AN – Thank you for your reviews! I'm nervous now. I'm scared that I won't get the same response. :P I hope you like!
CHAPTER TWO
APOV
Rip! Rip! Rip! Rip!
"Ow!" I finally yell, my hand rushing to sooth my aching leg. My stylist, Siva, smiles at me softly from the other end of the room, as if to say not long left. I frown and lay back in the bed, letting the stylists tear at my skin again.
Rip! Rip! Rip! Rip!
One of the stylists places a big wad of waxing papers in the bin next to Siva. They've finished, thankfully, but my body is aching all over and bright red from the beauty torture. That can't look attractive, right? And that's what they're here to do.
To make me beautiful.
They turn to my eyebrows, and I wince at every moment as they pluck away at my stray hairs that have gathered over the years. Then, another, smaller wax strip is placed in the middle of them both. Rip!
It takes another two hours to get me ready, minus my outfit. I'm smooth all over – they even scrubbed and then moisturised my skin – and my face is decorated with wave inspired make-up. My cheeks are a very light coral, and my lips are bright blue, while my eyes have a smoky green effect and fake-eyelashes with gems at the start of them on my eyelids.
I don't get to see myself yet, though, not until I'm in my outfit, designed and handmade by Siva. My thoughts turn to Cal and how he's doing, and I wonder if he's getting any special treatment because he's younger than me. Probably, since he's not only younger, but cuter and smaller and people just generally seem to like him.
My outfit is a dramatic, blue dress flowing into white crystals at the bottom resembling waves. There are green bits of ribbon tied in my hair in loose curls, and it's pulled over to the side. My hair is high at the top, twisted around to the back of my head with ribbon in the twists, too.
I look amazing.
I gaze at myself in the mirror as I have been doing for the last ten minutes. This isn't me, I tell myself. It can't be. It's a huge transformation, but it's too much. It's too beautiful that it surely can't be me. I'm never beautiful. I'm plain. Even the people back home in Four who have had five kids and have sand stained skin are more beautiful than me.
"Annie we need to–" Mags opens the door, but stops in the doorway. "Oh, my!" she exclaims, her hands rushing towards her heart. She wore a simple blue dress that came past her knees and a pair of sandals. Because of her age, it's okay for her not to wear heels like the rest of us.
"Thank you, I guess," I reply. "You look nice, too, Mags."
"Well," she laughs, coming over to me and holding me at arm's length. She looks me up and down for a few minutes. "Nothing compared to you. Honestly. Finnick will love this."
I froze. "What?"
"Oh, nothing!" she pulls away from me, dismissing what she said quickly. I stare after her, but decide not to play on what she said. She's old, batty, and maybe insane, so she can't know what she's saying. "Come on."
"Where's Cal?" I ask curiously, and she points towards the door down the corridor. I step out of the room, following Mags towards Cal's stylist, Deyni, and her team's room. When I see him, waiting for me outside the room, I pause for a long minute before breaking out into a huge grin that hurts my heavily made-up face. It's worth it, though, just to see him like that.
"You look amazing, Cal," I tell him truthfully and hug him. It feels weird, but oddly nice to hold him close, even knowing that one of us – or maybe even both – are going to die soon. But I've missed this with my mother, not having her with me in the Capitol to hold me, so having Cal as a support means a lot.
He's shaking, I feel, so I pull back and rub his arms like I used to do to my little sister when she was cold. I pull a face thinking of her in this situation, and my heart aches to think about it. Hopefully she had somebody older to hold her close when she shook and to take care of her during the games.
Cal smiles at me. His teeth, I notice, have been whitened heavily and he looks like a Capitol boy officially when his bright green lips pull back against them. On his cheeks are small patterns of blue fish against blue, green and purple water and he's wearing a pair of brightly colored contacts. His messy, brunette hair is pulled slick back and raised, with bits of real seaweed attached, draping down some bits, falling towards his neck, and intertwining with others.
His outfit isn't completely different to mine regarding the colors, but otherwise, he looks nothing like me. He wears ripped shorts, with a pair of flat, plain white shoes. His legs are covered in sand, as if he's been walking on a real beach. His arms are bare, with an also ripped tank, and with more sand stuck to them. Other than his nails being painted – sea color blue like mine – and his face, there's not much sea inspired on him.
He looks like he's been shipwrecked and just come home. But it works, and he looks wonderful. I have no doubt that the audience will love him when we get out there and introduce ourselves to the Capitol crowd.
