsenio looked absolutely horrified at the state of my nails when he examined them after the bath.

"I chew on them sometimes when I'm nervous," I had said a bit sheepishly. He looked personally offended and made a comment about me making his work even harder before Althea shushed him (she seemed to be a bit bossier than the other two) and insisted he get to work.

And then, after that, came the real torture. The hair removal portion of the day. The Capitol apparently had something personal against tributes with body hair.

They made me remove my robe for this bit, and I felt miserably exposed as I lay on the table. Every inch of me was visible to their judgmental eyes. I knew they had seen many tributes like this and I tried to reassure myself that I didn't look any worse than them, but it was still an awful feeling. Helpless, cold, vulnerable. I tried to shield myself somewhat with my arms and hands as best as I could, but soon Arsenio threatened to have me strapped to the table if I didn't stop moving.

So I forced myself to lie there, letting them make me over, make me suitable for Capitol viewing. My face was flushed with embarrassment. My nudity was soon pretty low on my list of concerns, though, once they started the painful process of ripping my hair out.

They seemed intent on removing hair from everywhere. Top half, bottom half, underarms…they even tinkered with my eyebrows for some reason. Arsenio had some tiny tool and was occasionally pulling out individual hairs above my eyes. It hurt a little, but was more annoying than anything. I tried not to glare at him too much while he worked. The third member of my prep team, Lotus, was working on my arm and underarm hair. She was the most unnerving to look at of the three- her skin was a very light shade of pinkish-purple, and she'd had enough work done on her face that it looked unnaturally angular. She'd even had work done on her ears, to make them into a pointed shape. She didn't really look human anymore.

Other than my eyebrows, in order to remove the hair they were putting some sort of sticky substance on me, followed by a strip of cloth, which they'd press down for several seconds before ripping it off and repeating the process.

It was awful. It wasn't the worst pain I'd ever felt in my life or anything, but sharp pain still radiated from whatever site they were yanking the hair from every time they did it. Some areas hurt more than others. I kept my jaw clenched, teeth gritted together, trying to remain as silent as possible, though occasionally I would let out a sharp hiss, a quick jerk or grunt of pain, or even the choice swear word. They were not amused by that, but at least I wasn't trying to fight them off. I knew this was something I just had to deal with. Fighting them would only prolong it.

Althea got the lovely task of waxing the lower half of my body. That was definitely the worst part. She even insisted on waxing the area normally covered by my underwear…as if anyone would be seeing that.

I jerked with the jolt of pain that came with the next strip of hair that came off, and Althea winced, as if even she knew that had to hurt. "Don't fret dear, you're doing great!" She said in a lilting voice, Capitol accent even thicker than Minodora's. I didn't think so. I couldn't help the sarcastic scoff that emerged.

"I didn't realize body hair was so offensive to look at," I couldn't help but mutter resentfully.

Another strip of hair, another jerk.

"Oh, yes. Quite," Althea responded primly.

Then another yank, another patch of hair gone, though I managed to keep more still this time.

Fortunately, mercifully, it was over several minutes later. My entire body felt raw and cold. My skin stung. Glancing at my arm, it was bright red. Did they want to send me to the Tribute Parade looking like I'd cooked under the sun for days?

"This will help ease your skin, though it may sting at first," Althea said then, as if reading my thoughts, before they started rubbing lotion over nearly every inch of my skin. I tensed, gritting my teeth again as it did smart a bit for the first few seconds, but quickly afterwards I felt a cooling, soothing sensation wash over me and I relaxed. The lotion acted quickly and most of the pain vanished momentarily, just leaving me with the bare feeling that came with being so hairless. It only took another moment or two for my skin to return to a mostly normal color.

After that ordeal, it was finally time for them to examine their handiwork in full and make any finishing touches.

I stood there, feeling like a naked little rat under their scrutiny as the prep team circled me like vultures and made a couple more tweaks to some out of place hairs, pulling them out with the small tool used by Arsenio earlier. This time, I forcibly kept my arms at my side, as much as I hated feeling this exposed. By now they'd seen and scrubbed every inch of me. There was nothing else to hide.

Besides, I was making the same observation now as I had in the tub. Their gazes were clinical. They weren't bothered in the slightest bit by the nudity. They were viewing me as their project, their "blank canvas" that they wanted to improve before my stylist got here.

