Chapter 8

Taris tugs at my hair violently. Winding it around his fingers and yanking back until eventually its pulled up into flowing swirls cascading around my face. I fight the urge to brush one piece in particular off my cheek and focus my energy on picking at the string I'd managed to rip loose from my sleeve, the perfection of the fabric was beginning to become irritating.

"Okay, you are just about..." One last hard yank "Done!" Taris smiles, looking pleased at his work "Now, open your eyes wide" He rummages around in his bag and emerges with a small sleek looking black pencil.

I shrink back, raising a hand to shield my face. "Excuse me? What are you planning on doing with that exactly?"

Taris rolls his eyes dramatically, as if I'm the difficult one. "Its just a bit of eyeliner. I'm not going to blind you Dicen, where's the trust here?"

"Probably back in the changing room with my old clothes" I grumble under my breathe, he shoots me a sharp look.

"I heard that."

"Good."

"The outfit looks amazing, it may not be your style, but thats not the point. The point is its the sponsors style, understand? Excellent." He says quickly, not giving me a chance to argue, not that I would honestly...he is right. Its all for the sponsor's sake, we need to make good impressions.

"Ow! Hey, no touching, We've talked about this..." I turn my head at Fry's voice, startled, just as Taris brushes the lid of my eye with the pencil. I swear.

"Ouch! You said you wouldn't blind me!"

"So they're doing it to you too?"Fry asks, shooting an accusing glare at the stylist team from across the room.

Taris throws his hands up in exasperation "Well, if you would hold still I wouldn't! Jeesh, District two was so much more compliant!"

Fry stares at him a moment, a speculative look on his made up face. I can't help but feel a bit envious of Fry, sure he now has dark silver slashes across his cheeks and his eyelids have been darkened as well, but he still looks like him. I on the other hand am barely recognizable in the large mirror hanging from the wall.

For one, my eyes are blazing with a dark ring of black 'mascara' around them. My eyelashes must be five lbs by now, the black has apparently brought out a bunch of black specs in the blue that before seemed to be none existent (according to Taris) that make them look as if they're almost glistening. The next is the ring of silver lining my lips that somehow manages to make it look as if I'm permanently puckering. I suppose I get how this might be attractive to the Capitol people, theres almost a mocking kind of perfection in the slight flowing curves Taris has shaped my features to. However, like the 'outfit' its defiantly not my style, nor is it likely anyone from the Districts style. But I can't complain too much, not after seeing Taris's first attempt at preparing my face, he'd made everything cut, sharp, and intense, I'd felt a jolt of terror just looking at myself, but after a second of admiring the job he'd decided against it, claiming I would be much more appealing if he were to "highlight the already blatant innocence of myself, appeal to the Protective side of the sponsors" and wiped the entire mess clean.

Taris huffs out a resigned breathe "Okay, no eyeliner. You win, but you are getting eyeshadow, so close um up." I make a face and squeeze my eyes shut, wondering where the hell they got all these 'makeup' ideas. Eyeliner, mascara, eyeshadow, blush, bronzer (which in our case is far more silver) lipstick, lipgloss, foundation and...I think thats it. Maybe, being a stylist is a bit more difficult than I've previously suspected, having to remember all that, let alone remember how to use it and for what sounds as complex as assembling a 450 set...

"Perfect, and very good, you were almost completely still" I smile grimly. Someone shifts to the left of my chair and I look up to see Frari and Fry making there way over to the doors at the end of the sloped room, Fry is staring at me almost questioningly as if I can explain to him whats going to happen now that we're all prepped and ready. Even I have to admit that despite the annoyingly fake and slightly Capitol looking attire, Fry still looks good, still Fry at least, with the ever bored smirk and annoyingly perfect features that Ara and every other girl I know will rattle on and on about, its just that now he looks more intense, and despite the Capitol makeup and costume he doesn't look 'Capitol.' Thank goodness... I'm not sure I could handle that.

Taris gestures for me to stand and leads me over to the doors after Frari and Fry, the teams call after us, but I don't hear them, not past the loud nervous buzzing in my ears that seems to carry down my arms and to my fingertips, making my steps still and mechanical. More people join us when we reach the hall and hustle us down the marble quarters, chattering to each other about the camera arrangements. I gulp and picture my family, at home nestled safely in our small rickety 2 bedroom house. Dad and Mayla are always wrecks during the Chariot ride, I can only imagine what they'd be like now... 'If Mayla is even their to worry about it' an aggravating voice nags at me from the back of my mind. I brush off the thought, I can't afford to think about that, not now. Hell, not ever, its not gonna do any good. If I'm going to die, then I'm going to do it knowing that its for a reason, knowing that my family is safe, thats all that matters.

We reach two large chamber like doors at the end of the hallway that fly open without having to be pushed, and are herded into the room which is basically a giant horse stable. People rush around the space, some wearing working clothes and others (in groups of two) are young, around my age, dressed in colorful and clearly elaborate costumes, all with a different theme. The tributes.

