It's 7am when I hear Skylar calling me through my door to get up. I replay the sound of her voice in my head, and I'm sure I heard screams which sounded the same last night. Thinking that I must be mistaken, I put the thought out of my mind, as I sit up and rub my eyes. The sun is shining, the sky blue, and the Capitol buildings bright as ever. So I guess we're here. I would usually be happy to wake to such a nice day. But now that I'm a tribute, every day I wake up is a day closer to my death.

I get up out of my bed with ease, feeling awake even with my restless night. I've heard that to the Capitol citizens, getting up before noon is humanly impossible, but for me 7am is actually a sleep in. I usually wake at 6, sometimes 5.30, just so I can watch the sun rise. Maybe watching the sun rise in the arena will be the only thing I can hang on to.

Apart from my charm bracelet, I remind myself, and pick it up from the bed side table and re-fasten it around my wrist. The locket has popped open, so I catch a glimpse of Mantis before I snap it shut. I don't want to start crying again. I change into a simple t-shirt and trousers, don't bother to brush my hair (not that it would make a difference anyway.) and go to breakfast, which we're having before we go to our prep teams. I walk into the compartment and grin as widely as I can. I am going to be making sure that I'm the one making jokes this conversation, not Finnick. I don't feel in the least bit jokey, but I'm determined to seem at least a little bit like myself again.

I sit down; exchange glares with Garter, and begin to eat some toast, doing my best not to spill any crumbs like I usually do. I seem to be shaking though, which doesn't help. It's not until I'm on my third slice when I notice that every ones staring at me.

"Erm…..what?" I say to them, looking back in confusion.

"Oh nothing," says Skylar, tucking into some yogurt. She seems to look even more tired than usual, and she's as white as sheet. Nobody else seems to question it though, so I don't. "Good night last night?"

"It was so-so." I say. This isn't lying, but it's not the complete truth either. I just hope they don't know about me running off last night. "Yours?"

"Pretty good," begins Finnick in his usually purr, pouring himself some coffee, "but, I want to tell you the strangest thing that happened last night. You see, I decided to stay up a little bit and watch some TV, but just when I was beginning to drift off, I heard the funniest noises."

"Oh…..did you?" I ask. A little too innocently.

Finnick smiles. "Yes, I don't know if it was just because I was tired, but I could have sworn that I heard someone trying to get off the train." Garter smirks.

I feel my face going red, which is weird, considering I'm usually good at making stuff up. I don't know, maybe it's because I know that Finnick can see right through me. I just hope the others can't. So I look into my plate while still trying to keep the lies up. "Well, that person must have been out of there mind." I mumble.

"Yes," says Skylar, returning the smirk back to Garter, "Because everyone knows that there are hundreds of guards on this train, so trying to run off would be impossible."

I decide to try to keep eye contact, but it's getting really hard, plus there are so many eyes to contact with. "Well, maybe they weren't trying to run off, maybe they just needed some air." I say defensively.

"Yeah, maybe," continues Finnick, "but they're still pretty stupid." I don't reply. "I thought I had imagined it at first, but then, when I got up this morning, it turns out that people were saying the exact same thing!" of course, why do I even bother? They're like birds, repeating each other's melody. Obviously my little adventure has been twittering around the train all morning.

"Oh….really?" I say shakily. I know the game is up, I can practically hear the sarcasm in Finnick's voice, but I can't bring myself to confess. "What were they saying?"

"Rumours were flying all through the compartments! They were saying that a tribute girl with reddish hair was running to the door from district 4's compartment!" he says in mock shock, "Imagine that! Now, I wonder who that might be."

Again, I don't say anything.

"Paylor…."

"Alright, alright, I had to get off the train!" I cry, finally giving up. "I couldn't stand it on there a minute longer!"

They all laugh in triumph, and I glare at them, "you know, I'm going to die soon so the least you could do is not gang up on me!" I say indignantly. This at least makes Finnick stop laughing.

