"If you don't get up yourself, I'll have to yank you right out of the bed," calls Twig. Sounds like he's inside my room. When I start to imagine him yanking me out of my bed, I make a move to dismount myself, soberly sliding off of the sheets.

"It's time to go get dressed up, Circe! I don't know what you're so worried about! It's going to be so very fun for you!"

I guess Mim's in here, too. I turn around slowly, and, sure enough, the two of them are standing in the entryway, Twig inside the room and Mim sticking her head through the doorway.

"…Yeah…" I shuffle over to the door, and the two make room for me as Mim leads the way off of the train.

Want to know something that's certainly not "so very fun"? Getting every square inch of skin but your scalp waxed. And, of course, having to just sit there and pray the only thing that's coming off is hair, even though it really doesn't feel like it. And having to go through the whole ordeal naked and surrounded by tattooed weirdoes. That's not "so very fun".

The tattooed weirdoes—assistants of the main stylist whose names are Twilly and Tilly—now rub me down with a burning pink lotion whose kick eventually fades. Isn't it ironic that both of the purple-skinned, airheaded sisters' names rhyme with "silly"? I think it's quite amusing, even as I sit here shaking and a bit upset about being seen without any clothes on.

"I think you're finally ready!" purrs Twilly.

"Yes, I think Tora will be able to stand seeing you now!" The two burst out laughing for some reason, and as they go off to fetch Tora, I slip on the thin, red robe I've only been allowed to wear for a few minutes of this whole hour-or-so-long ordeal.

The door opens, and a woman who must be Tora steps into the room. She's very tall, and though not chubby, she's not skinny, either. Her long hair is an odd combination of red and purple stripes, and her skin is a ghostly white. She has some makeup to accent her cheekbones and eyes, but otherwise, isn't too made up. She walks up to me silently and motions at my robe. I try not to show my objection in my face as I slip it back off, disgruntled.

After circling me slowly, with the occasional silent request for me to move my arms or head, Tora motions at the puddle of a robe in the floor, and I put it back on gratefully. She walks me over to a chair surrounded by mirrors and shelves, and I seat myself. Eerily silent as ever, she puts a hand on my hair and redoes my part repeatedly until she's satisfied with it. She walks away, toward a door, and opens it, nodding at me to follow.

We're now in a small room only big enough for the long table and several couches inside it. Tora pushes a button on the table, and a tray of food comes up, plates and all. She sets up her own plate and begins to eat, looking up at me to ensure I'm getting something in my stomach as well.

I've gotten hungry by now—after all, I didn't eat much of my breakfast, for reasons I'd rather not think about right now—so I put together a meal of small, flaky, heart-shaped rolls with a slab of chicken in some sort of lavender sauce.

"Do you talk?" I find myself asking, as quietly as I'd thought it, but out loud.

Tora shakes her head softly.

I'm about to ask her why, but I stop myself. She wouldn't be able to answer me. Duh.

But I can't help but wonder. Does she have some sort of medical problem? Or is it some sort of odd ritual? It must be hers alone, with Twilly and Tilly so chatty.

In any case, I'm off to get dressed up for the parade. I'm not sure exactly what her ideas were, since she's unable to tell me, but as my costume progresses, I realize she's more focused on the water than the fish. My dress is a lovely, sparkling shade of blue-green, with ribbons and pleats of different shades of both blue and green. The neck is a sharply-angled V-neck, and the sleeves are only loose, silky fabric that fall off my arms midway to my elbow. The skirt of the dress is very uneven, some parts steering as sharply up as the V-neck steers down, but most sections are long enough to cover up my feet that remain bare. Tora walks out of the area for a moment in which I admire the costume in the mirrored part of the room. Despite these conditions, I still enjoy wearing such nice things.

Tora walks back in now, and she carefully slips the necklace I had been missing so sorely back over my head. I can't help but slip my hands back over its familiar contours as Tora flits about, checking every dimension of my dress to make sure it's unquestionably perfect.

She puts layers of makeup on me now, nothing as bizarre as most of the faces I've seen in the Capitol, but actually just enough to make me look pretty and to make my naturally green eyes seem blue.