"Well," Althea said contemplatively. "You're still a bit too skinny. Definitely try to eat as much as possible before you go into the Arena, dear. They just don't feed you enough out there."

I wanted to make some sort of snappy reply, but she wasn't trying to offend me. She just didn't know better. I nodded stiffly, but Althea wasn't done.

"Overall, though, you'll do. Certainly an improvement from when you first walked in just covered in all that hair."

Arsenio was nodding, while Lotus stood quietly. "Much better than the last couple we had to work with," he muttered under his breath.

Althea nodded again, and then her brightly colored lips quirked in a smile. "Yes, I think you'll look quite lovely once Orea gets her hands on you." Her smile widened and she clasped her hands together, making an excited noise. "Oh she's just amazing, I'm so excited to work with her this year! She's new, brought on specifically for the Quell!"

I tried my best to muster up what I hoped was an enthusiastic smile. It probably looked out of place on my face.

But Althea didn't seem to notice if my smile seemed fake. "Well, it's time for you to meet her, I think! Wait here—we'll go get her."

She must've seen my eyes flick over to the discarded robe because she continued, "Don't put that on. She'll want to have a look at you."

I nodded again, not really able to do anything else. And then my prep team was gone, leaving me alone again. Naked. Standing in this room, my skin feeling weirdly sensitive and cold and exposed to every tiny current of air.

The door opened again a moment later, and the dark-haired woman that must've been Orea strode in.

I was immediately intimidated. She was tall already, but wore heels that added to her imposing height. She had very long, thick black hair that cascaded in waves down her shoulders and back; there was no way it could be completely natural, it was just too shiny, every strand perfectly in place. It fell all the way too her waist. Unlike most other Capitol citizens I'd seen, she didn't have it pinned or curled in some sort of elaborate getup.

She stopped in front of me, looking me up and down with a haughty expression. She had eyes an unusual shade of silver, clearly unnatural as well. Her lips were painted silver to match her eyes, and she had silver eyelashes as well, as long and thin as spider legs. Her eyes were encircled by bright purple eyeliner that enhanced their silver color. Her fingers were absolutely covered with expensive rings, heavy bangles on each of her wrists. One of her eyebrows had two expensive-looking hoops in it, some sort of tiny purple gemstones inset in them. I saw hints of faint, curling silvery tattoos just visible above the collar of her fancy, high-necked shirt. I couldn't guess at her age. Maybe 30s, but it was impossible to tell in the Capitol.

She had started circling me just as the prep team had earlier. She had a contemplative, haughty look on her face as those unnerving eyes scanned every inch of my naked body.

Like earlier, I forced myself to stand still, arms at my waist. I made a concerted effort not to fidget. I felt like that would annoy her, and I knew it was important to be on acceptable terms with my stylist to have a shot in this thing. I didn't want her sending me out there naked.

"Hmmm," she finally said after a long moment. "Not bad. I've seen worse, especially from District 7. Shorter than I'd like, but I already made some small changes to account for that after watching the Reaping." She had the same Capitol accent, but her voice was slightly lower pitched (and therefore less annoying) than the others I'd heard. "Someone of my talent can certainly work with this." The corners of her silver lips quirked up in a small, self-satisfied smile.

I remained quiet. I seemed to have at least passed her inspection. I felt a small trickle of relief. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, then. "I am Orea, though I'm sure you're smart enough to have figured that out."

I nodded, unsure how to respond. I decided a basic, civil greeting would do. "June. Nice to meet you."

"June, get dressed and follow me through that door and into the sitting room. We can talk about what I've envisioned for the Parade."

I followed her into the adjacent room after throwing the robe on with some relief. I was still wishing I had a chance to go look at myself in the mirror, but Orea was standing by the door watching me and I figured she'd give me a chance to look at myself later, after I was all done.

There were a couple of couches in here, a table between them. My eyes were caught, however, by the wall made entirely of glass, presenting a view of the Capitol in all of its glory. I guessed it was around 1pm, judging by the position of the sun in the sky. The sun glinted off all of the sleek, metallic buildings. It almost hurt to look at.

"Please sit down, June," Orea broke me out of my thoughts, pointing at the couch across from her, on the other side of the table. She struck me as not the most patient woman.

