CHAPTER FOUR
"There's a big day ahead of us!"
Effie claps her hands in the air, as if the noise will make me double in speed as I pull a small pack of my few clothes together. It's early morning and I'm still half asleep. Even now, I'm not even sure what I've put in there, but I manage to remember my mockingjay pin and secure it to my shirt. I'm surprised that she hasn't said her usual, "big, big, BIG day", but I'm not about to complain.
Outside, a car is waiting to take us to the train station and from there we'll board a train to the Capitol to commence preparation for the show. Peeta and Haymitch are already waiting as I lock up the house.
I would have hugged Effie when I saw her, but the first thing that she'd said when she took one look at both Peeta and I was that we'd need to get into prep. ASAP. Surprise, surprise. Nice to see you too, Effie, and your violent pink beehive of hair looks great too.
I probably shouldn't be too harsh on her. Who knows what she went through as we were planning the invasion and I was locked up on trial.
Effie's banging on about the schedule for today as the car doors close and we head off. First prep, which will take most of the morning, and then a photo shoot so that the studio team can start preproduction. After that, a session with Dr Aurelius, perhaps to assess if we may have a nervous breakdown during filming. It probably doesn't matter if we do or not. If we do, it would just make for better television. And then she mutters something about her therapist who is apparently the top psychologist in the Capitol.
I'm not sure if I heard correctly. "Wait, you always seem so together, Effie. I can't imagine what you had to go through to see a therapist."
I'm laying it on a bit thickly, but she seems to get choked up. "Oh, you're a dear, Katniss!"
After that she goes silent, sniffing every once in a while, her hand still at her throat and her fingers dabbing at the corners of her eyes. Next to her, Haymitch rolls his eyes and takes a pull from his liquor flask. Just watching him do that makes me sick. It's hardly six in the morning and he's already started drinking. It must be Effie's presence.
On the train, a breakfast spread has been laid out for us as we pull out of the station. We eat our fill - there's the lamb stew with dried plums - but I don't touch it. I eat some hot grains with bacon, drink orange juice and after that some hot chocolate.
Haymitch goes to his carriage to lie down. Peeta and I retire to ours for a nap, leaving Effie at the table, pencilling in times and notes into her schedule book.
I close the door tightly in our carriage before turning around.
"You're both going to need prep, ASAP!" I imitate Effie in her affected Capitol accent as I collapse on the bed.
"You don't look so bad," Peeta comments.
"This old face? I'm sure the Capitol audience will love it," I say, closing my eyes. Peeta says something in return but before I know it, I've drifted into sleep.
.
When I awake, I'm lying stark naked in a bathtub of liquid. Somehow, it doesn't surprise me to be waking up here. They must have put something in our food, knocked us out for a good few hours. Maybe thought we would protest to being made up again. A full body polish, they call it. I lift up my left hand and the smooth skin that I see on my wrist confirms my suspicions.
This should make me angry, but I'm not. I feel a sense of relief. It's like erasing the scars of the past. Sure, the scar had meaning and for many, it represented me as the mockingjay. It was part of me. But it was like I was only playing along; I was playing the game. I fought when required and did what was needed. That stage is now over and this is the next level. And I need to be ready – I need a new game face.
I look over and see a head of familiar, bright orange curls. I blink and take a second look. "Flavius?"
His head whips around and a smile bursts across his face. Tears pop into his eyes and the next second, he's hugging me, even though I'm wet and naked. "Oh, Katniss! You're awake!"
"He cried when he saw you," Venia chimes. I hadn't seen her on the other side of the room, mixing different colours of nail polish on a palette. It reminds me of Peeta's paint palette in his study. "You wouldn't have liked it. So did this one."
Octavia comes out from behind the screen, her arms filled with swathes of clothing. She's buxom as ever. Her skin is now dyed a pale yellow and her hair falls about her shoulders in wavy, purple curls.
Out of the three of them, Venia looks the most normal. Still stick thin, she's kept her hair brown with added highlights of auburn, gold, and honey. Her tattoos shine golden on her pale skin and her eyelids are tinted with gold liner as well. I recognise the look. I like it on her.
It's crazy, but I'm actually happy to see them. As they wash me off and rub lotion on to my skin, they chatter on about what's happened since we last saw each other. They almost absolutely died at the verdict of my trial, and celebrated that night with a few other Capitol rebels. Apparently, it was a wild party. Flavius is gushing about Peeta, saying that he saw him earlier and he was absolutely gorgeous and he's filled out well. I swear there's a blush in his cheeks as he goes on.
