[5] - Rochelle

A/N - I got a guest review on the last chapter saying that they already knew who the Victor of this story was, because they were mentioned in my other stories as a Victor! I just want to come on here and say that this is true. For those who've read Bleeding Hearts and Ultimate Crown - first off, thanks for reading! Second, if you've read those stories, you might be able to figure out who wins the Games here since the Victor is featured in both stories in minor capacities. The suspense of this story is included for anyone who doesn't know who the Victor is already - for those who do, sit back and enjoy the ride!

~S

My stylist sighs as she dusts my shoulders with a cloud of glittery dust. She introduced herself as Marzia when I first arrived, but she hasn't said a word since. At first I thought she was just quiet, but she's been chatting with her assistants since I got here, so I think she just doesn't want to get to know me very well. To her, I already have one foot in the grave. Whatever; I couldn't care less what some Capitol stylist has to think about me.

"All done," Marzia says, peering at me through her small glasses. "Let's take a look."

Marzia wheels me around to a mirror, and I have to physically contain my reaction. The dress is absolutely hideous. Marzia has used the brightest colors she could find and draped them in a nonsensical pattern across my entire body. The dress hurts my eyes to look at.

"It's... definitely eye-catching," I tell Marzia, even though she's barely listening.

"Time for the parade, dear," she calls. "Off you go."

"Thank you," I call, but I hesitate before I'm escorted out of the room. "Actually, do you have a piece of paper I could borrow?"

Marzia furrows her brow but pulls a small pad from her pocket. I grab the pad from her hand, pulling out the pen and scribbling a series of numbers onto the page.

"Please send an order for this item in from District Eight," I tell her, passing the paper back. "Size small. I'd like to wear it for my interview."

"I can't do that," Marzia says, crossing her arms. "I'm your stylist, dear. I have to make your clothing."

"You don't have to make anything," I argue. "You have to make sure I look good. And I'll look good in that dress. I would know; I was the one who designed it."

Marzia doesn't have anything to say to that. I turn and walk myself through the door to a large hallway. Diego's standing outside waiting for me, and he's in a similarly hideous outfit. He lets out a laugh at the sight of me, and I give him a rude hand gesture in return.

"Let's go," I grumble. "These stylists are idiots."

"At least we'll be noticeable," Diego says as we walk. He's always been the optimistic one, ever since we started training together six months ago.

"I don't know how much that'll help me," I sigh. "No matter how much publicity I get, there's not much I can do with Ramona as my mentor. She's hopeless."

Diego just nods, choosing to keep his mouth shut. We both know that I've been screwed over with Ramona as my mentor - drugs are the only thing that get her out of bed, and she's made barely any attempt to get to know me so far.

"You'll be fine," Diego reassures me. "We'll be sticking together anyway. We're still on for Training, right?"

I nod in confirmation. Diego and I have been training in the orphanage courtyard for the Games for six months, so we've become quite a team. It would be in our best interest to stick together, not just in Training but in the Games as well.

Diego and I finally reach the chariots. We're among the first tributes to arrive; I guess the other stylists took some more time getting their tributes ready than ours did. Some of the other tributes from poor Districts are also here; I give the District Nine tributes a small smile as we climb our chariot in front of them. As usual, they're in outfits made entirely of wheat. Their hand-woven straw hats are impressive, but there's nothing special about the rest of their outfits.

The rest of the tributes slowly arrive after us. The District One tributes are dressed in milky white outfits modeled after pearls, while the District Two tributes behind them are dressed in all red. The last pair to arrive is the District Seven tributes, who mount the carriage in front of us. They're dressed as trees, and it's clear that they can barely walk in their outfits. I have to hold back a laugh at the sight of the tributes struggling to climb the stairs to their chariot, but I'm humbled when I remember how awful my own outfit is.

"Thirty seconds," a Gamemakers' voice echoes through the area.

"Let's make them remember us," Diego whispers in my ear as I glance around at the other tributes.

"Well, they'll definitely remember these outfits," I mutter back as our chariot begins to move.

As we process through the parade, we're surrounded on both sides by screaming Capitol fans. Nobody seems to notice how awful our outfits are; while most of the audience seems to be watching the front of the procession, any eyes pointed to the back seem to be pointed at us. If Marzia did one thing right, it was to put us in bright colors. I offer the crowd a confident wave, trying to take advantage of the time in the spotlight.