I did as she ordered.

"Are you hungry?"

Truth be told, I still felt mostly satisfied from breakfast, but I knew it would be a good idea to eat as much as possible when I was here. She leaned over and pressed a button, and to my amazement, there was a grinding noise and the tabletop in front of us split open with a grunt. From somewhere below, another table rose, and there were platters of food on it. Chicken with some type of sauce drizzled over the meat, another salad with candied nuts, a platter of fruit, a plate full of fluffy rolls. Piles of steamed vegetables, a bowl of roasted mushrooms, and even a type of fluffy cake I didn't recognize. I didn't dare to ask Orea what it was, though.

My shock must have shown on my face, because Orea raised an eyebrow as she gestured at me to eat.

She could press one button and all this would appear? I couldn't fathom it. I couldn't fathom the differences between the Capitol and home. As luxurious as all of this was, I felt another pang of homesickness, and a wave of revulsion for the Capitol people who lived like this and didn't know how good they had it.

It didn't seem like Orea was going to eat, but I knew I shouldn't waste this chance. I grabbed a plate and begin to stack it with some of the chicken, vegetables, rolls and a couple pieces of fruit.

She spoke as I started to tuck into my food, mostly avoiding looking at her. She still intimidated me, and I doubt she particularly liked me. At least I had passed her eye-test, though.

"As you know, we are encouraged to design costumes that fit with the theme of your districts."

Oh, I definitely knew that. The District 7 tributes very often looked ridiculous, dressed as trees and not in a way that looked good. I remembered they had been dressed as origami one year, which was somehow worse.

I could hear a sneer in Orea's voice as she continued. "Of course, I don't want to go entirely against tradition. But, I hate to say it, your district usually has some of the most appalling costumes."

I glanced up to her in surprise, mid-bite. She correctly guessed my question without me asking it. "Oh, I had nothing to do with any of those atrocities," she said dismissively, waiving a hand with disgust. "And lucky for you, the main stylist from the last several years no longer works with this District. The Capitol really cleaned out a lot of the less desirable talent."

I felt relief at that. I realized it was probably because District 12 had stood out so far from everyone else; the Capitol didn't want that. It wasn't as interesting for them if one district's costumes clearly stood out that much.

Orea continued, some of the haughty tone returning to her voice. She certainly thought highly of herself. "So, when an opportunity arose this year for more stylists to be involved in the Games, I saw my chance. I've always loved a challenge, after all. I've been planning this costume for months."

That sounded…promising? I wasn't sure.

"After Cinna made those absolutely outlandish costumes for District 12 last year, I knew the bar had been raised. Many stylists will be trying to one-up him this year. Especially with so many of us making our debut this year."

I paused again after swallowing a bite of roll, looking up at her warily. Was she going to set us on fire? That wouldn't exactly work with the lumber district…

Orea snorted contemptuously. "Oh, I'm not thinking about doing anything drastic. It's just that other stylists and I knew we'd need to go with a new look. There's no sense in clinging to tradition if it hinders your…creative liberties." A slightly sly tone entered her voice as she said the last two words.

I suddenly felt nervous. "Creative liberties?" I couldn't help but ask.

Oh, please don't have me be naked, I thought, feeling my stomach lurch with dread. I've been naked enough today.

Orea's expression now matched her tone as she surveyed me with a hooded gaze.

Maybe it wouldn't be nudity, but I still found myself continuing, "I will be wearing clothing at least, right?"

"More or less." Her light shrug was not encouraging, though part of me felt like she was just toying with me on purpose.

Please don't do anything crazy. I thought, returning to nervously picking at my food.

Orea was silent for a moment, and she settled back against the couch, still watching me with a look in her eyes that made me nervous.

"Don't worry. It'll be memorable," she added, voice nearly a drawl, though she didn't sound like she cared if I worried or not.

"I believe you." What else was I supposed to say?

It is definitely going to be something awful. I thought. There was no way that expression could mean anything good.

After another minute or two where I ate and she sat in silence, watching my every move like some sort of predator watching its prey, she finally spoke again.

"Finish up. We have a lot of work to do."

…

I felt a slight sense of foreboding as my prep team returned to the room from earlier (the torture chamber, in my opinion) and began to scurry to and fro, in andout of the room, bringing different things with them.

