Chase the Light

Two days had past since the reaping and there were still traces of sand and dirt on her white dress—the last pieces of District 5 she would ever see. She watched as a few grains fell to the plush carpet just before the train glided into a tunnel and the whole compartment darkened. Meera felt her ears pop. They were going up in elevation.

"We'll be there any minute now," Linares said, "When we get in, stay close to the windows. The Capitol likes to welcome all the Tributes. The crowd should be big."

Her hands gripped the armrests uneasily. The thought of a crowd made her stomach squirm.

Glade was standing next to the windows. Even in the darkness her copper skin looked like it was glowing. Her eyes twitched to Meera for a long second. Meera returned the stare coldly. The challenge seemed to amuse the old Victor and a cat-like smile stretched to her eyes.

"How big is it?" Faron meekly whispered. His cow eyes shifted to the windows just as they shot out of a tunnel and into the mountains. She had never seen mountains so big before, snowcapped and green, they stretched high into the clouds.

Linares guffawed pretentiously. Apparently he didn't think the question deserved a real response.

"Bigger than you can imagine," was Glade's silken reply.

"I heard they have towers of steel, marble and glass…"

"They're called skyscrapers."

Meera dropped her eyes. In District 5 the tallest buildings were the power stations—chunks of thick metal and wood that were planted in the earth like rocks—nothing like the Capitol.

Darkness submerged the train once more. Her deep blue eyes lifted in terror. She could feel her palms sweating, they stuck to her dress as she adjusted them in her lap.

"Here it comes," Linares whispered. Meera wondered how he could have known that. They were still in the tunnel and she couldn't see a thing. The anticipation mounted terribly. Faron stood up and jumped to the windows, but she was frozen.

Soon light was slicing through the train. She could vaguely feel the wheels turning under her feet. Her the echoes of tracks. When darkness finally lifted her serrated breaths trembled.

Glade crept back into the curtain, her arms crossed. Linares smiled proudly.

Only Faron and Meera's jaws dropped.

It was blinding, foreign, and just as Faron described...towers of glass, marble and steel. The sun glimmered off jagged buildings and a nearby lake. Meera found her feet but didn't dare a step forward. She watched as Faron eagerly pressed himself against the window. The sight was unsettling. Didn't he remember why they were here? There was no reason to feel eager, there was nothing waiting for them in the Capitol but death—and still Meera too had a hard time hiding the awe. From afar it looked beautiful, more beautiful than she could have imagined. A city of steel mountains surrounded by mounds of rock and snow. Of course they control all of Panem. With a city like that who would dare question them.

As the train moved closer a noise ruptured the silence.

"What's that?" she fearfully asked, her feet shuffled back. She wished the darkness of the tunnels was still hiding her terror, "That noise…"

They were moving like a bullet. Soon Faron had to crane his neck to see the buildings and even then he couldn't. Closer and closer they travel, further into this strange city, and as they did the noise loudened.

"What is it?" she furrowed her brow.

Glade's golden eyes moved to Meera's face, "It's the crowd waiting. They're cheering for your arrival."

Meera gulped. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?! Because you're two of their Tributes, of course!" Linares scoffed. Meera could have sworn that his silver-blue skin turned scarlet out of disgust.

"There's so many of them," Faron absently murmured. He didn't wave or smile, only gazed out. Glade too peeked past the curtains, perhaps she was remembering her first time in the Capitol.

"Go on, now," Linares grabbed Meera's shoulders. Her feet tried to scramble backward but he was pushing too hard. She started moving before she could stop it. "Don't be shy. Smile and wave. They'll love you if you do."

"I won't," she whispered it more for herself than anyone else.

"Oh don't be shy."

His hands were still on her when she got to the windows. Her lips shook. There were more people waiting on the sides of the street than in the whole of District 5. Some waved, others cheered. There were little boys with play swords and aging women with strangely warped faces. All of them were different and yet to Meera they each had the same hungry expression. Linares gave her a shake, urging her to do something besides gape, but she could barely lift her arm in a wave let alone her lips in a smile.

