Chapter 26

Half of my prep team perfects my skin and complexion as they did on before my first interview. They clean up and add darker highlights to my golden brown hair, giving me a more mature appearance. It's quickly pulled back into a strict ponytail and they darken my eyebrows ever so slightly. From there, they work on a smoky eye shadow for me. They elongate my eyelashes and then wipe them with silver mascara at the very ends of my lashes.

The other half of my prep team works on my nails, painting them a reflective silver color. They do about three coats of various functions before they're satisfied. Then, they run my hands through a machine that dries them in an instant. From there they take off my clothes precisely so they don't damage the work they've done, and leave me with a light blue robe to wear until Garry comes in with my clothes.

He puts me into a puffy white dress with a thick silver ribbon running across my stomach. Garry ties the ribbon so that it keeps my dress pulled in, but loose enough so I don't look thinner than I already am. The dress reaches my mid-thigh, right below where my scar from the birds originally was. I keep pulling the dress down, still thinking the scar is still there, but I remember it's not and quickly stop the habit.

Garry pulls out a pair of heels that are the same reflective silver as my nails, and I put them on, buckling the strap around my ankle a little loose for comfort. He puts his arms on my shoulders and smiles at me.

"You look beautiful." He says. I don't feel beautiful.

I feel just as I did when I left the arena, only prettier. As strange as it sounds, I miss my scars. I want them back. It's not natural to just have scars disappear like that. Scars remain and remind you constantly of how you got them. I don't know what they did to get rid of them, but I want them back.

After a moment of pause, Garry bends his knees so his eyes are perfectly parallel to mine.

"I know I can't understand what you're going through but I can try and help." He tells me.

I look down at his hands, which are still on my shoulders, and notice the same scars all over them that I noticed the first day I met him. I'm jealous of them.

Looking back up, I give him a very meek "okay."

He stares into my eyes just a second longer and then stands back up, towering a few inches above me as normal. Even with the heels he's still taller than me.

I follow him out of the prep room and to the elevators. We take them to the first floor and then make a left out of the elevator. Then, through a backroom, Garry takes me down a short flight of steps, which leads under the stage for the interviews.

They like to vary the way the victor enters every year. Sometimes they just walk in from behind a curtain, or enter through the back doors of the interview room. Other times they've had the victor lowered from the ceiling, or stand up in an audience chair, secretly sitting amongst the crowd and hidden with the use of a mask and wig. This year they decide to reuse an old way by having me rise up in a mock pedestal like the ones around the Cornucopia. The idea gives me anxiety and my heart rate builds up and I breathe faster and faster.

Noticing my near heart attack mid-process, Garry pulls me aside and talks to me slowly and directly.

"Don't let it get to you." He advises me. " They don't get how damaging it is for you to rise up on stage like that, that's all. They're trying to let you have an enjoyable time, so just pretend like it is an enjoyable time and maybe that will help."

His advice falls short of helpless. I know he's trying, but it's not helping. How do they think this will be an enjoyable time? For someone who just spent 17 days watching 23 people die, recreating their experience is far from an enjoyable time.

I take it for what it is though. In a few days I'll be on my way home and I can isolate myself from everyone until I see my mom and Annie again. I can't wait for that day.

A few crewmembers from the Caesar Flickerman Show take me next to the replica platform that will raise me up to the stage. They explain that when they begin announcing my name, I'm to stand on the platform and wait. When it rises up they tell me to stay still and keep my arms at my side. I don't know if they expect me to be flailing my arms or something, but I nod my head in agreement so they leave me alone.

First they announce my prep team and Billee's stylist. Then, Garry and Siarrah, who go on as a team. Caesar asks them about all the looks they've given me and why they chose the, and they two of them go on for a while because fashion is what they love. Then, they cut to commercial, and when they come back, they bring in Miranda and then Charlie and Rootina on stage. Miranda doesn't say much. She tells a story about the day she trained me for the interview and how then and there she knew I'd win. It brings out a lot of laughs and a few tears from the audience, but I wonder the story's authenticity. I never had the chance to really connect with Miranda, so I have no clue how much she actually likes me. Then, Caesar directs the conversation to Charlie and Rootina. The two of them talk about how much they helped me as mentors and make up stories about all the fun we had. Secretly I know they ignored me most of the time and favored Billee, but now that he's dead they'll make up anything to give themselves a good reputation. They only mention Billee's name once.

The show goes to one more quick commercial, and Caesar begins a short monologue, talking about me as a competitor and how I shined during the interviews and the chariots and the training. This is my clear signal to stand on the platform, so I stand there waiting, until I hear the low rumble of the platform beginning to work, and my ascent begins. After half an hour of waiting, my time has finally come, and I am definitely not ready.