"I don't see what the big deal is anyway;" I say moodily, "I only needed some air."

"The deal is, that it seemed like you were running away, and that won't exactly go down well with the Gamemakers." Garter is grinning with glee, clearly enjoying me being told off.

"You could get in trouble!" says Skylar with concern. Right. Because being in a game where I'll most likely lose my life in some horribly painful, bloody way isn't already trouble.

"Never mind that, she is in trouble!" scolds Finnick, "the Gamemakers aren't going to be pleased about this! Besides, cowards don't become favourites with the sponsors."

I scowl. "I am not a coward."

"Says the girl who was afraid of the dark until she was twelve." Snubs Garter. If looks could kill.

Skylar becomes tense, thinking that another argument is about to start up, but we're interrupted by Effie coming in. She's tired, her wig not attached properly, her makeup smudged, and she's yawning a lot. "How you're all able to get up so early, I don't know." She moans, sitting down. She manages to smile sleepily and says, "So anyway, sleep well?"

"Mm" we all mumble. We don't bother telling Effie about my little escape last night. And, truth be told, I did sleep quite once I'd been locked into my compartment. There were no nightmares, (which I get quite a lot.) only odd dreams which included arrows, knives and mist, and a pair of dark brown eyes and floppy hair. This suddenly jogs my memory. That boy from last night! I sit up like a flash and ask Effie:

"Effie, do any of the boy tributes this year have dark floppy hair?" I say indifferently, trying not to seem suspicious. I know that if there is one, she'll know about it. Effie frequently tells anyone who has a pair of ears that if there's anything to know about, she knows it. She's like my mother. Who I probably shouldn't be thinking about at a time like this.

Skylar looks curious and Finnick raises his eyebrows, but both don't bother to question it. "Yes I think there is!" Effie exclaims, happy that she's finally able to help out, which we've been seeing a lack of so far. "Erm…let me think….there's the boy from 3, and I know that the boy from 6 has floppy hair…oh wait but he's blonde…and I think there's another boy…from 8 I think."

"Which one would you say is just a little bit older than me?" I ask.

"Erm, I think that would be the boy from 8." She says. She then looks at me quizzically. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, erm…..no reason." I say quickly. So the boy last night is from District 8. "Just… trying to remember all the details of my components."

"Well it's good that you're thinking about things already!" says Effie with a smile, giving me a pat on the back. "So anyway, it's a big, big day! Opening ceremonies tonight! Time to wow the crowd!" I'm not in the least able to WOW anybody, but Garter and I act like we're excited. Well, technically, I act excited. I know that any chance for Garter to show off is exciting for him.

"Well, that night sleep must have done you good." Says Skylar, tilting our heads to see them properly. "No dark circles or anything."

"Yeah, I don't think the prep team will have much work cut out for them making them into beauty base zero." Trills Effie. I wonder what that is.

"Apart from," begins Finnick, and he starts to pull my skirt up. My arm immediately jerks to slap his hand away, suddenly scared that he's taking his flirting a bit too far. But I stop myself when I see that he's only pulled the hem to just below my knee, so only my calf is showing. "This leg hair. But yes, the rest of you is looking hot." I feel embarrassed with everyone staring at my legs, so I change my mind again and slap his hand away. He sits back in his chair, grinning. "Don't worry though, the prep team will sot that out."

"They'd better," snarls Garter. "Or else she'd look like a monkey."

"Oh," I say mock innocently, "you mean like you do with that stubble?" Garter clenches his fists, but knows better than to start another argument.

"Well, hair won't be a problem for either of you." Says Effie, "let's just hope that the other tributes haven't had any sleep, and look terrible."