"Very nice," I hear somebody clap their hands and I jump. Cal and I both turn, but instead of smiling like Cal, I glare at Finnick. Mags lets out a small laugh, like she knows something that we don't, but I don't have the guts to glare at her.
"Whoa," Finnick says, punching Cal on the arm playfully. "You look just like I did at your age," he smirks. "A real, utter mess."
"Finnick!" I yell, leaning forward to punch his arm. But he just laughs along with Cal, who's holding his stomach, cackling.
"Don't worry," Cal says in between laughs. "I'm meant to look this way. The audience, I hope, are going to feel sorry for me. That's what Deyni said. It's worked before."
I feel myself blushing as Finnick flashes me an I told you so glance, his annoyingly perfect smile growing.
"Well," Mags says, taking a hold of Cal's wrist softly. "Let's go bring you to your chariot. You two, hurry up, and please, for the love of all things good, stop bickering."
Mags leaves with Cal following. He waves at Finnick who grins at him. "They're going to love you," he tells Cal just as the door closes behind him and Mags. And then, Finnick turns back to me, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
He's wearing a simple suit. A black one, with a black tie and a white shirt. But, just as you'd expect with him, he looks amazing. Too amazing and too perfectly beautiful, in fact, to be true. Nobody would be able to tell that he's a Capitol boy.
"Well," he says. "You look–"
"Please don't insult me," I groan. Finnick laughs, but it's not bitter or nasty. It's an honest, breath-taking chuckle that makes me smile. "You look good, Finnick," I say. "Really."
"Thank you, Cresta, but I know," he says. I roll my eyes. Oh, here we go. "You look better than that, though. Better than me and Cal combined. You look beautiful."
My stomach flips and I'm pretty sure I'm going to throw up. That's the first time I've ever heard him say anything good to anybody, and it was to me, not a string of ridiculously bright Capitol citizens who only have good things to say about him.
"Sorry," Finnick says. "I didn't mean to fluster you."
And then, he winks, turning around to leave. Before I can even mutter another word, he's gone. "Pig," I grit my teeth together and get myself ready to follow.
When we're out on the chariot, it's a lot wobblier than I expected. It could break any minute. Well, that would be funny, at least, to the Capitol, and maybe they'd sponsor us because of that and we'd be made to bring in the laughs. We could say it was on purpose. Cal takes my hand and squeezes it, but let's go immediately. "This isn't a game," he says, his eyes facing forward. "Okay? Make them like you. Don't worry about me, yeah?"
I nod. "Okay," I say, confused that he feels the need to tell me this. That was my plan anyway. "You too."
"I know," he laughs. "I'll be fine."
"Well, alright," I say, a little laugh escaping my throat. As the chariot starts and we're led into the opening ceremony, I shoot a glance over to Finnick. To my dismay, though it's not surprising, he's flirting, as usual, with one of the Capitol ladies. She's leaning over the barriers while he talks to her, and she's giggling at any moment possible. Rolling my eyes, I focus my attention on other people in the crowd and not Finnick and his stupid smirk.
"Beautiful!" somebody yells. I feel a rose land on my foot and I bend down to pick it up. Standing up again, I blow a kiss to the sender, though I can't pick out who it was. There's hundreds of people who are tossing roses to the chariots, not just ours. The crowd pauses before going completely wild again, with more shouts of compliments I hadn't even dreamt of hearing. It's unusual, but it makes me smile.
I zone out for a few minutes, monotonously waving towards the adoring crowd. I sneak a peek at Cal, and he's doing the same, a gleaming grin on his face. I smile as I watch him, and turn my head to catch a few more roses, blowing kisses in all different directions.
I don't realise that the chariot has stopped. We're in another room now, and its dark compared to the candle lit ceremony. The cheers and shrieks of the crowd die out as I assume the last district are pulling out, too, and somebody, a peacemaker, helps me and Cal out of the chariot.
"You were great," Cal reaches up to hug me on his tiptoes and kisses my cheek once the peacemaker leaves. I smile down at him.
"You too," I say, just as the door bursts open. In comes Mags with Finnick behind her, both of them holding a few stray roses that I couldn't collect. My stomach flips for the second time today, and I get that throwing up feeling once more. "Whoa," I steady myself, preparing not to fall.
"Be careful," Finnick orders, "we can't have you bruised. You're my tribute, you can't get hurt before the games. Plus, we need pretty knees for the interview dress I have planned."
He winks at me and I scoff, taking the dozens of roses out of his hand. It doesn't take long for us to get to our floor, as we're only on the fourth, but the lift makes my stomach flip and turn and do cartwheels, worse than before. Groaning, I push through Mags, Cal and Finnick, getting out of the lift before I collapse.