"She's overwhelmed, let her go," Glade said.

"They're only people, just like you and me. No reason to be afraid." He hissed the words in Meera's ear. It made her cringe. "Don't be afraid."

But they weren't like her, none of them were. She would never fall in line with a crowd of people and cheer for death. She would never watch children battle for fun and laugh with glee as someone was crowned Victor of nothing. This wasn't her world, she had left that behind the moment they dragged her on the train.

Silently she shook her head. Beside her Faron was waving, it repulsed her how willing he was to smile for them. Only a little boy and he was better at charming the crowd than her.

"That's enough," Glade shoved Linares away and glared, "Do you want her drained before the opening ceremonies? She's barely been in the Capitol for two seconds."

Meera gasped as Glade put her arm around her shoulders and started walking through the compartment, "Come on, we'll be stopping soon. Faron, come along!"

For the first time Meera was thankful for Glade. Maybe she had misjudged her mentor. The way she held her was nurturing. Even her stern looks felt protective. When she looked back Linares was mumbling something under his breath.

"He's angry," Meera whispered.

Glade tightened her jaw, "Let him be. He's a fool."

"There were so many people."
"Yes. I know."

The door shut behind them. Faron was a few steps away, but he didn't say a word.

"You can be scared but don't let them see it. You hear me? Never show how afraid you are. You must wave and smile."

"I can't."

"If they hate you—"

"But I'm not fighting them."

"No," Glade agreed, "You aren't."

Train doors slid open sending a breeze of cool mountain air surging past Meera's body. Her deep auburn hair wildly blew around her face as the impact of the applause collapsed into her. She felt Glade drop her arm, saw Faron following a line of peacekeepers that were motioning towards a car. Linares was there too, coaxing all of them forward. The cheers lasted all throughout their car ride. Meera found herself leaning close to the windows. Her eyes gaze up in astonishment at advertisements and marble constructs. They were showing recaps of the reapings, soon there would be much more to film than reapings and arrivals—soon the games would begin. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

"We're one of the last to arrive in the Capitol," Linares was holding a panel. His fingers slide across it as he read the incoming reports, "Looks like there's only District 12 still in transit."

"The Opening Ceremonies?" Glade quickly inquired.

"Tonight. I've been in contact with the stylist team. They're meeting us in the Remake Center."

"Remake Center?" Meera's eyes were wide in shock.

"You didn't actually think you'd enter the ceremonies dressed like that did you?"

Her eyes dropped to her dress, it was torn near the hem and dirty. The Opening Ceremonies were a time for the Tributes to wear something that introduced their District's main economy. For District 5 it was electricity. Most Tributes were close to naked, only the Career Districts were the ones with the intricate costumes. Meera raked her teeth across her lower lip as she tried to recall last years Opening Ceremonies—when she was watching them on the screens in the common areas of 5 it felt unreal, in a few hours she would discover just how real it was.

Arriving in the Remake Center was like entering another world. White glossy walls mirrored white sterile floors. Seats that resembled torture devices were positioned near one side of the room while windows covered the other side. The view from the room was the most surprising part of it all. Meera hadn't realized how high they were till she stared out and saw the ant-sized people swarming around in celebration. Her eyes took in the view. She wondered how many past Tributes stood where she was and thought of jumping.

Somewhere between the car and the room Glade and Faron had disappeared. Now Meera was alone with Linares. His cold eyes checked the time with boredom. An hour must have past before the door opened.

She spun around and drew back. Three people entered, each odder than the next.

"Finally," Linares whispered, "We've been waiting. Meera, come here…"

She allowed her representative to grab her wrist and pull her forward for inspections and introductions.

"This will be your team. Your makeup artist Benedict. Genero your hairstylist. And finally Alida, your wardrobe designer."