I immediately get an idea for a joke, and grasp the situation before it's gone. "I'm sure the district 7 tributes won't though." I say. When everyone looks at me quizzically I exclaim the punch line with a huge fake grin on my face. "They must have slept like LOGS!" I look at them, expecting them to laugh, but they just stare at me with one eyebrow raised. "You know…. Logs?" I say more quietly, making sure that they understand the joke, "district 7…lumber…. trees?"

"Yeah, we got it." says Garter, "it just wasn't funny." Mantis would have laughed. No wait, I'm thinking about home again. I've got to stop doing that.

"Yeah, I think from now on, I'll be the only one telling jokes." Says Finnick as kindly as he can, though there's a trace of a smirk on his lips. I scowl. So much for trying to be myself. Wait, why am I looking at his lips? I quickly turn my head to the bowl of fruit.

Once we've finished breakfast, which was filled with an awkward silence mixed with Effie's failed attempts to make conversation, we're quickly escorted to the exit of the train. People whisper as I pass them, obviously hearing about my running off last night. All I can hear coming from them is twitter, twitter, cheep, cheep. They do sound like birds. A pack of jabberjays to be exact. Repeating everyone's word, the gossip flying through the train. That's all the Capitol seems to care about, gossip. Oh, and ridiculous fashion. Not the fact that 23 children are dying bloody deaths every year and it's their fault. But I guess if they were smart enough to realise that by now, the games wouldn't still be going on. And I wouldn't be going to die.

The view from the opened door is absolutely breath taking. My mouth falls open and even Garter gasps a little in delight. Everything is brightly coloured, it looks like something out of a story book. It's confuses me, to think that such a beautiful place could be so full of evil. There are flying devises all over the sky, and people walking their bright yellow poodles along the street dressed so bizarrely I almost laugh out loud. Almost.

Even though I'm now closer to the Capitol, I'm feeling quite relieved to be off the train. At least now I won't be as close to the poor boy from 12. But as soon as the doors closed behind me, I suddenly remember. I've left the dress I wore on reaping day! I've left it behind! Oh no, my father worked for weeks to buy me that! I'll just have to tell Finnick how special that dress is to me, so he'll get it back for me. I remember when father came home with it like it was yesterday:

It had been a cold, wet day that day, a few weeks before the reaping. I was just walking home from another day of fishing. This time I was so excited; I had actually been able to catch one. True, it had been a big one, and it had practically swum into my net, but I had caught it none the less. I hadn't been allowed a bucket; those were only for the people who had caught loads of them, so I'd had to carry the fish with my bare hands. My palms and fingers reeked, and I was struggling to carry my spear under my arm, and to keep the net from falling off my neck, but I was smiling from ear to ear. It had been a month since I caught one, and father had seemed to be getting worse at fishing. I didn't know if it was his age, or it was the time of the year when not as many fish came, but we'd been eating a lot less meat lately. Enough to survive on, of course, we were nearly content after every meal, but usually father came home with masses of fish, now only 1 or 2.

So of course the responsibility had fallen onto to me to keep the family full, even though we were doing just fine. Mother had always been a bit of a pig. I remembered that mother had said:

"Oh dear, your fathers not getting much better, is he?" one day when he had come home with half a fish. "He's probably just being stupid. Probably where you get it from!" she gave a little laugh, and I tried to laugh along, even though my feelings were hurt. "Oh, I'm just teasing darling," she said, running her fingers through her hair. She then cupped my face with her hand. "But seriously, honey I think it's time that you stopped messing around with your fishing and learn to do it properly."

"I do do it properly." I said with a scowl. I had been trying my best hadn't I? Going to the beach to practise every day, having to face the jeers, the laughter, and of course Garter and Shiya.

"Yes well then do it properly better." Sighed my mother. "I'm beginning to die of hunger, you know that." Yes, she must have been starving from those 2 fish she had for dinner that night-plus half of father's and mine. We were the ones who went to bed with rumbling stomachs that night, not her, because I had yet again failed to come home with a single scale of a fish.

"Well then why don't you try coming home with a fish one day?" I had dared to say.