The first thing they had me get into was a matching underwear set. The pieces were made up of some odd material unfamiliar to me. The set was skin-colored, the bra strapless. From a distance, I probably already looked naked. It clung tightly and seamlessly to my skin.

I waited for the rest of the costume…and it didn't appear. My stomach sank.

Guess it was too optimistic to think I wouldn't be close to naked. I'll be going out there in my underwear. Great.

I swallowed hard, but kept my mouth shut. I did not want to show this much leg at the event, or my stomach, but did I have a choice? I had to trust my stylist, right? Orea's eyes were glittering with whatever plan she had cooked up in her head as she began to bark orders to the others. I knew better than to question her right now.

"Do you need water?" Althea asked. I nodded, and she brought me a glass that I quickly finished off. Apparently, I would be standing for nearly the entirety of this ordeal.

And then my prep team began clustering around me, Orea strutting around and barking orders to each of them, bags of accessories and materials scattered all around.

It didn't take me long to realize that the majority of my body was going to be painted for this event. That's why Orea wanted to get started so early – she only had a few hours to accomplish this task. Althea beamed at me, telling me Orea was one of the best body artists in the city. I idly wondered if she'd done her own tattoos, the silvery designs I'd seen just above the collar of her shirt. I hoped this would all be completely temporary. I also hoped it would conceal how little clothing I was wearing.

She approached me then, pulling up a chair to sit as close to me as possible. It was unnerving having her such a short distance away, but I brushed off my unease. She would be doing the majority of the painting and body art, with the prep team assisting as needed. They would be mostly working with the costume's accessories (quite a few, apparently), and then doing my face makeup and hair sporadically when they wouldn't get in Orea's way. Even with all of them working together, it would take a few hours. I only hoped it would be ready in time. If Orea was truly an expert at this, I supposed I should have faith.

I wondered what my fellow District 7 tributes would be wearing. They'd be coordinating to some extent, right?

Orea told me that she'd be painting the majority of one leg, most of my torso and back, and then one arm. Accessories would be worked into the getup afterwards. "It will only get worse for you the more you move," she warned me. How was that supposed to help me not fidget? I had no clue.

At first, I gave a jolt with the tiny, cold brush touched my skin, and Orea gave me an absolutely withering look. But I quickly adjusted to the sensation, and stood still as much as I could. The prep team had been kind enough to give me padded shoes to wear, which at least made standing for a long period of time more bearable.

Not that it was hard for me. I stood for hours and hours working at the paper mill.

Orea quickly got to work, painting, and sharply telling me to "look straight ahead" when I tried to crane my head to watch her progress. She wanted me not to really look at myself and her progress until the whole thing was done. They'd even hung my robe up over the mirror so I couldn't even get a glimpse of myself as I stood in the center of the room, closer to the mirror than earlier. My stylist clearly had a flair for the dramatic.

Lotus sat next to her, carrying the various body paints and brushes Orea was going to use. I did notice it was mostly earthy colors, which made sense. Orea was mostly silent as she worked at first, mainly speaking to order Lotus to give her a different brush or color of paint.

Orea did say that these body paints were incredibly unique and expensive. They settled on the skin smoothly and quickly, and were waterproof – though the shower back at the Training Center where I'd be staying had plenty of soaps to remove it after the Tribute Parade tonight. She also said the paints dried incredibly quickly, making it more feasible to get this done in time.

Behind me, Althea was in charge of my hair. Orea was currently working on painting the side and front of my left lower leg, so Althea could mostly stay out of the way. I felt heat being applied, and I was informed they had decided on curling it. A couple of minutes later something scraped against my scalp as Althea began clipping something to my hair. Without me having to ask, she told me they were extensions. My hair was long already, falling past the band of the bra midway down my back, but she said she wanted to add some body to it and make it even a few inches longer.

Arsenio, meanwhile, appeared to be in charge of organizing the accessories and making some last-minute tweaks and adjustments to them. He kept coming over and measuring a random part of my body, muttering to himself, then returning to the pile. He was against the far wall behind Althea, so I couldn't directly see what he was doing and Althea didn't like when I turned my head too often.