Fry comes to a sudden stop in front of me causing me to nearly slam into his back. He turns "Dicen." He reaches out his hand and takes hold of my wrist, his mouth opens to say something.

"This way District Three" A man cuts in he doesn't spare us a glance as he begins speed walking to the end of the long row of horse drawn chariots, leading us away from Frari and Taris who wave at us wistfully pointing to the pack on our hips one last time, as if they haven't explained how to turn them on enough. I keep my head bowed. We hustle after the man, Frys's hand is still tight around my wrist, pulling me forward. I should be looking around, scouting the other tributes since I'd only seen one and two's Reapings, but I find myself keeping my eyes low as we pass them, only feet away. Coal scuffs on the boots of district 12, Denim jean overalls and brown fitted boots on District 11, golden jeweled riding boots for District 10...Fry takes a sudden step back so he's directly beside me, blocking my view of the other District's tributes.

"They're staring at us, aren't they?" I ask, keeping my head bowed and looking up and him through my blackened eyelashes.

He smirks "Are they? I guess I'm so used to people staring I haven't noticed..." I almost laugh, mostly because he's only half joking. I glance up, wondering how close we are to are to the chariots and immediately regret it. The District 4 tributes are staring at us, with a weird kind of Hunger in their eyes, the boy, a tall lanky kid with hawklike eyes. Or at least he looks lanky at first... with closer inspection I realize his arms are lined with toned muscle. I chill shoots down my spine. The girl stands up on her toes then and leans toward the boy, her eyes on me as she whispers, the boy snorts and murmurs something back that makes them both crack into laughter. I glance up at Fry, expecting to see some sort of anger or fear, but all that shows is his usual mask of amused boredom.

He turns his gaze to me "You look like a dear trapped in headlights."

I make a face "How would you know, you don't have a car...have you ever even seen a deer...?"

He rolls his eyes "funny, its an expression... but really though stop doing that thing with your eyes, your practically plastering a target to your face."

"What thing with my eyes? I'm not doing anything..." He shakes his head.

"That deer in headlights thing. Don't get me wrong, I mean its cute and I'm sure the guys here are just dying to comfort you, but to them..." He jerks his head to the line of tributes "you look like a moving target."

"Well, I don't mean to do that, but hey, as long as we're giving each other advice, you should lose the smirk. Your face is pissing me off just looking at it, I can only imagine how they feel about you." I say, mimicking his pointed nod at the tributes. The words and gesture had slipped out before I'd even considered them. "I'm...not really sure where that came from...sorry."

He stares at me, one eyebrow cocked. "You confus..."

"Time to load up District Three" A man in a white coat says, singing the doors to the chariot open. I look ahead as Fry climbs in. No one stands by the two Chariots in front of ours, I suppose District one and two have already loaded. I'm momentarily relieved I don't have to see them...not yet at least, for some reason I feel as though the longer I go without having to see them in person, the longer I can go convincing myself I may actually get to see my seventeenth birthday.

Fry sticks his head out of the chariot and raises his eyebrows "Coming Bennis? We don't have all day..." I blink and shake out my arms in an attempt to clear my muddled thoughts. I climb into the chariot, the interior is much like the transfer car we road from the Justice Building to the train in, all velvet and marble...was it only yesterday? It feels like weeks since the Reapings...since I last got to see the District...my family. The doors slam closed and I sink back into the seat next to Fry, wrapping my arms tightly around my shoulders. We're jerked forward suddenly, the sound of hooves hitting concrete picks up till eventually its matching the too-quick beating of my heart. A quick clapping noise sounds as the top of the chariot unfolds and lifts back revealing open air and a large black tunnel.

"You two are going to want to stand up now" A man wearing a white top hat and matching jacket drawls from the front seat where he grips the horses rains. We stand.

Its dark enough in the tunnel that I can barely make out the outline of District Two's chariot about twenty feet ahead of us. I turn to Fry "Should we turn them on now?"

"What?" He looks startled "Oh, right...yea probably" He pulls out the small black remote from his front pocket and aims it at the small box hanging from my waist "Ready?"

I shrug "I suppose..." he clicks the button and the four lights lining the front of the suit flicker, becoming brighter and brighter until the beams morph together, creating the large holographic screen.

"Damn." Fry breathes "It looks even weirder from the outside." Just then a loud roaring erupts from up ahead, I look forward and barely make out the District One tributes Emerging out of the tunnel, their silhouettes wave leisurely to the invisible crowd.

"Okay, turn yours on." My hands are sweating and I blandly note the brightness of the screen encircling me, District Twelve can most likely make it out perfectly from the end of the line...

"Oh mhm" Fry shakes his head and blinks, as if to clear it. He presses the button and his sparks to life as well. The roaring is getting louder and the light down the tunnel gets bigger...I suck in sharp breathe. "Smile" Fry breathes as were emerge in front of the crowd.