Mother scoffed a little at my cheek, but then said in the snobbiest voice she could muster, "You know I have no time for that fishing. Its slaves work." Yeah, no time at all because your too busy stuffing your face with chocolates and spending our hard earned money at the market while father and I work our butts off. Too busy making fun of everyone else, apart from Garter and Shiya. To busy complaining, flirting with other guys, and trying to put me down. She never seemed to mind the fact that Garter never volunteered for the reaping. And as for slaves work, weren't we all slaves? Slaving away, making things for the Capitol, having no say in the way Panem was run and being I forced to sacrifice our children for their entertainment?

But I had worked hard every day, doing my best. I could weave a net easily, but killing the fish was another thing entirely. I could never manage to hit the thing with the spear. Someone would usually make a sarcastic comment which made me nervous, making me do even worse. And as soon as the spike hit the water about a metre away from it, the ripples would scare it away, leaving me with an empty stomach for the night yet again.

So you could see why I was so excited to have caught one. And the fact that it was big was even better, because our stomachs would be fuller. So I was practically skipping through the town centre and smiling at anyone who came across my path, ignoring the pains in my leg where the spear would scratch it.

"That's a good looking fish," said the fish monger, walking up to me. "Fancy trading?" I considered this, knowing that the fish monger had been getting less money every day. And he was a lovable, sweet man, a little bit older than thirty but still with a boyish grin. Plus he was generally the only person who seemed fond of me, apart from Mantis and father. Sometimes when my father was busy, I would go to the fish mongers for him and I'd spend about an hour there chatting with him. Only when his girlfriend wasn't around, though. She was a bit of a trouble maker and always tried to rip me off.

But I needed the fish, and nowadays he never seemed to have enough to trade back. So I told him "sorry but no thanks." And walked away feeling a bit guilty, after a little small talk which we'd both had to cut off because he was worried that if I stayed outside any longer I would get pneumonia.

I was nearly home and so soaked my grey shirt was almost see through, when I bumped into Mantis. As soon as he made contact with me he started sniffing, a look of disgust appearing on his face. "Ew, you stink. But wait, that means…..hey, you caught a fish!" he exclaimed in delight, pointing at the slimy thing in my hand.

I raised my eyebrows as we passed the justice building. "You don't have to act that surprised." It was alright for him, he could fish just fine. He had tried to teach me once, but gave up after weeks of failure. Same as my father.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry." He grinned, raising his hands into the air. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he stuck his middle finger up back at me, but it was only a few seconds before we started joking around again. Mantis had taken the fish from me, and had made his mouth move up and down, and had begun shoving it up into my face, making it say, "kiss me, Paylor" in the silliest voice he could muster. (Which didn't seem that different than the Capitol one.) I had started squealing and shouted at him, "Ew no, get it away from me!" but even though I was trying to stay serious, but couldn't help laughing. He was just offering to carry my spear for me when Garter and Shiya appeared across the street, hand in hand.

"Umm, do you want to take the other route?" whispered Mantis. I knew he was doing it for my sake, which I couldn't help being grateful for, so I could respect the fact that I knew that part of the reason he wanted us to move was so Shiya wouldn't spot him smelling of fish.

"You bet." I hissed back, but as we began to sneak onto the other path, Garter spotted us.

"Finally managed to catch a fish, eh?" he smirked at me. "Well, apart from the one standing next to you." Shiya screamed in laughter and I saw Mantis' face give a little sigh. I wanted to give his face a little slap for being so hurt by her. I knew I did, but I hated them all, unlike Mantis. I always felt so awkward when he took these things to heart. Why did he like her? She's a stuck up, horrible *****. He could do so much better than her, I knew he could. But still, he was my friend; it was my job to make him feel better. To have his back. So I plucked up my courage, and snarled:

"Better than having a squid beside me." This wasn't much of an insult, but as I saw Garter's face turn red, I regretted it a second later. He began charging at us, Shiya laughing in the rear. Mantis and I both screamed, and we ran for our lives. We slipped and slid through the streets, some people laughing, others trying to get Garter to stop. Luckily with all that meat on him, Garter wasn't very fast, so we were able to manage to get home before he reached us.