They seemed to make pretty quick progress. I could feel how quickly the paint dried, like Orea said. She moved with confident and deft strokes. I really wanted to stare straight down and see every little thing she was doing, but I knew that would annoy her. I resisted my curiosity and instead kept my gaze ahead, letting my eyes rove about the room or occasionally settle on Lotus. The pointy-eared woman didn't speak as much as the others, and when she did her voice was so quiet I could barely hear her.

When Orea reached my torso sometime later and started on my left hip and side (Althea moving to get out of her way), I had to fight not to flinch away at first. I bit my lip. "Ticklish?" Althea asked in a sing-song voice. I nodded.

While Orea and Lotus were mostly quiet from the beginning, as the minutes turned into hours Althea and Arsenio were most certainly not. When he wasn't muttering to himself, the two of them kept a steady stream of chatter about Capitol gossip. I just had no idea how they found it so entertaining; how they memorized so many tidbits of information. I tried to tune them out as the time passed.

After a while, though, it became harder and harder to bite back the snarky comments. Especially when I had nothing better to do than stand here, trying to move as little as possible. I barely kept my mouth shut, remembering Johanna's advice and picturing the murderous look she'd give me if I pissed my prep team and stylist off.

It was way too difficult to keep my thoughts to myself, but I managed it. Practically a feat when it came to me…but a necessary one in this case.

At some point in the midst of the two of them chattering about a yellow-haired woman with no fewer than six lovers, Orea shifted over and began painting my back. After she had been doing that for some time, Althea came to my front and told she was going to start on my makeup while she was out of Orea's way. I closed my eyes when she instructed me to as she began to brush a powder over my skin.

Then they started talking about the tributes again. I wanted to tune the two of them out, but there wasn't anything else to focus on right now, particularly with Althea standing directly in front of my face, and my eyes closed as she applied another round of powder, this time focusing on specific parts of my face and my cheekbones.

I'd been doing a pretty good job today of keeping my emotions reigned in, especially after last night. I'd been focusing on the moment, not what was ahead. I couldn't well tell the two of them to shut up, though. Not when they had me in such a delicate position.

"So many handsome men this year," Althea was gushing. Ugh. This again?

"You say that every year," Arsenio replied.

"Well, it's usually true!" She insisted, voice rising slightly with indignance.

Arsenio just scoffed.

"That boy from District 1 is really nice," Althea stated, slightly dreamily. Lambent, my brain mentally supplied. I didn't say it out loud. I did not like this topic of conversation. I knew this was probably a common thing to talk about here in the Capitol around the games; there was a reason the more attractive tributes got more Sponsors. I was just uncomfortable talking about how handsome the people were that would be trying to kill me. I didn't want to talk about the tributes' looks at all. It didn't matter what they looked like. Most of them would die.

Lotus spoke up then, surprisingly. "The boys from 4 are too," she said softly.

"Oh, very good point!" Althea agreed eagerly. "Oh, and that other blonde boy too, from 2. With those giant muscles. Just think of what he could do."

Snap my neck, I thought. Impale me with a spear. Bash my head in with a rock. Drown me. Decapitate me with a sword. Bury an arrow in my skull. Sink a knife into my back. Probably just pick me up and shake me, honestly. That would break something, I'm sure.

Somehow, I did think that's what Althea was thinking.

"What's with that scowl? Not your type, then?" She asked, sounding all-too interested. Of course my response had shown on my face.

"I prefer guys who aren't planning to kill me," I responded sardonically, unable to help myself. I inwardly winced…I had been doing such a good job at curtailing the sarcastic comments all day, remembering Johanna's advice and knowing I needed these people on my side, as annoying as they could be.

But, to my surprise, Althea let out a squealing little laugh. Apparently, she didn't realize how serious I was being.

Then her voice became sly. "You know, that one boy from your district is very handsome too." My eyes were closed – she had started doing something to my brows. I could practically sense her waggling her own eyebrows suggestively. I scoffed, but said nothing.

"Do you know him?" She was prying now, clearly hoping for some sort of love story like the one from District 12 last year.

"Not really. We had a few classes together at school," I replied, keeping my voice neutral. There was nothing to tell there. She wasn't getting anything out of me.

"Oh, is that so?" She said innocently. Too innocently. I was not breaching this topic. Benjamin was handsome, but I had zero in interest in him beyond the awkward somewhat-comradery we were forming. That would be a terrible idea in the games. They wouldn't let anyone pull another District 12.

