From the moment I encounter my prep team – a trio of sisters named Hera, Artemis, and Athena – I know we are not going to be friends. They usher me around the room I was deposited in the Remake Center, not caring one bit about my privacy as they shave and groom and shower every part of me.
Hera laments early on that my hair is just simply dreadful and admonishes me for an hour on seriously, how hard is it for you to take care of your hair, you District girls don't know anything, do you? I just barely manage to avoid Hera dying my whole head the same nasty shade of green as her own.
Artemis is also less than pleased with me, scolding me for not shaving my legs as I yelp each time she pulls off leg hair with what she calls "wax strips". She soon shuts up about it when I tell her that I could always try out some moves I'm saving for the other tributes on her. I then panic, wondering if that will get me disqualified somehow, so I'm sure to tell her it was a joke. Mostly. Artemis gives a shaky laugh but doesn't speak to me directly for the rest of the morning.
Athena is the least dreadful of the three. She quietly applies the make-up to my face, and there is something sweet to her smile that sets me just a bit at ease. She seems to be the youngest of the three, but she applies lipstick and mascara with a steadier hand than the others. Athena even laughed just the tiniest bit at my comment to Artemis. I decide I dislike her a little less than her sisters.
Athena is brushing my hair and the others are putting away their powder brushes and hair dryers when a tall woman with emerald eyes and bright pink hair cropped into a pixie cut. I presume that this must be my stylist. I pull my paper-thin robe tighter around myself as her surveying gaze. After a long moment, she coughed tightly, and my three prep workers scurried out without another word.
Athena gives me one more look, one that is almost reassuring, and then it is just me and this woman.
"So…. uh, you gonna tell me your name?" I ask lamely. The woman did not smile, only narrowed her eyes, and folded her arms across her chest. I see she has pink flowers tattooed to the back of each hand, the petals the same color as her hair.
"My name is Lydia," she said. "And I will be your stylist." Lydia strides towards me slowly and picked up a wisp of dark brown hair between her fingers. She nodded once to herself.
"Yes, this will do fine," Lydia said. She turned around and motioned for me to get up as well, and I followed her hesitantly. She led me into a side room with a large coffee table in the center and chairs stashed all over the place in what appeared to be organized chaos.
"Sit, eat," Lydia said. She pushed a button on the wall and the center of the coffee table opened. Up from the center came a pot of some kind of delicious-smelling stew and a tall glass of cold water. I sat in one of the chairs near the table and I expected Lydia to as well, but she just merely turned on her heel and left.
I do start to eat, but slowly. I watch the door and wonder where Lydia could have gotten off too. I doubt it's to make my outfit for the parade nicer looking, more a tune to my features. I've watched the Games for seventeen years, and I've never seen District 7 wear anything flattering.
The costume for the parade is supposed to represent what each District's trade is. And ours is lumber, and so for decades, District 7 tributes have been nothing but variations of trees. I remember a few years ago they put an actual bush on top of our tribute's heads. Something about Lydia told me she would not hesitate to do the same to me.
My thoughts turn to my mentor as I finish my soup. I hadn't had time to tell Blight I had thought of a strategy before he left me and Trapper here, while he was out schmoozing sponsors or something or other. Well, I had had time, but Trapper was on Blight like white on rice, and if Trapper did not want to share his strategy with me, I surely was not going to share it with him. I smile as I think of his prep team doing the same to him as they did to me.
I am just finishing the last of the food when I hear the clicking of heels coming my way, and then there is Lydia in the doorway, a dark green garment bag in her hands. I wrinkle my nose. I already know I am going to hate the costume. Lydia begins to unzip the bag and I see a disgusting shade of brown and I am assured my suspicions are correct, this costume is really going to suck.
Hours pass in a dizzying blur of fabric and the return of the prep team, curling irons, and lipstick and, mascara scattered across a vanity they sat me at. The three sisters keep up their chatter as they did before, but Lydia just stands over them like a hawk, observing the preparations with a keen eye. There is something frightening in her expression that makes me hope that my prep team does not mess up.
Eventually, I am placed in front of a mirror and I frown at myself. My lips are painted a dark green, the same green as the flowers woven into my hair, and I am wearing a shade of brown that makes me seem washed out and a thousand times paler than I really am. It is a slim jumpsuit, and the bodice is cut just so that you can nearly see my whole breasts, and a vine is tied around my waist. I am a poor attempt to resemble a tree.
But I am grateful for this outfit. While ugly, it is not outlandish, and most likely eyes will slide right over me in the parade. The best way to not be seen as a threat is to blend in with the crowd.
"Perfect, isn't it?" Lydia asks.