"See you later!" Mantis cried as we reached the place where the path to our homes separated. We didn't stop, we didn't even look back as we sprinted to our houses, but I made sure to call back:

"If I don't die today!" I knew that this could become true if I didn't get home in the next 2 minutes, but I could have sworn I heard Mantis laughing.

I ran into my house like a shot and slammed the door behind me, panting. The house was pretty warm and smelled of freshly baked bread, so I felt relaxed and safe. "Mother?" I called. She was usually at the market this time, or watching the kids fish, but since the weather was dreary, she probably stayed inside all day, not wanting to ruin her hair.

"In here darling!" I heard her call from the living room. I walked in to see her keeping her feet warm by the small fire. On cold nights like that we wished that we were in district 12. They may have been a small district but they definatly had enough coal to keep them from getting cold. Mother turned away from the TV and squealed when she saw me carrying a fish. "Oh hunny I'm so proud of you!" she cried, bounding up and cupping my face in her hands. "Obviously not as many as Garter, but oh well…" I quickly pulled my face out of her grip and sat down on the sofa. "Don't sit on there!" she gasped, "you'll make it smell like fish! Go put it in the kitchen and take a shower." Scowling and rolling my, I did what I was told. "Oh, and do stop scowling like that." Mother had snapped.

While I was drying myself I heard my father come in. I heard him and mother kiss and hug hello, and then him calling, "Paylor?"

"Coming!" I called back, and quickly shoved on my clothes and ran downstairs. He was there with a big, mysterious smile on his face and his hands behind his back, and mother was struggling to see what was in them. It was surprising because usually he would have done what she wanted by now, but this time he was staying stubborn. I wondered what was behind his back.

After giving up, she said in exasperation: "sweet heart, you'll never guess what! Zara caught a fish today!" I began to correct her as I usually did whenever she called me Zara, but let it go after father picked me up and swung me round out of proudness. "So," mother continued, "how was your day?"

"Great!" exclaimed father, sitting down, still hiding what he was holding in his hands. "I caught around 10 fish today! "Mother squealed in delight again and hugged him. I smiled, and couldn't help feeling relieved. Finally, father was back on track. We wouldn't go to bed hungry anymore. I was a little bit sick of feeling like a district 12 citizen every day.

"So, where are they?" asked mother, and I started to think the same thing. He couldn't hide that amount of fish behind his back so easily. So then what was he hiding?

"Oh, I sold them." He said, still smiling.

Mothers and my reactions were for once, the exact same. "YOU DID WHAT!"

"Sold them." He said. "Just like I've been selling all our fish over the past month."

"But...But…but why?" shrieked my mother, going red in the face. It was strange, because for the first time, father didn't look scared.

"To save up for this." He said, and pulled out the thing behind him. I gasped.

It was a dress. I wasn't a tomboy, but at first I was thinking that dresses weren't really my thing. But this was not just any dress. It was a beautiful one, with gold embroidery, a floaty skirt with cotton underneath it, and sleeves made of silk. Every ripple it made bounced light off it, and the sea blue was the most tranquilizing thing I had ever seen. The real gold buttons made me realise how much it would have cost. And it was in my size. This dress, the dress that a princess would wear, was for me.

All my surroundings just vanished, my mother, my father, my home. I was captivated by this dress, and I wasn't able to imagine that I would soon be wearing it. But all of that came crashing down when my mother scorned, "why one earth did you get her that?"

"For the reaping." He said, "I want her to feel like a princess." I stayed silent.