I must be finished now, because Twilly and Tilly have arrived to worship Tora's work. And Twig has arrived as well. He has no top on whatsoever, probably to showcase his obvious advantage in the arena, but he has pants on that seem to be made of glittering fish scales as well as shoes that have been painted to look like the water's surface. He grins at me, leaving me a bit confused as we're both whisked off to the bottom level of the Remake Center, where our chariot, led by dappled white-and-gray horses, is already waiting for us. We both step up on it, and Tora, as well as a short, white-and-orange-haired man who must have been Twig's stylist, arrange our positions and costumes until they're completely satisfied.

I jump at the opening music when it starts to blare, forcing Tora to rearrange my skirt, as the huge doors to the street open.

The District 1 tributes, dressed in skimpy, shimmering costumes and glitter powder, are led off toward the circle first, and it's only a few more seconds before the float containing Twig and me takes off after them.

We're a few feet into the open air before I realize how huge this crowd really is. They're everywhere, screaming names and encouragement and just screaming. I give a start when a rose lands right at my toes, but I reach down to pick it up, and, for lack of any real ideas, smile and faintly wave back in the direction of whoever threw it.

Soon enough, though, the flowers start to pile up, and I'm waving around the whole crowd, though still not as much as Twig, who I'm sure is about to just up and break-dance for everyone out here in the Capitol. It's so odd how I'm smiling at these people, treating them like friends, when all they want for me is an entertaining death.

But in the off-chance Twig is eliminated before me—yeah, that's realistic—these people will be my source of… income, I guess is the word. They'd be my only hope, considering the only things in the arena I could get my hands on are plants—that would probably be poisonous, and I'd never know—and probably some animals—which I'm not sure I'd be able to kill. All of the decent weaponry would be inside the Cornucopia, and I wouldn't survive for a split second in that massacre. And even if I did get a weapon, I'm sure it would just be a waste in my incompetent hands; the only things I've ever cut had already been dead and frozen before I ever to them.

So I smile for the Capitol, the only people who could possibly save me from the death they themselves have planned for me.

Now the float pulls into the City Circle and stops, but I have to keep smiling with my aching cheeks and waving with my weary arm because some of the richest Capitol-goers stock the buildings we have just arrived by. It's a minute or two before the tributes from District 12 have pulled up, and then the music gives a final flourish and dies.

Now President Wimble, a short, thin, blonde, pale-skinned man, gives us the usual speech from up in his balcony, which is right above District 12's float. I find myself tuning out; I've heard this ramble on television every year, and it never changes. So instead of listening to the president, I focus on one of the gigantic screens cycling through images of the tributes. It's just now showing District 3's tributes, who honest-to-goodness look like they've been transformed into cyborgs, and then it cuts to Twig and me.

I'm really quite stunned at how my entire costume played out so wonderfully. The dress itself is magical enough, sending a shimmering wave of artificial sunlight through its length every time I move, but its collar brings attention to my magnificent necklace—which, I suppose, must by now be considered by district token—which blends in perfectly as the centerpiece of the only lightly-patterned fabric. There are also glittering, blue strands spun into my hair that I never noticed; Tora must have put them in when she was organizing my part.

It all makes me look quite attractive.

I wonder if Iah is watching. Well, of course he's watching, dimwit, I nag, everyone is. But what is he thinking? Does he care at all how beautiful I look here, today, or does he even care what I look like? Is he still trying to decide if he loves me? Maybe he's trying to ignore me, trying to start letting go, so he won't be as depressed when I'm killed in the arena.

I don't feel like he's the kind to do that.

But am I? My death will separate us both ways, so I suppose I should start trying to forget him. Try to wind down whatever feeble love for each other we had, so I'm not hysterical when I know I'm dying—if I'm unfortunate enough to have a deathbed.

I exhale and look back at the glowing screen, which stands out in the approaching dusk, for my image.

But now the camera has shot off to the next district, and I'm left to simply wait. Wait until the president finishes and the anthem plays before the horses lead us in a final loop around the City Circle and into the Training Center.

The doors slam shut at the very end of the anthem, and I finally release my unnaturally-long-held smile from my face for a more neutral, less painful expression.

Twilly and Tilly are going crazy over how well the costume worked, and how wonderful I looked with that shy, cute, little smile, and back to how utterly amazing Tora's work always is.

We're done with all of the parading now, so I'm dressed back in my normal clothes. Or, at least, what I was wearing immediately before having to be stripped down naked.

The only thing that stays on me is my little necklace, my little reminder of home.

The home, I think forlornly as I'm herded to the tributes' tower, that I'll never see again.