A/N Hey everybody! I know it's been a while but here I am all ready with a new update for you. I hope you enjoy!
I arrive at the Capitol the next day. The videos we see on our old television sets don't do the city justice; the colours that paint the city are so much more vivid in real life. There's so much to take in – the bright greens, yellows and pinks that cover the city roads and buildings, and the residents of the Capitol themselves.
We're greeted by a huge crowd of them. All screaming, chanting our names. With any luck, some of them will like us enough to become our sponsors once the Games begin. Sponsors give your mentor money – money they can use to give you life saving supplies in the arena. Without sponsors, chances of survival are dire.
With that being said, I can't help but hate them.
"We're going to stop directly in front of the Training Centre," my mentor Annette says. "You'll be met by your prep teams and you'll spend the rest of the day with your stylist getting ready for the tribute parade." The tribute parade happens in the city square. We're dressed up in silly costumes and paraded around on chariots, so the citizens can get a good view of us.
"Do you know what I'll be wearing?" I ask her.
"No," she replies. "But we have a new stylist this year, Gerard. I think he'll come up with something good for you." I hope so. Being from the grain district, our costumes are usually horrendous. One year, our tributes were covered in nothing but chaff.
That reassures me. "Thanks," I tell her.
"Today is going to be tough, but just try to grit your teeth and get through it." I nod, and with that we stop. We've reached the Training Centre, my home until the Games.
My prep team doesn't waste a second. As soon as they meet me, they begin scrubbing me down with countless soaps, oils and moisturizers. My nails are filed and painted a nice neutral brown. They talk to me the whole time, asking tons of questions. Eventually they are satisfied with their work and leave.
My stylist, Gerard, comes in minutes later. "Hello, Beth." He says.
"Hi," I reply.
"So, you're probably dreading the parade tonight," he remarks. I nod, agreeing.
"I'm going to be a grain stalk, aren't I?" I ask.
He laughs and shakes his head. "No, I've got something a little more elegant in mind."
Soon, I am dressed in a very gorgeous dress. Instead of making me a literal grain stalk, he has taken the colour of the grain – a gold-like colour – and made a beautiful dress. Though it is short – it reaches just past the top of my thighs – I love it. He's made it out of a shiny material that shimmers when light hits it.
He goes light on the makeup, just putting a few highlights here and there. He uses all neutral colours.
"This is so much better than I thought it would be," I mutter. He laughs, agreeing.
"We want to show you off. Dressing you up like grain won't do that, but seeing a beautiful tribute will."
I offer him a rare smile. "Thank you."
Gerard escorts me to the basement of the Training Centre, where we'll get on our chariots. All the tributes have begun to line up already, and I can't help but notice the stunning costumes. Some are outlandish, of course – like the tributes from District 10, who are dressed as cows – and some are outright incredible, like the bejeweled costumes from District 1.
I pat the team of horses who will drive our chariot – two beautiful palominos – until I hear Glenn arrive. "We match," he says. He's dressed in a suit made of the same material as my dress.
"So we do. Its better than being dressed up as grain stalks," I remark. He nods in agreement.
We're then told to get on our chariot and are lined up with all the other tributes. The others – most notably, the Career tributes from Districts 1,2 and 4 – look stunning. This doesn't come as a surprise, as the wealthier districts get the best stylists. I look behind me, to check out the last few groups. Poor District 12. They're dressed in coal miner uniforms again.
We don't have long to take in the others, as the music begins and the parade starts. We're paraded around the city square, much to the delight of the Capitol citizens. The tribute parade is important for winning sponsors – the residents will sponsor and bet on the tributes who they think look the best.
It doesn't take long for us to reach the centre of the square. As the roaring applause dies down, President Snow stands up and starts his speech.
"Happy Hunger Games. To our stylists, your efforts tonight are to be commended," he begins. The spectators cheer, but are silenced. "To our residents, I sincerely hope you have enjoyed this year's parade and perhaps have found your favourite tributes. To our mentors, welcome back to the Capitol. We are always delighted to have such a highly skilled group among us." The mentors are sitting with the stylists in the bleachers. "And to our tributes, welcome. You all look fantastic. Tomorrow, your training for the Hunger Games will begin. This is a very important stage in the Games, for many of you it will be the difference between life and death. But for tonight, let us celebrate your arrival in the Capitol!"
With the last words of his speech comes a final round of thundering applause. The crowd emerges from the bleachers into the city square and loud music blares from nearby speakers. The music in the Capitol is nothing like that at home – here music is loud and jarring, while music at home is meant to be quiet and soothing.
Our horses are taken by Capitol staff, presumably back to their stables. I try to go back in the training centre – I have no will to party, or to talk to these people who long for my death. Unfortunately, my mentor Alexis intercepts me. She won the Games when I was five.
"Where are you going?" she asks me.
"Inside, to my room," I reply shortly.
"This party is for you tributes. If you're not there, potential sponsors will notice. Go out there, make some 'friends'. It'll help you in the arena," she tells me.
I scowl as I realize she's telling the truth – these people could mean the difference between my life and death. "Okay. I'll go," I tell her. She nods, approvingly, and leads me out into the crowd.
I stay there for hours, eating some rich Capitol desserts that have been brought out and sipping something called champagne. I put on my most dazzling smile and try to win over as many people as I can. It seems to work, for the most part.
I'm exhausted by the time the tributes are expected to say their goodnights to the crowd. But don't worry – we'll be back in about four days for our live interviews.
Until then, I have to train.