"You mean we've starved for a whole month, just for a dress!" cried my mother. That was a cheek. Doesn't she mean that me and father starved, not her? "She'll muck it up, I should at least be the one wearing it-"

"No." said my father. "I want Zara to wear It." again, I stayed silent, and watched while my mother stormed from the room. Father looked at me, trying to read my emotions. When he saw that my expression wasn't changing, his face fell. "You don't like it, do you?" again, I couldn't say anything. The only thing I could do is run and hug him so hard that I nearly knocked him off his feet. I was so grateful I couldn't put it into words. It wasn't just that he'd bought it for me. It was that he gave up his food to buy me this. Whenever mother had taken some of my food, father would sneak some of his onto my plate, leaving him with even less. He went hungry every night, worked hard every day, just to see me wearing that dress.

I finally managed to get my mouth to say, "I love it, thank you." Father smiled, and kissed the top of my head gently. We hugged for ages, until I said, "can I wear it now?"

"Afraid not." He said, "Your mother would go ballistic." But I so wanted to wear that dress. To see what I looked in it. To see if I really looked like a princess. Thankfully father was the easiest to wear down, so after seeing my pleading face, he sighed. "Go on then." he said. "But just for a minute." He warned, pointing his finger in my face. I nodded, grinning.

I slipped it on, feeling the silk sliding effortlessly over my arms. While fastening the buttons, the gold blinded me slightly, and the hem fell to a little bit below my knees. Father came back in once I was changed, and pulled my hair out of the ponytail, so it hung loosely down my back. "There," said father with a smile, "you look just like a real princess now." And he opened the cupboard so I could see myself in the mirror that's on the inside of the door.

I gasped again. The gold and blue matched my hair and eye colour perfectly. The material fitted me perfectly, and felt as light as air. For the first time in my life, I'd actually felt pretty. I was a real princess. "Wow." Is all I could say.

I kept it on for much longer than a minute. I twirled around and around while my father clapped and cheered. We turned the TV on, and danced to the capitol anthem. (Well technically, he danced; I'd never been that good at dancing, so he lifted me onto his feet while he moved across the room.) We pretended that he was the king and I was a princess, that he was a goblin and I was a fairy. Not very mature games for a 15 year old, but I'd felt so happy I didn't care. I didn't take the dress of until late at night when mother had come downstairs and shrieked at me to change out of the dress immediately, before I ruined it.

I didn't wear the dress until reaping day, just as father had asked, but I had kept it hidden in its box in the back of my wardrobe. I opened the box occasionally just to look at it, and whenever father went away on his long fishing trips I would take the dress out and hug it, running the silk between my fingers, so it felt like a part of my father was there. Whenever I thought of the dress, I always knew how much my father loved me, and how much I loved him.

And it's still inside my compartment. But instead of asking Finnick, which I've realised, that there won't be time for, I rush to the door, and try to pull it open to get inside. But unlike last time, everyone is ready for it. Finnick immediately grabs me around the waist and pulls me away. I struggle a bit, screaming, "Let me back inside!"

"I can't, babe, we have to go, we're running late already!"

"But my dress is on there!" I cry, still struggling. I have to get on that train. But Finnick's more than 5 years older than me, and strong.

"Then we'll get you another dress!" he says in exasperation. "The stylists have got a whole bunch of dresses!"

"Yes Paylor, do stop this!" hisses Effie disapprovingly. "We have to go before reporters start milling around!"

"But you don't understand!" I say desperately, "my dad gave it to me! He worked for weeks an-"

I can see that Finnick's getting tired, he's red in the face, but he doesn't stop trying to hold me back. "It doesn't matter anyway, Paylor!" he cries, "the doors are locked, and the trains leaving!"

"NO!" I cry. But he's right; the train has turned back on to full power, and is pulling out of the station, my dress with it. There's yet another part of home, gone. Does the Capitol want to take everything from me?