I decided to change the subject, at least a bit. "Is he going to have a costume that coordinates with mine?" I asked nobody in particular.

My eyes were still shut, as Althea began to brush something soft against my lids.

"Yes," Orea said shortly. I was grateful she didn't leave me wallowing with Althea's desperate need for gossip. "One of my former apprentices is working as his stylist. She's good—of course she is, I trained her myself."

"What about the other two from my district?"

"I don't know."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, causing an irritated huff from Althea as she then had to make adjustments. I tried to stand more still.

"You don't know?"

"At first, we thought that all of the stylists from each district would coordinate. The others certainly could have used some of my vision. But the Capitol insisted that the stylists work in pairs, not as a group of four. Each district will have two distinct looks." She scoffed. "Don't worry. Your look will be better." There was that trademark arrogance again, but I didn't really mind.

I wondered why the Capitol had done that, had separated each district into two groups. Then again, I realized, this year was different. We were going to be officially paired in alliances with people outside of our district. There probably wouldn't be as many district alliances this year, except maybe the Careers. It was pointless to present a united front out the gate by making every district look completely cohesive, I supposed.

But the Capitol didn't want everything being totally tacky and uncoordinated with four unique looks per district, so they settled for the middle ground. Maybe they should've just waited to have the parade until after the Tribute pairs were decided, I thought. Then the coordination in groups of two would make sense.

That would be difficult, though. We wouldn't even know who our partners were for a few days. It would be really unrealistic for the stylists to come up with something that would suit both districts in such a short span of time if the Tribute Parade occurred after the pairs were announced. Orea said she'd been planning this costume for months, and had even made some last-minute adjustments after seeing I was on the shorter side. I was sure she'd planned the costume for my solo interview too. Hopefully it involved more clothing.

She'd probably already really have her hands full coming up with a costume for the duo interviews, which took place two days after the pairings were announced…but that look wouldn't have to be as intensive or coordinated as a Parade costume. I figured coming up with a Parade costume in a two-day span would be nearly impossible.

"I believe it," I responded then, realizing I hadn't said anything when Orea said our look would be better.

I was told to be quiet, then, as Althea started applying something slimy to my lips.

The time after that started to pass surprisingly quickly, given the mundane and borderline-irritating chatter from Althea and Arsenio. Orea moved across my back and up, focusing on the right side the higher she went. She spent quite a bit of time on upper right back and shoulder blade. Then she scooted around to my stomach and Althea paused in makeup duties, returning to my hair as Orea began working. I remembered she said she wanted to start with my left leg, then work up and right across my torso (working around the bra and panties, though; I wasn't sure how she'd deal with those), and finish with my right arm. Therefore, the other arm and leg would be mostly bare. I couldn't help myself; I was getting more and more curious to see the end result.

I did jerk a couple times when she painted my stomach; I was so ticklish I couldn't help it. She was not amused, and quietly hissed as she had to correct whatever problems I caused. I still didn't look down, because she had reminded me multiple times that "there were no sneak peeks and I would wait to see it all at once."

Finally, after spending a bit of time on the lowest part of my neck and sone of my upper chest, she was on to my right arm. As soon as she got to that point, Althea returned to my front and told me to close my eyes again. I felt her swipe eyeliner on my lids. Then I was forced to awkwardly try to leave my eyes open, staring straight ahead as she applied something to my lashes. I could somewhat see Orea's work on my arm out of the corner of my eye, and it made me catch my breath.

Arsenio came over, then, and began applying the accessories starting with my lower half. He was twisting thin, cold pieces of something strategically around certain parts of my body. He mostly kept my right leg bare, but he brought something slightly heavier over and spent several minutes fastening it around my waist. I couldn't glance down because Althea had asked me to close my eyes again, but I felt it settle on my hips. It appeared to be made up of multiple winding pieces of varying thickness. Hopefully it mostly covered my underwear.

Then he was winding a couple more pieces around my waist – something slightly softer and thinner ticked my stomach and I tried not to jump.

As Orea reached the end of my right arm and approached my hand, something else on the thicker side was wrapped around my bra, clasping behind me. It fit perfectly, which made sense due to his measurements earlier. A couple parts of it poked into my back a bit, but he quickly adjusted them. I felt like some of the pieces of the accessory jutted out in front of around me and above my shoulders. My curiosity grew.

