4
The next morning I am rudely awaken by Haymitch to discuss our schedule for the day. Effie, Kaien, and my parents were already in a conversation. It ends abruptly when I appear. "Told you I'd be able to do the trick," Haymitch calls. What can Haymitch do besides drink and sleep? I take a seat at the table and start on breakfast.
"It's time for another big, big, big day!" Effie cheers. "As soon as we arrive in the Capitol you will meet your new stylists. They will prep you for the Opening Ceremonies."
My father adds, "Even if you hate their ideas just go along with it. If your mother and I hadn't we wouldn't have made the same impression."
I snip, "No way am I getting blown up!" The more difficult I am, the less sponsorship I'll have. Chances are my mom will have to quit and Haymitch wouldn't take the time trying to grab people.
"You will follow what they say. End of discussion," my mother hisses.
I give her an empty stare. I object, "Who said I had to follow what you say? I don't remember agreeing to it." They can't miss me. They just can't.
"You will," she responds. "If you want to stay alive." I know that doesn't mean she'll desert me. It means I won't know what to do five seconds in. We just stare at each other. Of course we've had normal mother-daughter fights before, but overall we got along very well. I can talk to her and she listens. At least we were able to.
Kaien shouts, "Brr! Is it December already? Because that was a cold snap!" Haymitch bursts into laughter. My dad wants to, but suppresses it. My mother and I break away. How is he still so calm and easy going? I'm being torn apart trying to save his life.
Effie tries to get everyone back on track. "Well if your stylist is anything like Cinna, you'll be unforgettable." Leave it to Effie to make the center of someone's problem the main discussion. I want to be forgotten!
"Well, I want to be in more than just coal dust." Kaien agreeing with me makes it seem like a mutual idea. Not one stubborn girl and a cooperative boy.
My mom just sat there blankly. Was she thinking about Cinna, her lost friend? The Games? The war? Losing us? I've never felt like a meaner person before. Haymitch says, "After the legacy your parents left, and how anticipated you two are, your guys are in no position to slack off. May even do better." I'm getting blown up.
I entered the Capitol and felt like I had entered a fairytale. Everyone had strange skin and hair colors and pictures drawn all over them. It relates to a few fairytales also; an unjust kingdom ruled by those who inflict the pain rather than treat. People who are arrogant about their good deeds and believe they can undo the endless wrongs. Some notice this and want to speak out or end it, but don't in fear of their own lives and goods. That's the thing about fairytales they think a 'happy ever after' for one person can make everything okay.
The real happy ever afters make everything okay for everyone. A real happy ever after is not promising people justice and freedom, and then taking it back because you're bored and need entertainment. Also, no one lives happily ever after when their families are torn apart and have to watch their children die. Especially when it was outlawed a long time ago. Even more so when you're still rebuilding from a rebellion that has never officially been declared over.
We enter the training center and rush to an elevator that carries us eleven stories high. The twelve districts are separated onto different levels. Since this is the first time thirteen floors are necessary every district has been demoted a level. This puts district one at the bottom and the Capitol kids at the top. There is a bit of a home advantage there. District one's floor is really a storage room split into sections. I'm surprised we weren't the ones put there, the poorest, smallest district. Also the most defiant district.
My parents share one room, after them is Kaien, Effie in the next, then Haymitch, our stylists, our prep team, and then my own. The arrangement is made this way so the two tributes have as much space as possible before the Games begin. It's also a way to avoid any pre-deaths. In our situation, I doubt that'll happen. All I want is my family to do is curl up together in a big bed. When I was little and there was a thunderstorm, we'd all spend the night with each other. This will be our last chance to ever do this as a full family.
I do as I am told and shower before my prep team comes in to make me look a certain standard before my stylist comes in. The shower is warm, I'm used to it given I grew up in the Victor's Village. There we always had enough of everything. My mother stays in the room to watch over the process. She told me not to bother dressing after my shower that I'll just have to take everything off anyway. The prep team's job is to remove my body hair, do my head hair, and apply my make-up. My father's with Kaien to ease nerves too. I understand why they want to spend time with us, but it seams more like watch than bonding.
As my prep team enters they all squeal. I thought it was mean for me until mother returns the gesture. All three of them race past me and embrace my mom in a group hug. They break away and turn to me. "Hello Primrose. I'm Octavia, that's Venia, and that's Flavius." They all wave. "We were your mother's prep team when she was in the Games." Does that mean I'm in good hands?
I was found wrong as they started poking and prodding me. Venia complimented, "Wow! You're a lot less hairy than your mom was!" At least I think it was a compliment. It was true; I did like keeping myself pretty. I was able to. My mother didn't have the same advantages that I do.
Flavius begins my head hair. "Oh! This is so nice and smooth!"
"You know," Venia says. "When you get down to it, it's hard to tell the two of you are even related!" Octavia applies my make-up nicely, but lightly. More of the similarities my mother I don't have are shared. It's all physical stuff that neither of us had control over, but to them it's a new world.
Once they leave I turn to her, "You like these people? Willingly?"
"We've been through a lot together. At this point I guess it's the principal of the thing," she says.
"But, they spent this whole time insulting and criticizing you," I point out.
She sighs, "It's who they are. And they're still here. If you were me, you'd understand."
As she finishes the door flies open. In come a man with a salmon pink complexion, spiky golden hair, and two small jewels at the ends of his eyebrows. "I am Sasha. Your stylist."
"Sasha? But you're a dude?" My mother kicked my leg as a sign to shut up.
He clarifies, "It's a statement. A way to say it doesn't matter what you are, if you like it, you like it."
"Okay," I add. "What I would like is to be in clothes that won't blow me up."
He paces over to me. "All right." He takes my chin in his hand. He tilts it back and forth, up and down. "You are a beautiful girl. The preps did a good job. Stand." My towel came off early in the prepping stage. Sasha steps back and examines my body in full view. "So, you want to be in clothes. Don't worry, I was planning on that. You also don't want to be blown up. Well, how can you win if you're taken out before it starts?" He stops; a crazy look is drawn on his face. "That only leaves one question, how do you feel about pyrotechnics?"