I stumble into the room and make my way towards the dining area. Perhaps some food would make me feel better. Mags and Finnick follow me, while Cal says he wants to shower first and get the fish paintings and sand off him. I smile at that, at how disgusted he feels afterwards. He leaves, itching his arms and legs and moaning.
"Here," Finnick slides into his usual seat, passing me over my favorite plum jam. I don't want to take it from him, because it's him, but it's so good. I chew the inside of my lip, so much that I feel a little blood.
"No thanks," my stomach rumbles and he eyes me suspiciously, but he simply shrugs and pulls it back. My stomach makes another noise, and before I can resister the look on Mags or Finnick's faces, I'm running out of the room and towards my bathroom.
I heave into the toilet a few times, with nothing coming out, and then fall back against the wall. There's a light knock on my door. "Cresta?" I hear Finnick's voice and moan, ready to be sick – or, in my case, not be sick – again.
"Finnick," I manage to say. "I don't … I just want to be alone."
"Do you feel okay?" he asks, ignoring my request. I can almost imagine him smirking at how terrible I feel. I nod, then realise he can't see me. "Cresta?" he adds, growing a little more frustrated. Okay, so maybe he's not smirking, but why wouldn't he be?
"Go away," I moan, rolling over to place my head over the toilet again. I see a panel against the wall, with various buttons on it, signalling different things. I press one of them curiously and a large tray practically flies out of the tiles, containing lots of bottles and scrubs.
"I'll save you some lamb," Finnick mutters. I wait until I hear my bedroom door closing and I stand, stripping out of my opening outfit, hanging it over the sink neatly. I don't want to ruin Siva's flawless work and make it seem like I didn't appreciate it when I certainly did.
I turn on the shower which takes me a while with all the various, unmarked buttons on the wall. When it finally comes on, I pull some bottles from the holder that flew out of the wall a few minutes ago and study them. I find one that says hair wash and climb into the shower.
I found, annoyingly, that the shower has a limited time. It takes ten minutes, just when I'd started putting on the shampoo, and then a dryer comes on. It takes me a while, with the shampoo in my eyes, to open the shower door and make my way over to the sink. Ignoring my pact to keep the dress intact, I push it off and run my hair under the cool water.
"Whoa, sorry."
"Oh my!" I scream, falling onto the floor and scrambling to get my towel. Pulling it over me, I glare – and probably blush – at Finnick. He stares at me, his eyes wide.
"I'm sorry," he rushes, coughing uncomfortably. "I didn't … I didn't see anything, just in case you're worried," he mutters.
I pause to pull on a fresh pair of underwear – he turns away politely – and then pull on my pyjamas. As I stand up, I cough back. "That's okay," I say. "I didn't mean to fluster you."
And, without another word, I leave him alone, strutting confidently past him and towards the dining area. Cal, now dressed in his dark blue pyjamas, and Mags are in deep conversation about training tomorrow. Cal's limited himself ten minutes to each station, which sounds odd considering we have the whole day to train.
"Hey," Cal says coolly as I sit down. "Feel any better?" he asks. I nod, smiling at both Mags and Cal. Finnick appears a few minutes later, just as I dig into the stew he saved for me, and sits down quietly. I'm sure I'm blushing again.
"Finn?" Mags asks, raising an eyebrow at him. She dabs her mouth with the napkin in her hand. "Feeling okay? You're too quiet. I don't like it. It's not normal for you."
Finnick turns to me, his expression unreadable, and then smirks at Mags. "I'm fine," he leans back in his chair. "Great actually. I just can't wait for training tomorrow."
I know that I'm blushing already, but it seems that I've gone redder as Cal points out. I shoot him a warning glare, but he smiles at me, letting me know that he was joking. I smile back, feeling mean that I'd just glared at him.
Then, as we finish our meals in a strange but comfortable silence, Mags reaches towards her glass, filling it with some sort of bubbly. I don't object when she pours some in my glass, and neither does Finnick, while Cal sticks with fruit juice.
"To District Four," Mags says. I smile as we all raise are glasses and clink them together.
"To District Four," I repeat, clanging my glass together with Finnick's. Our eyes stick on each other for a few seconds before I raise my glass, bringing it towards my mouth and sipping it.
To District Four, I think proudly. The home of this year's victor.
AN – I don't have much to say here. Please review!
Also, I forgot, (it's been quite a long time since I read Catching Fire, that Mags had a stroke or something so she has speech problems. Let's just say that happened after Annie's games!