Happy Easter! I am just starting to get back into writing again, and so pardon if it's a little jumpy. I am still looking for a BETA to help me out with that. And this should be the last chapter that's back story based, and from here on out there should be more dialogue. Just wait until you meet her love interest. The government stuff will be described later.
The weeks following were interesting, to say the least. Like I expected my parents had many stipulations. I was to have a body guard on the train at all times, which I already expected. They also required that I dress up like a person from the capital. Part of it was because word had already gotten out that I was going to give an interview, and people were on the look out for any girl traveling from twelve to the capital. If I traveled in Capital get up they were less likely to recognize me. And the other part was that they were afraid of how the capital would treat a girl in district clothing. If the rumors were to be believed, the capital was still trying to find their place in this new society. And with the changes remained people from the capital who were angry about their situation. These people were punished, yes, but it didn't stop the random rebel from taking action. So my parents called Effie, and she sent us packages full of pictures of the style of the capital, fabric, shoes, and makeup. My parents mused over the pictures when they first arrived.
"It's very different then it used to be." My father said while they were browsing through my pile of magazines.
"Yes. Who knew that the capital would tone it down?" My mother mused while tracing an outline of painted red lips.
"Well I suppose it makes sense with the rebellion and all. That they would want to go more natural."
"Do you think they decided that, or it was forced upon them?" My fathers head snapped up to look at my mother, and he studied her for a little bit. She looked back at him unashamedly, and he brushed a piece of hair behind her ear.
"We don't have a dictator, and neither do they. Those days are gone." He said in a calming voice. My mother merely nodded, and continued looking at pictures, lost in thought. Then my father said "Anyways, thank goodness. Remember how odd they all looked with their different color hair, and painted faces."
My mothers lips tugged at the corners. "Like effie, and her white face?" They both started laughing at that.
Even though styles were less ornate than they used to be, styles there were certainly still different then here. Apparently in the capital no one wore jeans, not that they would need to because they didn't do manual labor like we did in the districts. They wore dresses. Like ours they were made of cotton, but theirs were more form fitting. I had a hard time sewing it, because I needed to sew it personally to my body. The waist of the dress was cinched, sometimes with a sash around it. And the top there was never a straight neckline. They typically plunged, or had a heart shape neckline. At the bottom of the dress it somehow found a way to poof outward. It took me forever to figure it out. But over the months I had found ways to get my dresses to flow away from my body as well. Then came the hair. It was hard because it wasn't the typical braids my mother did, or simple curls like I wore every day. They would do their hair in sheik buns, and twists. Effie included instructions on how to do it and my mother and I would experiment all the time. Eventually, with a combined effort, my mother and I started finding ways to make my hair resemble theirs. It wasn't as poofy on the top, or as skillfully done, but mother assured that once I got closer to the capital, there would be people to assist me. The hardest part was the makeup. Effie forgot to include instructions so my family and I stared at the contraptions for awhile. My mother, figuring she had once worn the stuff herself, tried to help me. She spent hours studying my face and slapping things on, until she finally declared me to be done. As I looked in the mirror, I couldn't help but be in shock. My father peered around the corner, and as soon as he saw me his eyes got wide and he coughed.
"What?" My mother demanded.
"Nothing," he said, but he was it was clear he was trying not to laugh. I didn't blame him. I looked like I had raccoon eyes with a sunburned face, and a rash on my lips. Eric came in to see what the commotion was about. Once he saw me, he burst into a fit of laughter.
"You…. Look like…. A…. monster." He got out between guffaws, and this got my father going. Both of them were laughing so hard that tears were streaming down their faces, and they had to lean onto each other for support.
"Mwah I'm going to get you." I said and soon I was joining them as well. My mother looked at us with disapproval, trying hard not to smile. It wasn't until that I started chasing Eric around, trying to rub some of the makeup on my face on to him, that she too let out a small laugh.
"Remember that one time you and Finnick scared the living daylights out of me with that sunburn lotion?" My father asked and at that moment my mothers eyes lit up.
"HAYMITCH!" She yelled and we all stopped laughing to give her puzzled looks. "Portlynn, you should go over to Haymitch's house and surprise him." She said in sneaky tone. I looked in the mirror and I could see all the reflections of my family looking at me in the mirror as well. With my makeup running down my face I was a scary sight to behold. It wasn't long before we all snuck inside Haymitches house. He was laying on his tattered old couch, with a bottle of Vodka in his hand. He smelled like a decaying fish, and was snoring louder than an avalanche. I snuck up behind the couch and got as close to him as I could. I yelled his name and his eyes popped open in surprise. The first thing he saw was my mutant face in front of his and he screamed a stream of profanities, waving his vodka bottle in my face until he fell off of the couch. After he registered the laughter of my family, and me underneath the makeup caking his face got angry. He walked up to his bedroom muttering something about "star crossed lovers" and "thanks I get."
Later the next day my father, ever the artist that he is, tried to help me out with the makeup. He studied the pictures, and used his own paintbrushes on my face. It turns out that the red liquid like stuff for was for the lips, and the red powder stuff was to brush lightly over the cheeks. He taught me how to line my eyes with the black stuff and after hours of experimenting we figured out how to use the tube of mascara. The only thing we didn't understand were some pieces of dark hair she gave us. We were unsure if they went on my eye brows or not, so we left them out. But without them I started resembling the girls in magazines. One night, I put an entire outfit together. My hair was up in a bun, effies heels on my feet, a red dress graced my body, and my makeup was done. As I looked in the mirror I could hardly believe the girl looking back at me. I didn't know whether I liked the girl looking back or not. I twirled, and nothing changed. She seemed foreign to me. The more I looked, the more unsettled I got so I rushed downstairs to hear my families response. I found my father in the kitchen drinking some milk. He told me I was beautiful, and looked too grown up for my own good. He also warned me not to accept bread from strangers unless I was ready to marry them because apparently it's tradition in our household. My mother frowned and just went on another rant about being safe. And Eric told me he had never seen a girl look so sophisticated, and if I met any cute girls to let him know. I went back upstairs to look in the mirror once more. As I studied the girl in the mirror I realized something. She wasn't afraid. I tilted my chin upwards. This was it. She was ready to take on the world, and so was I.