Our carriage comes to a slow at the end of the drive, and we come to a stop behind the District Two carriage. I have to crane my neck back to see President Snow as he watches us approach. The volume of the crowd dissipates as Snow approaches his microphone.

"Tributes, we welcome you!" he calls, met with cheers from the audience.

"As you all know, the 101st annual Hunger Games is special for one important reason," Snow continues. "As announced in last year's Quarter Quell twist, each of the next twenty-five Hunger Games will contain a small twist that could change the Games. This year is first to be impacted by one of these twists, and the time has come to announce just what exactly will occur."

Diego grabs my arm as Snow reaches for a golden envelope. I glance past him to see the District 10 tributes in the chariot next to us; both of them look equally terrified. This is it - our lives depend on the contents of this envelope. Please help us...

Snow slowly slides out a card from the envelope. "This year, for the 101st Hunger Games, tributes will be competing... in pairs."

The crowd gasps at this news. Diego stares at me, his mouth hanging open. What does Snow mean by "pairs?" Will we be forced to work with someone we've never met, or could Diego and I be forced to leave our lives in each other's hands?

"Prior to this ceremony, tributes were randomly assigned opposite-sex partners for this year's Games," Snow explains. "These pairs will be linked through life and death; if one partner dies in the Arena, their partner will also be automatically killed as well."

I don't know how to feel about this news. Part of me feels like this could be my saving grace - if I'm paired with a Career, I could use them to make it far in the Arena, but on the other hand, it's more than likely that I'll be paired with someone weak. Diego and I have trained too hard for this just to die because of someone else's weakness.

"The time has come to announce this year's partners," Snow tells the crowd. "Let's begin."

"The male tribute from District Twelve shall be paired with the female tribute from District Five."

I spot the girl from Five covering her face with her hands. There's definitely no chance for her now.

"The male tribute from District Eleven shall be paired with the female tribute from District Three."

That's good news for Diego and me - the boy from Eleven is a big threat, but he could be easily picked off if we can get to his partner.

Snow reads off the list quickly. The boy from Ten is paired with the girl from Seven, and the boy from Nine is partnered with the girl from Four.

Finally, it's Diego's turn. I give his hand a squeeze as Snow continues. "The male tribute from District Eight shall be paired with... the female tribute from District Twelve," he reads.

I have to hold Diego up as his knees buckle from under him. "Come on, Diego," I strain, trying to hold him up. "Don't give up, not here!"

Diego grabs the railing of our carriage and manages to hoist himself back to his feet. He's completely pale.

"That's it, then," he whispers. "I'm done for, Rochelle. After all that hard work."

"It's not over until it's over," I reassure him. "You have me, don't forget that."

Diego just nods, but I have to return my attention back to Snow. He's already moved onto the District Five male, who's paired with the girl from Eleven. I didn't hear him mention District Eight yet, so that must mean that I'm still unassigned.

"The male tribute from District Four shall be paired with... the female tribute from District One."

I think that's the first Career to be assigned. The girl from One turns around to flash a smile at the audience as Snow continues.

"The male tribute from District Three shall be paired with the female tribute from District Two," Snow reads.

I shudder as I spot the District Two carriage - not only does the girl from Two look pissed, but the boy next to her is furious. He glances back at me with a biting fury before turning his back to me. I glance around for a moment before I realize why - the only two girls left are the weak-looking girl from Nine and me. And that's when it hits me.

I'm paired with a Career. There's hope.

"The male tribute from District Two shall be paired with the female tribute from District Nine," Snow calls, and I let out a sigh of relief. That boy looked murderous, and I want to stay as far from him as possible.

There are only two of us left now. I shift my gaze to the District One carriage, but the boy has his back turned to me. His hands are crossed over his chest, and his eyes are pointed to the ground. Next to him, his District partner is making an effort to console him. I can feel my face getting hot. If only that boy knew how lucky he was to get assigned to me. Well, he'll know soon enough, I'll make sure of that.

"And finally, the male tribute from District One shall be partnered with... the female tribute from District Eight!"