Meera's lips parted as she studied each of them.

Benedict was a stout man with a plump stomach and unnaturally large eyes. Red tattoos covered half his face, Meera silently questioned if they also covered half his body. Genero was Benedict's opposite in almost ever respect. He was skeleton thin with obsidian chips for eyes and a strange yellow hue covered his eyelids and lips.

"She's prettier than I expected," Benedict observed, "A little pale for my taste."

Then Alida stepped forward. She was one of the most beautiful women Meera had ever seen, though a coldness shined from her eyes. Her hair was long and dark, her outfit stiff and black. Violet makeup covered her eyelashes. Her heels echoed through the room as she moved closer.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Meera Eastwood."

When she stretched out her hand Meera stepped back instinctively. Back in District 5 she had been confident but here in the Capitol she felt lost. Linares grunted in disapproval.

"You don't want to shake my hand?"

"No."

Benedict and Genero laughed in harmony. "She's a prickly one," Genero mused.

Alida dropped her hand and smiled glancing to Linares, "We can take it from here, you should tend to the other one. I heard from Kye that wild beast of a mentor is putting up a fuss."

Glade.

Meera rubbed her lips together. She could hear the disregard in Alida's voice. She hated dealing with a District like 5.

"She's been making a fuss since we left the District…" Linares mumbled, quickly skirted the windows before he took his leave.

Now completely alone she felt her fingers tremble. All eyes studied her. She hunched her head as Alida circled her in reserve. From time to time she would grab the fabric of Meera's white dress and laugh to herself.

"They don't have much when it comes to fabric in District 5 I see."

"Our resource is electricity."

"Yes. Well, it's a pity you didn't wear light bulbs the first time we met, I would have been far more impressed."

Meera's face darkened with anger. Unlike the Capitol District 5 didn't have the luxury of nice clothing, even food was a rarity. The designer noticed the expression on her face and narrowed her eyes.

"Have I insulted you?"

Meera tilted her head up, the conversation was enough to make her blood boil. "If you want me to apologize for being poor, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

"You're a strange girl, aren't you? You seem shy and docile, but you aren't. The other Tributes will be shocked when it comes to the arena."

"Now, now, Alida…she's just a girl. She doesn't know how lucky she is," Genero cut in.

Meera shot him a glare, her eyes filled with fire. Lucky. Is that what these Capitolites thought she was?

"Alida, we only have a few short hours for preparations," out of the three Benedict seemed the most nervous. His huge eyes darted from face to face. Sweat formed on his brow.

"Right," she said it without looking away from Meera, "Take off your dress. Benedict, draw a bath. I'll see to the outfit, when I come back make sure she's ready for the ceremonies. We're on a schedule."

Water rushed from a golden faucet into a large marble bath. Meera stepped forward, gently pulling the straps of her dress off her shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. She wasn't ashamed of being naked. All her life she had showered in front of other people, she never had the luxury of her own bath. Grains of sand grated between her toes as she slipped off her sandals and felt the cold marble below. Genero hummed a tune as he undid her hair.

The water was hot. Steam and aromas rose from the bath. Dirt swirled away from her body and hair. She had to gasp for breaths a few time as the hairstylist dunked her under and rubbed strange lotions into her hair and skin. Some stung, others soothed. She had never been so thoroughly cleaned in all her life.

"What a brilliant color, have you ever seen such beautiful hair, Benedict?"

Benedict rubbed his plump stomach and sorted through equipment. "Beautiful, Genero," he agreed.

"Hair like this is enough to shock the Capitol into love."

