Celina 6

"Come on dears," Den seemed downbeat as he ushered Martin and I towards the television that dominated an entire wall of the main room, "I'm sure your scores won't be too bad?"

Ah, that explains it. He usually deals with careers, but our training time was embarrassing, learning the basic survival skills. I'm sure Martin was just acting, as I saw him launch a knife through the air, cutting straight through the rope holding up a dummy from across the training room. It happened so quickly I wasn't even sure it was him, but the flushed cheeks, and menacing glint in his eye gave it away, if anyone bothered to look at him. No-one even bothered to throw a glance in his direction, unsurprisingly; he was at least 20 metres away.

Den pushed us onto the fluffy sofa, which Martin immediately jumped off, choosing the thick rug on the floor instead. I loved the sofa, and stretched out on it. The softness and springiness reminded me of the rocking motion of the sea. There weren't even any baths here, only showers, but at least there was a saltwater option.

The screen flickered into life, and the capitol seal filled the room with light. A burst of music introduced Caesar Flickerman, his eyes and hair luminous orange this year. The smug face of Rolex lit up behind him, with a number 10 embossed underneath. Diamond got the same score.

"That's an average score for the careers," Finnick smiled at me, igniting the flaming blush that engulfed my face whenever he was near, "Don't worry." He turned back, and leaned forward, as the cruel face of Morpheus came up behind Caesar.

"12!" Caesar enthused, "That is amazing! Well done!" I looked around, and Finnicks lack of reassurance was the thing that worried me the most. His face was set in a grim line as Iris's face flashed up with the score of 11. I laughed as I imagined her reaction to getting a lower score than her brother.

All the faces in the room turned to me in confusion, as I giggled through the scores of District 3.

"Martin, it's you!" Den patted Martins head, prompting a death glare directed to Den.

Martin leaned forward so far, I was surprised he didn't topple over. His face flashed up, streaked with tears. When did they even take the pictures? They must take them from the footage from the reaping, when we are forced to look into the camera lens. A 2 flashed up, and even Caesar couldn't think of anything to say to turn it around. Instead he watched in silence as my face lit up the screen, with a 5 embossed underneath. I wasn't surprised, I swung a morning star around, which wasn't that bad, but then I pretended to catch my leg, and I fell to the floor crying the tears which had spent years getting me food when I had none.

I smiled to myself, and Den flounced out of the room, making me collapse into giggles again.

"What?" I half-spoke, half-laughed, "He's soo sensitive!"

"Maybe you should consider what it feels like to send kids to their death year after year, especially when they don't seem to care!" Finnick knocked over a vase in his rage, but it wasn't just directed to me, his gaze locked onto Martin's chocolate eyes. He stormed out, and I suddenly realised, it wasn't Finnick I craved, it was approval. Finnick was so nice to me, and I had spent most of my life with no approval from anyone. Then Finnick came along, with his hugs and laughter, making me feel special. Tomorrow, I was going to ask for Mags to mentor me, I couldn't face him after he blatantly showed he was angry with me.

I ran out of the room, crying instead of laughing now, into my bedroom, sitting under the hardest salt water shower, letting the familiar tang in my eyes soothe me, and I imagined I was sat under the secret waterfall with my father. I never went there after…

I fell into my bed, letting the abyss of sleep engulf me.

"Darling!" I opened my eyes to find my prep team standing over me, grinning inanely, "We're he-ere!" Really? I hadn't noticed. My prep team primped and pressed me into shape, waxing every inch of my body.

Candera clipped huge things onto my head, somehow arranging them so they felt as light as a feather. I opened my eyes, which had been painted by Kitty to look exactly like a beach. Golden powder shimmered near my eyelashes, blended into a deep azure, which then faded up to my eyebrows in a turquoise haze. Mando had stuck millions of tiny coral coloured shells all over my body, and they glowed like diamonds in the light. I could tell by the way he looked at Kitty, she had inspired this beautiful, bizarre idea. Somehow, I think Kitty inspired all of his looks.

"Well done!" Ferrero swept into the room, throwing his velvet cloak over the mirror. He skilfully ushered my prep team out with one arm, whilst juggling shoes, accessories, and a long dress bag. He set me down on the bed, embracing and air kissing me. The shoes went on my feet, but I took them off, I had to walk up to Caesar, and I would be in enough danger of falling over, without wearing ridiculous shoes. Ferrero noticed this action, but didn't act on it; he sensed what I was thinking. He unzipped the bag, and I was met with another of his beautiful creations. I put it on, and ran my hands over the silky bodice.

Golden material hugged my body, up to my waist, where blue silk swept across my body, and fell to the floor, where it seamlessly morphed into white net, mimicking the surf. A row of shells crept up my shoulder, and seaweed soaked in seawater came up to the same shoulder, but from the opposite side of the dress.

"Thank you." I whispered to Ferrero, gesturing to the seaweed. He gave a small nod, and hugged me tightly.

"Just remember," He spoke, adding a couple of Seaweed shaped bracelets, covered in glittering emeralds, and strings of shells, made out of cool marble, to my arms and ankles, "Stick to your strategy. The top of the dress is made out of satin, and the bottom, silk. It is blended into tulle, with tiny diamonds to make it sparkle." He grinned at my shocked expression. How many people knew about my strategy?

Ferrero pushed me towards the elevator, where Martin was waiting, looking uncomfortable in a dark blue suit, with the palest blue shirt. The sleeves were obviously too long for him, and his hair kept flopping into his eyes. I think his stylist knew about his strategy too.