I immediately go limp, and let Finnick pull me along with the others. Once we've arrived outside the training centre, Garter doesn't hesitate to say, "You're a right weirdo Paylor, you know that? When you're on the train, you want to get off, and once you're on the train, you want to get back on again!" Because I've given up, Finnick's loosened his grip on me, so I immediately take the opportunity to shove him off me and storm into the building. I don't fail to hear Finnick's voice behind me:

"Girls."

"Ooh, these two are absolutely gorgeous!" exclaims one of my stylists in the silly Capitol accent to me, Garter, Finnick and Effie. She then looks at Garter and I. "and these new tributes don't look so bad themselves!" she and Effie burst in to peals of laughter, Finnick gives a chuckle, and I do my best to give a good natured titter.

After she's finished howling so much that her midnight blue wig has nearly fallen off her head, Effie says, "But you have to admit they look nice, don't you…..erm…"

"The names Cassandra darling, and yes, I must say we got a good batch this year!" she says, fixing her own hair before flipping mine this way and that. It's getting quite irritating; the way people are seeming to treat me like I'm a doll, a slab of meat, and not an actual person with feelings. But I guess if they're throwing us into an arena to fight to the death, they've pretty much forgotten that we're humans.

"They may be the only ones that might look like humans when we're done with them!" cries Cassandra, confirming my suspicions, and more hysterics follow that. Cassandras laugh is long and very high pitched, so my ears are ringing when she and Effie have calmed down.

"You're so funny! We really should talk over coffee!" says Effie, and they start babbling out dates and times and different types of coffee. Way to rub it in the people's faces who don't even have coffee.

"Well, I'm afraid that you have to go talk to the gamemakers now, Effie." Says Finnick. He then turns to Cassandra, wetting his lips slightly, and seductively purrs, "But you and I can." Cassandra starts giggling while the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and she's talking like crazy to him. I see the way she looks at him. Like it's love at first sight. Doesn't she know that that doesn't exist? And she's dopey not to realise that she's nothing special. There isn't a girl out there that he hasn't "had a coffee with."

After much giggling and flirting, Cassandra finally takes me to my prep room, which is a room not unlike the justice building back home, with white tiles on the wall, but has blue tiles on the floor and thin curtains hang everywhere I look. This is where the team are going to make me presentable enough to win sponsors. We come into the room to find two capitol people chatting vividly over coffee. There's a man who doesn't look much older than 20, with his eyebrows tattooed on and his lime green hair which is nearly as tall as the ceiling; and a woman with magenta hair who looks about 50 but you can see she's desperately trying to look younger. Her skin is a pale purple and her eyes seem to have gold contacts in them which spit out glitter every time she blinks. Cassandra's not much better, with tattoos that look like stickers all over her body and her teeth died red.

After a lot of squealing and introducing, (Which includes me making up constant lies about how they look fabulous, and that I love their shoes so much, which they seem to lap up.) Cassandra sits me down and helps me take my clothes off and dress into a thin gown. I feel very exposed and vulnerable, but tell myself to relax. These people see the tributes naked every year; I've got nothing to be embarrassed about. After a quick inspection, Cassandra says officially, "Pixie, the strips." The woman, who must be Pixie, nods, and opens some draws until she finds a packet of white strips. I'm clueless about what they are, until Cassandra says, "and Jaffa, get the wax." THE WAX? Jaffa and Pixie begin slopping wax onto the strips and before I can stop the, they slap one strip onto my left leg.

"Wait! What are you doing?" I shriek in protest.

Jaffa sighs. "We need to get rid of all that hair darling. You're pretty, but not perfect. We're here to make that happen."

"Yes, it'll all be worth it," says Pixie soothingly, except that it doesn't seem that soothing with that stupid accent of hers. "We promise!" but I don't want my leg hair gone. It's an extra layer of warmth, and my father wouldn't want the games to change me. I know he means personality wise, but having leg hair makes me feel more like….like me. But still, I do want to get sponsors, and usually district four has got the most based on looks. So I grit my teeth, run my hands through the hair one more time, and brace myself for the huge RIIIP that's about to come.