Her eyes lifted to Genero's face. He looked so happy. She felt his hands squeeze the water out of her strands. It was hard to imagine how anyone could be so happy at a time like this. The shock of being reaped and transported to the Capitol was starting to wear off. Modest confidence was coming back, but it was hard to keep the fear at bay. She knew she didn't stand a chance in the arena, but she also knew she needed to fight. From here on out she would fight, but she wouldn't do it by romancing the crowd. In fact the longer she stared at Genero's smile the more she understood how much she didn't want to please the Capitol crowds. Let them hate me, she thought, I won't die a groveling actress. Glade had told her to smile, told her she needed to, but that wasn't true. Smiles wouldn't save her from the arena. She would save herself.

Soon after the bath, Genero proceeded to dry her off and escort her to one of the chairs. Benedict was holding a jar of something thick and steaming.

"What's that?" she asked as he coated it on her legs.

"This may sting a bit."

Ri-i-i-p!

Her eyes widened. Her teeth grated together.

After they were done with her legs they moved onto her eyebrows. By then she had grown used to the stinging, but it was still shocking every time Benedict pulled and smiled with approval. Later, when they had waxed her entire body into silky smoothness, she dropped her hands to her legs feeling the softness under her fingertips. It felt strange.

"For the next hour don't move," Benedict commanded, propping the seat up so her back was stiffly straight.

"What are you going to—"

"Ah, ah," he pressed his finger against her lips and arched his eyebrows, "No speaking. We'll work faster then."

Normally she would have finished her sentence out of spite but the promise of this being over sooner rather than later was enough to shut her up. She watched their hands work. Genero was pulling on her hair, drying it with a device, while Benedict began mixing palettes and colors together.

She winced as strands of hair were pulled back and combed through and fluttered her eyes every time Benedict dabbed and coated her eyelids with various colors.

Evening waited beyond the windows. The moon was climbing into the sky. Time was moving faster and faster.

"Alida will be pleased I think."

Meera flicked her eyes around. The way they were gazing at her was unnerving. They looked engrossed in the work they had done. Benedict dabbed something near the corner of her eyes as a finishing touch.

"There, that does it…Genero, see if she's in the hallway. Perhaps she didn't want to interrupt our work."

"Of course, Benedict."

Meera watched him disappear.

"You look nervous."

"Do I?" she whispered, noticing his large eyes boring into her.

"Yes. You do."

The door opened back up, Genero was joined by Alida. Meera had to hold back a scornful look as the designer approached.

"You can stand," she said it like an order.

Meera clutched her robe as she stepped onto the floor and waited.

"Yes…" she whispered, "That's just what we planned. Well, now…are you ready to see your outfit, Meera?"

"Is it made of light bulbs?" She quipped without a hint of amusement.

A sly smile appeared on Alida's face, "Not exactly."

An hour later, Meera Eastwood was standing in the strangest thing she had ever worn in her life. A periwinkle blue dress with a low neckline and tight bodice grasped her torso and breasts...but that wasn't the strange part. Flowing in wisps of glowing light was the skirt of the dress—it was sheer and light, sinuous as the wind. The blue and orange lights expelled glowing warmth all around her. Genero had pulled her auburn hair into a high ponytail and Benedict had painted her eyes with neon colors that seemed to have a phosphorescence of its own. Violet, blue and orange neon made her deep blue eyes stand out, and her lips were dabbed with a pale nude color that somehow made her cheekbones look more prominent.

"She's glowing!" Genero joked, nudging Benedict who let out a high-pitched laugh.

"Splendid creation, Alida, splendid."

"Just a little trick to stir the crowd," she smiled in appreciation, "It absorbs the lights around and reflects it back, making it look like liquid electricity."

Meera blinked her eyes slowly. Her reflection looked like someone else's. Her fingers traced the glowing fabric of the dress and delicate work of the makeup. The swirls of ephemeral light didn't blot out her face or body—in fact they somehow highlighted it.

"Alright, it's time. Meera, are you ready?"

She turned to the side in silence. No, she thought, I'll never be ready. But she couldn't say those words aloud. She knew she couldn't.