Then, he was winding things through my now-curled hair as Althea was messing with the area near my eyes, brush tickling my skin. Lotus helped me out of the comfortable shoes and into some new ones. They felt like thin, low sandals that left my toes open, so my feet were more or less bare. She then spent a few minutes messing with the shoes and attaching accessories to them. Arsenio settled something circular in my hair, and spent a couple minutes fastening it in place. He then moved and wrapped a few more of the thin, cold accessories around my right arm while Althea was finishing up my makeup.

And then, what must have been three or four hours after we started, I was done and they were looking at me.

"Oh, doesn't she just look wonderful!" Althea practically squealed, clasping her hands together. Arsenio nodded, looking impressed, and even Lotus had a smile on her face.

Orea just shrugged. "Of course she does. It's my handiwork," she replied coolly, silver eyes focused on me. "Are you ready to see it?"

I nodded, feeling my nervousness grow despite myself. They led me from the mirror, pulled down the robe covering it, and I was left staring open-mouthed at the girl looking back at me.

I barely recognized myself. I studied my costume as my prep team babbled and Orea watched silently. I was starstruck.

They had been right – Orea really did have a gift. I looked like…some sort of mythical being from the forest come alive. That was the best way to describe it.

The body paint was in mottled shades of green, brown, tan, white, and even occasionally a bit of yellow. It looked like I could blend straight into the woods. The details and patterns were intricate; it was incredible to look at. It wound up my left leg, across my stomach and parts of my torso, above my bra and the lowest part of my neck, then along my right arm. Twisting, I could see it stretch across my back as well, winding up from the left side to the right. I saw the tiny details painted within it, what looked like various sizes of branches trailing across my skin. The paints were vibrant, perfectly blended, and almost seemed to shimmer and slightly change color as I moved and they caught the light. I truly looked like I'd just emerged from the forest floor. Like I had a living forest growing on me.

The accessories added even more to it. The thin, cold pieces that Arsenio had been twisting up my left leg and right arm looked like branches, and there were even small, realistic-looking leaves of various shades of green along the branches. They complimented the paint nicely. My feet were in small sandals that merged with the body paint well, but didn't detract or draw attention from it. The paint had been blended in such a way that you could barely tell I was wearing any shoes – the ends of the fake branches had been glued to parts of the sandals, further contributing to the illusion.

Around my hips (and the area my underwear covered) was an accessory piece of wider looking branches and leaves, conveniently positioned and placed flat against my skin to conceal my underwear and blend well with the body paint, without standing out too much or detracting from the body paint itself. It looked like I wasn't wearing underwear at all, and was just concealed by the thicker, winding branches.

A couple more fake branches connected to the accessory piece situated around my underwear, wrapping around my stomach and lower back. They connected to another accessory piece – a second set of wider, thick branches and leaves that sat over the strapless bra, providing a similar function to the accessories covering my underwear. It looked like my chest was just conveniently covered by some branches and leaves. The part of the costume covering my chest was a bit more attention-drawing, however – some of the branches were more gnarled and twisted, and jutted a bit up and out, poking above my shoulders and somewhat out to the sides. There were a couple of pieces of moss, and even a few small wildflowers interwoven with the top accessory piece.

In short, it looked like I was wearing parts of the forest itself as underwear, with the lovely body paint in between, all connected into one seamless piece…but it didn't look overly sexual or, on the other end of the spectrum, ridiculous. Instead, I just looked like I was some sort of beautiful, living part of the forest. I wasn't wearing much clothing, true, but I didn't actually feel that exposed due to the accessory pieces, winding branches, and body paint. It was still somewhat out of my comfort zone, but it was worth it to look like this.

I knew it could have been absurd-looking, if Orea weren't so good at body paint, or if the prep team and stylist hadn't also done what they did with my hair and makeup.

Because, at the end of the day, I supposed I was still somewhat dressed like a tree, in true District 7 fashion…but for once, it looked good. Using body paint and leaving strategic parts of me bare (save for the accessories) really changed the game. Instead of being tacky and ugly, this was alluring. Mysterious.