When they're done, I examine myself in the mirror. The scars on my face and neck have completely disappeared and my skin smooth as silk and an even olive tone, not ridged and patchy like before.
My hands fly to my hair. It falls in silky, dark waves around my shoulders and completely covers the scarring on my scalp. It's like there's a younger, more innocent me looking back in the mirror. I feel tears pricking my eyes. How stupid! What am I crying for?
Before I can stop, the tears gush forth.
"Oh darling, don't cry! It's absolutely nothing," Venia comes up behind me with a robe and fastens it around my waist. She gives me a brief hug.
"She's coming, she's coming!" Octavia whispers sharply, dabbing away at my tears. I sniff, pulling myself together and just as I wonder who it could be, the door opens and Tigris walks in to the room.
Her leopard spots and long whiskers are unmistakeable. She's draped in a long, woollen dress that clings to her stick-thin body with a black fur wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair has been died black and cut short and blunt. She has a commanding, intimidating air about her such that my prep team shrink away to the background without a word.
"I'm sorry," I say as I wipe the tears away. "It's foolish of me to cry like this."
Tigris waves her hand in dismissal. Her nails are an inch long, painted black and filed to a fine point. "Don't be silly. The audience will love it."
She waves Flavius over. "The hair. No braid. Short like this," she indicates to some area around my shoulder. "Some curls. Frame the face."
Flavius nods seriously, absorbing every word.
She turns to me, opens my robe and pulls it off. I should feel violated, but I'm so used to this that it doesn't matter. She calls Venia over with a wave of her hand, indicating to my fingernails. "Nude pink. Nothing fancy."
Venia nods and immediately heads to her station to mix colours.
This leaves Octavia standing nervously behind her, waiting for instruction. Tigris takes her time, slowly stalking circles around me, a hunter with its prey. "They've seen the survivor, the innocent girl, the girl in love, the fighter, the rebel. That is behind you now. Coin and Snow pushed you almost to the brink of insanity. Now you are back."
She speaks in a halting manner with short, sharp sentences. I like it. No waffle, just straight to the point.
She folds her arms over her chest and gives me one last once-over. Waving me away, she pulls Octavia to the side and they disappear behind the screen to go through my wardrobe.
I pull my robe back on as Flavius guides me to a chair and begins to cut my hair. Venia takes my hand and starts on my nails. From the corner of my eye, I can see the dark clumps of hair falling to the floor. The weight on my head begins to feel lighter. I should feel sad, like I've lost something, but there's an inexplicable lift in my spirits. It's as if a part of me is being cut away. The braid is no longer. This is a new beginning. Maybe it's just what I need.
Behind the screen, Tigris is muttering instructions in her stop-start kind of way. There's talk of colours, patterns, fabrics, cuts. Pants or skirts, jackets or no jackets. They fuss over my wardrobe to the very last thread.
After about an hour, I'm tired from sitting down for so long and my legs have fallen asleep.
When Octavia, Flavius and Venia stand back and announce they're done, Tigris stalks up behind me and swings me around. She takes the makeup palette and adjusts my eyes and lips. She fingers my belt, and then frowns and pulls it off altogether. Then she takes something from the pocket of her dress and fixes it to my left shoulder.
There's a short knock on the door and Effie ushers her way through. "Twelve o'clock, it's time-!" She stops mid-way and gasps. "Oh, Tigris, you are amazing!"
My prep team burst out in a sudden avalanche of praise and agreement. Tigris shrugs and waves her long, pointy fingers in dismissal. "It's nothing."
At that, she stalks out of the room, leaving us gaping after her.
Effie stands back and looks at me, her hands on her hips. She's shaking her head in wonderment. "It took a lot of convincing to get her on board, but it was worth it. Have a look."
My prep team's enthusiasm is palpable as I turn to the mirror. My heart skips a beat. I almost don't recognise myself. My hair falls in soft, layered curls to my shoulders, parted to the side. My olive-toned skin is glowing and my eyes are heavily lined at the top and flick out and up at the sides. My lips are a glossy nude pink. My dress is fitted tightly at the top, the neck line curved and finishing just at the shoulders. The bodice is a pattern of green leaves and orange-coloured flowers. From my waist, the peach-coloured skirt flows to just below my knees. My nude patent heels are low, modest.
My hand flies to my left shoulder, to the thing that Tigris had placed on me just before she left. My mockingjay pendant.
"Gorgeous," Flavius chimes and Venia and Octavia echo in agreement. Octavia places a green knit cardigan over my shoulders and gives me a little squeeze.
"Thank you, team!" Effie says as she ushers me out and glances at her schedule. "Okay, photo shoot, quick lunch, and then to the hotel for Dr Aurelius's session."