"Yes," I say. Technically it is not a lie, even if it is perfect for a different reason than she intended. The three sisters are shooed away, and Lydia leads me down to the basement, where we will begin our parade through the Capitol to the presidential mansion. By the time I arrive, Trapper is already there with his stylist and Blight.
I frown. Had Blight been with Trapper all day? While I was stuck alone the Terror Trio and Lydia? Hurt and betrayal again spike in me, but I try to push it down. This is a game of survival and I can not begrudge Trapper for using Blight to his advantage.
It is what I would do.
My and Lydia met with the others at our chariot. Every District has one, and we will go follow in chronological order. We will be just about in the dead middle, meaning most will not bother to pay us too much attention. I can see some of the other tributes by their chariots with mentors and stylists. Most look frightened, some look around in awe at the costumes. The Career tributes – 1,2, and 4, the illegal trainees – are unbothered, looking around like they own the place. I try to avoid the gaze of the District 4 girl.
"Johanna," Blight says as a greeting, smiling at me. He nods at Lydia. "Lydia, wonderful to see you again."
Lydia does not reply, only nods herself before disappearing off into the crowd. I swallow and look at Blight in confusion.
"Lydia is not one for socialization," Blight says. "She'll watch from inside the Remake Center. She does so every year." I am envious of her. I wish I could lock myself away and watch instead of being here. Then again, I am a competitor, she is not.
"I want you both to smile and wave," Blight says, looking between me and Trapper. I snatch a glance at him, and he is wearing the same as me, only he is wearing a crown of flowers instead of having them wove in his hair. He looks no better in the outfit than me. "But try and not to draw too much attention to yourselves. You don't want to look desperate for their attention."
"Aren't we though?" Trapper asks quietly. Blight nods.
"Yes, you are," Blight says. "But they don't want it to be so obvious that you are."
I suppose that makes sense but at the same time my stomach twists. As if fighting to the death for their entertainment was not enough, we must appear as though we want their attention, but so much so that it is off-putting. I think I should be entitled to their undivided attention, at least for a few minutes. I am most likely going to die for their pleasure after all.
Sounds like a bunch of phooey. I can almost hear my brother now, his laugh just out of my reach. My stomach twists again. This will be one of two times that my family will see of me before I am thrown in the arena. I hope my outfit makes them laugh. They need a laugh.
Blight helps us into the chariot, and I hear a chiming. The parade must be about to start. I turn to the front and find District One is disappearing up the ramp and onto the street above. We slowly start to make our way forward, and Blight moves back.
"Good luck!" he calls to us one final time, and then we are getting into position to be next. I bite my lip and try to ignore the churning in my stomach. The last thing I need to do is throw up and make myself more pathetic on national television. I want to appear helpless, not like a scared child.
Trapper puts a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to look at him. That fear that had been there since we were reaped is present in his eyes. He gives me a small smile, and before I can stop myself, I smile back. I notice that he has a scar at the edge of his mouth, and it reminds me of the one Jonathon has behind his ear.
Our chariot begins to tug forward, and Trapper removes his hand, giving his excuse for a show-stopping smile. I follow suit, and my last thought before being assaulted by sound and light is that Trapper may not be so bad after all.
This chapter is much shorter, but this felt like a natural conclusion, as this was more housekeeping and introducing Johanna's prep team and stylist. Next chapter will begin the real preparation for the Games, and so the plot will start to pick up. I hope you're all having a blessed day, and leave any questions, comments, or concerns in the comment section.
Review Replies:
ReadBooksWriteThings: I am so sorry for not replying to you in the last chapter - I was having technical issues with the literal document and had to post exactly what I used for AO3's version as well in order for it to be legible. But thank you so much for leaving reviews! I'm glad you think Johanna is in-character, Johanna is always a character that has intrigued me, and I have often tried to parcel how such a complex character may see herself and the world around her. And as for giving her a twin, we never find out the specifics of her early life, and I felt having a twin would be more impactful on her for what we know happens to her family because as a twin myself, losing my twin would be a breaking point I would not be able to walk back from in the same way I was before. And I'm grateful you like my writing, I am always comparing my writing to others and feeling like my work is not nearly up to snuff, but you liking it is so wonderful to hear. Thank you so much for leaving a comment, and I hope you're having a blessed day!
Chapter Bible Verse:
Then John gave this testimony: "I saw the Spirit come down from heaven as a dove and remain on him. I would not have known him, except that the one who sent me to baptize with water told me, 'The man on whom you see the Spirit come down and remain is he who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.' I have seen and I testify that this is the Son of God." - John 1:32-34 (NIV Translation)
Have a blessed day!
- PrincessChess