My dark brown hair hung in long, loose curls, longer even than it normally was. Additional fake leaves were strategically placed throughout it. There was a circlet of twisted branches on my head, interspersed with more leaves and a couple of the wildflowers used in the top accessory piece. It looked like I was wearing some sort of forest crown.

My face had been powdered to perfection. Whatever Althea had done with those brushes had made my cheekbones more prominent, my skin perfectly even-toned. My eyeshadow was dark and dramatic, extending fairly far outward past my lids, but Althea had cleverly included some green and brown hues in it to tie in with the rest of my outfit. My hazel eyes stood out, the hues of the eyeshadow really bringing out the green in them. My eyelashes were made long and thick by the makeup; it made my eyes look so much bigger than I was accustomed to. My eyebrows were darkened as well, and looked more arched than normal.

My lips, on the other hand, were understated compared to the rest of the outfit. A subtle hue only about a shade darker than normal. Natural-looking, but the shape of them had been carefully emphasized and was more evident than ever before.

The makeup made me look commanding and mysterious. Like some sort of all-knowing forest creature.

I realized I had been just standing there in silence, though my awestruck expression was easy to see. "It's…" I started, feeling lost for words. It was more than I could hope for. I knew there would be a lot of good costumes tonight (though I had no doubt mine would catch a few stares from the Capitol citizens), but District 7 had never been known for good costumes like this. This was definitely the best one I'd ever seen worn by a District 7 Tribute. Orea had managed to capture the spirit of the district while still making me look…well, really good. I felt a sudden rush of gratitude that choked me, and I turned to face my prep team. I could actually go into the Tribute Parade with some confidence. I never would have expected that going into today.

"It's wonderful. Of course it is. I made it," Orea said with one eyebrow raised.

Althea was wearing the biggest grin I'd seen yet on her, Lotus was looking me up and down approvingly, and even Arsenio had a smile on his face now.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," was all I could say. My rush of emotion caught me a bit off guard, but to see how well this turned out, after the day I'd had? To actually have the tiniest bit of hope that I could attract some Sponsors tonight?

My voice came out slightly choked up. I knew they could hear the authenticity in my tone. "I love it; I mean that. I couldn't have asked for a better costume. I appreciate how much you have done to help me."

For a second, I thought I saw Orea's expression soften, before the haughty look was back in place. She gave me a small nod. I smiled back at her, truly smiled.

And I meant it, too. These Capitol people were nothing like me, I knew that. I could never live with them or be one of them, and I didn't want to. I thought their lifestyles were despicable, and I knew at the end of the day they were only in this for the glory if I happened to go against the odds and win my Games. But regardless their motivations for helping me, they still were actually helping me. They didn't want to just see me go in there and die. They were trying to make me stand out. Even if they were doing it for selfish reasons, it worked in my favor. I didn't have that many people on my side, especially not yet. This would be my chance to make an impression. They'd given me a chance to make a good one. They were actually in my corner.

Althea had put a hand over her mouth; I thought she might cry. Then again, if she normally dressed District 7 tributes, she was probably over the moon about this costume.

"Ready to head down and meet Eudora and the others?" Orea asked then. I knew she'd want everyone else to see her handiwork. I couldn't blame her. I wasn't sure for a second who Eudora was, then guessed it must be Ben's stylist. That's right—we would be coordinating.

I felt a surge of nervousness rise, then, and I swallowed it down. This was it. It was time to show my face openly to the Capitol. It was time to smile, and wave, and pretend like everything was all right. It was time to face the other tributes for the first time. Time to face the people that would be trying to kill me in about a week. Time to see Snow in person for the first time.

I wasn't sure it was ever possible to be ready for such a thing. But wearing this costume was definitely the closest I could get.

I nodded.

Time to get this over with.

…

A/N: Longer chapter than I expected again...I tried my best to edit, but let me know if there are GLARING typos!

Next up the parade, and some interactions with the other tributes...muahahah. ;) I already have the chapter written and just have to edit – should be posted this weekend. It is another BEHEMOTH of a chapter and I'm super excited for you guys to read it.

Hopefully you like her outfit! A couple different fanfictions have used body paint in some form or fashion, but I don't remember if it has been used for District 7 before. I tried to make it as unique as I could. I did a lot of googling of forest/mother earth/nature themed body paint artists for inspiration.

Also thank you guys for the 4 follows and the reviews! I'm excited someone is enjoying this!