I'd almost forgotten about that. I'm not sure what to expect this time around. The last time we had a face-to-face session, Dr Aurelius fell asleep and I couldn't be bothered.
As we stop in the thick-carpeted hallway, I look around, trying to gauge where I am. This building is unfamiliar, so I'm guessing it's definitely not the training centre. Effie leads me to the elevator and pushes the button.
"We're at the studio," she contributes as she catches me glancing through the window. "Don't worry, we have a much nicer place for you to stay while we're here – far better than the old training centre!"
That wasn't what I was worried about, but she answered my question. We get into the elevator and head up. It opens into a hall with parquet floors and tall ceilings with a huge, intricate crystal chandelier hanging down from the centre. The crevices of the ceiling are carved in detailed patterns painted in gold and on the ceiling itself is an alfresco depicting a huge feast being had by angels in the clouds.
I frown. The faces of the angels are familiar. And then it hits me. They're fallen tributes. The beautiful alfresco immediately becomes terrible and I force my gaze away to stop the nausea from rising.
Natural, bright light fills the room via huge glass windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. We're high above the city - I can see the skyline from here -and the roofs of the buildings are only just visible through the light haze of cloud. On the far side of the room, a white sheet hangs. A photographer and a group of assistants are fussing over the tall lights and cameras.
Sitting on a small couch off to the side is Haymitch and Peeta. Haymitch is slumped against the back of the couch, lazily throwing his flask in the air and catching it. I'm guessing it's long been empty. I glance over at Peeta. As I come closer, I can see that the burn scars that covered the right side of his face have disappeared too. He lifts his head up to look at me and his mouth falls open. "You look beautiful."
I see Haymitch roll his eyes next to him.
"Tell that to my prep team," I say. But inside, I'm pleased.
He moves to kiss me on the cheek when there's a sudden shriek and the photographer rushes up and pulls him away. "Not the face!"
Peeta gives me a guilty look and I try to keep from laughing.
I give him another once-over, thinking about Flavius's comments. He is handsome. His blonde hair has been cropped short and parted to the side and he's dressed in a light grey vest and a white collared shirt with a peach-coloured tie. I look over at Haymitch, who's wearing a black velvet blazer and black trousers. I'm guessing the theme here. The peach is close to Peeta's favourite colour. Green is my favourite colour. And black, I'm guessing, represents the coal from District Twelve. Or Haymitch's preferred colour, if he had any.
We spend the next hour being photographed. First by ourselves, then the three of us together in different orders. The assistants carry the loveseat over and Peeta and I are photographed sitting closely together. Looking at the camera. Looking at each other. Looking in the distance, or him looking at one point in the distance and me looking somewhere else. His arm over me. My legs tucked up onto the seat, leaning against him. We're photographed together in every position they can think of.
Haymitch is directed to come and stand behind us. First leaning over with his hands resting on the back of the couch and then standing with his arms across his chest. We're told to smile, smile more, then look serious, or look into each other's eyes with a serious look, and then with a happy look.
It's tedious and annoying.
After another hour it's over and we're all relieved. My stomach has been grumbling for the last half of the session. The photographer and his team start to pack up their equipment and Effie makes a reappearance and herds us to a smaller room to the side. A dining table stands in the centre with a food-laden buffet table set up in the corner. And next to it, an Avox stands at attention.
I frown as I look at him. His grey eyes, almost like mine, flicker to me and away in panic. I don't understand why Avoxes are still being used this way. Things should have changed after everything that happened! I take a deep breath and walk up to him.
"We can serve ourselves. Is that okay?" I ask. The Avox relaxes, his eyes glancing at the mockingjay pin on my shoulder. He nods.
Haymitch helps himself to the wine before anything else. We fill our plates. I give in to the lamb stew, which sits in a silver serving bowl kept warm over a flame, and ladle it over a generous serving of white rice. It's as delicious as I remember.
Effie picks at some salad and consults her schedule. "After this, we head to the hotel. The Grand Capitol, newly refurbished, I hear it's fabulous. So much better than the Renaissance Hotel. Dr Aurelius will meet you in your suite at three. He's told me that he would like to see you both together, Peeta and Katniss. Haymitch, yours is at six. I'd advise you to lay off the booze for now."
Peeta and I glance at each other, wondering what the doctor's got in store for us. Haymitch is silent and sullenly picking at a savoury muffin. He's drained his first glass of wine and the Avox moves to refill it, but Haymitch covers the glass with his hand. Haymitch refusing alcohol? That's a first.
I wonder what the doctor's got to say to him.