When it does come, it's a lot more painful than I expected. I do my best to stay quiet, but since I'm not very good with pain, it catches me off guard and before I can stop myself I cry, "OW!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" squeals Pixie, thinking that she's done something wrong.

"It's ok Pixie, we've just got a bit of a whiner here." Says Jaffa, shaking his head with a chuckle. I glare at him. The whole experience has rubbed me the wrong way already, and it's only been 10 minutes. But it's especially annoying that they keep on calling me pet names, like sugar and sweetie. It's something my mother would do. But remembering father's advice I put on a small smile, but with puppy dog eyes and say self pityingly, "I know, I'm so silly! I'm just sad because I feel so ugly." until they're all won over and are cooing over me. I hate the lot of them, but I want them to be on my side. Despicable, I know.

"Look, hunny, we've got to do this so it'll be easier for you in the arena!" says Cassandra. "I know it's painful, but we have to. Do you want me to hold your hand?" I have to check to see if she's joking, but as I turn to her face I see that she's not mocking me or being patronising, she's generally trying to be nice, but I don't want to be clasping hands with someone who's prettying me up for slaughter. She holds my hand anyway, her long painted nails digging in to my knuckles, but every time that I'm about to try and let go another hunk of hair is ripped of my body so it's all I can do to grip her hand and try not to let a sound escape my lips. With every wince they're sympathetic, but it doesn't stop them ripping more off, until every piece of hair is off my body apart from the thin arched lines which are now my eyebrows and the hair on top of my head.

They let me soak myself in a cool feeling cream until the stinging stops, and then fix my nails and all my imperfections. They don't seem to be even paying attention to me as they whittle away on my body. They're too busy gossiping about this or that, the colour dress they're wearing to a certain someone's party, the person who served bad shrimp last night for dinner, and most importantly, who they think will win this year's games. They mention Garter a lot, and that boy from nine, but never is the person they're making over mentioned. This makes me even more worried.

It isn't until they reach my hair though, when they finally shut up.

"Hmm, what should we do with it?" I hear Jaffa say, as he picks through a few strands.

"Well, Havens said to dye it an individual colour, but I think it's great the way it is." Mumbles Pixie.

"Yes, I think he'll like it," says Cassandra. "Although Tigris would have wanted it full blown orange if she was still here." A few chuckles follow her words. They sound mean and mocking.

"Tigris?" I say, interrupting them. "Who's Tigris?"

"Oh, she was the stylist last year, darling." Explains Cassandra. "Not anymore though." They all give a small giggle.

I rack my brains, and suddenly an image pops into my head. Yes, I remember her now. She was still quite young, with whiskers and stripes. She didn't look ill or anything. "So what happened to her?" I ask, voicing my thoughts.

My prep team exchange glances. "Long story, sugar," says Pixie, "anyway enough chit chat. Let's just tame this mane and see what Haven thinks." They do just that, slopping gloop all over my hair, tugging at it with a hair brush, snipping off a strand here, a strand there, until it finally falls into a smooth straight auburn waterfall down my back.

"There we go, all done." Says Pixie, smiling in triumph. They each give me a kiss on the cheek, (Jaffa seems to hiss at me when he does so.) and they all bumble out of the room, while I sit there, waiting for my stylist. I'm sat waiting for quite a while, but eventually he comes in. and what I see makes me gasp.

Great. The odds are really not in my favour today.

Not that they've ever have been.

Sorry I've taken so long with this! Ok, I know that not much happens in this chater, but the whole thing with Jed is gonna heat up very soon! So, the next chapter will be here in a week or two, please stay tuned! Oh, and anyone who reviews this story or adds it into their favourites will get a shout out in my next chapter! Anyway, I love you guys! Thanks for so many hits so far! :D

Love Lucy