The bottom levels of the Remake Center were swarming with people. Meera was escorted to a stable labeled 5. Over the edges of her station she could see the first glimpses of other Tributes. The sight ate at her nerves. Chariots were lining up for each District, the two white horses pulling 5's stirred as Meera was loaded onto theirs. Immediately Alida started to adjust the draping of Meera's dress.

Faron appeared just as the countdown to the opening ceremonies began. He was dressed in the same color as Meera, a suit of light blue…small wisps of the suit glowed, but it was his cape that was the real eye-catcher. He gave Meera an anxious look as he stepped up. He was so tiny and underfed, even in the beauty of his costume he looked frail.

Darkness fell. Only 30 seconds before the doors opened.

"Are you scared?" He suddenly whispered. Meera wondered if he was going to throw up.

She straightened her back and stared ahead, determined and suddenly cold, "No. Not of this. Not anymore."

"I'm terrified."

She felt pity, but something held her back from reassuring him. She couldn't bring herself to. In a few days they would be thrown into the arena where they would be all alone. If she broke now, if she allowed herself to care for him just a little, then it would only make it harder.

"They're only people," she said the words Linares had used on her. Faron sensed her coldness and fell silent. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that his hands were shaking.

It could have been minutes or seconds before the music began but when it did the horses tensed with knowing. Meera pressed her lips together gently. Slowly the doors opened. The ceremony was starting.

First District 1 pulled forward. The sight of them made her eyes widen. District 2 was even worse. Now she understood why they were called the Career Districts. Both Tributes were healthy and strong. The Capitol crowds broke apart in wonder as they exited into the City Circle. Down the side of the way images of the Tributes were moving along screens. It took Meera a moment to remember herself when it was 5's turn.

Her eyes focused on the chariot ahead as they began moving. Her dress blew in the wind behind the rolling wheels—swimming light and neon in the growing darkness. Suddenly the crowd began hooting and screaming. She refused a smile. Her face remained stoic and hard, but Faron quickly grinned, his hand raised in a stale wave. How strange they must have seemed, she thought, they didn't look like a team at all…but then again they weren't one.

"Meera!" Someone in the crowd called.

She twitched her eyes to the mass of people. They were calling her name. Many of them were staring at their glowing costumes and smiling in wonder, others were clapping and pointing to other Tributes. Her breathing was uneven as her eyes lifted to the nearest screen. She could see herself in that screen, it looked like a river of light was streaming behind their chariot—it looked beautiful.

"Meera!" she heard once more, but then other names echoed down to the chariots. Names she had never heard.

"Rillian!"

"Berris!"

"Dawn!"

Names of other tributes. Names of people that she would come face to face with in a few days—she steadied her nerves and looked ahead once more.

Soon all twelve chariots were out and rolling in a line.

It wasn't long before they had finished the ceremonial procession. The President's mansion was coming into view, a large marble house decorated in columns and steps. All chariots were lining up in a row. Meera carefully peered from left to right as they jolted to a stop.

Slowly, her eyes lifted above the steps to a balcony. President Tiberius Vetranio Hart was an aging man, but he still had the look of youth in his eyes. His flaxen hair was starting to turn grey, and deep cruel wrinkles creased his brow and lips. He waved the crowd into silence as he stepped out onto his balcony and began his speech.

Down the line Meera caught sight of one of the Careers' chariots. She could feel the blood coursing through her veins to her cheeks. The female Tribute from District 2 was peering at her threateningly. The girl's narrow face was full of amusement and irony that Meera couldn't understand. Even after she looked away Meera knew that the girl was staring. No doubt their costumes were shocking enough to mark District 5 as targets.

Don't let them see how afraid you are, she told herself, don't.

She forced her eyes to stay on the balcony, forced herself to stay calm and steady.

When the anthem finally started up again the chariots moved. The final circle was made before each chariot disappeared into the Training Center and away from the cameras. Meera gave a solemn glance to the crowd just before the doors swallowed them, they were still cheering long after the 12th chariot had vanished.