I can't believe it's been 4 years since this story's been published, and honestly- I really grew as a writer. I have a rough outline, but we should be getting into the games in Chapter 35.

Chapter 25: Style

~I kick that ceiling, what you gonna say?

No one can be just like me any way

Just like fire, uh~

Joette Tauruaia (12), District 6

Joette sat in a chair, looking at her freshly manicured hands, covered in a clear coating of nail polish. They were trimmed to the skin, any dirt that got underneath her nails was removed- leaving a pristine, clear coating. She'd expected the stylists to be brutal with her, but they barely removed any hair from her, mainly focusing on her face and legs.

The door opened to reveal an East Asian woman with her long black hair, with the tips dyed a midnight blue color, in two braids that laid over her shoulders. Her hooded brown eyes covered heavily with blue mascara and matching eyeshadow. She was tall, probably over six foot if not 5'11. She was extremely pale looking and looked like she had never stepped out into the sun before. She was wearing a short black dress, studded with black gems all over her body, including her black sandals, she was wearing.

"You must be Joette! I'm the head stylist for district six, Miss Park Young-Mi!" Her voice was shrill sounding, like there was a high pitch noise ringing in her ears.

"Nice to meet you," Joette smiled warmly at the head stylist.

She had no idea what to expect, after all, her fate was in her stylist's hands- and she had to hope that Young-Mi knew what she was doing.

"I'm so excited to work with you and your partner, Casey! Come, I'll show you what I have planned." Young-Mi grabbed her hand that was lying on her lap, and looked at the freshly painted fingernails. "I see they did what I asked… Come."

If there was anything that Joette quickly gathered from meeting Young-Mi, is that she was one of the people that will talk and you don't have time to bring anything up. Joette stood up from the seat, her white robe covering her body underneath, and headed into another room with a desk, a bookcase filled with several books and a couple of lounge chairs.

"Sit," Young-Mi pointed at a seat, while she took the opposite seat in front of her. She opened the silver metal lid to reveal a pile of croissants, the steam still rolling off of it, while she poured two white, porcelain teacups and poured tea into both of them. "Eat."

Joette quickly got the hint, and grabbed one, taking little bites around the edges of the croissant.

"Well I was going to something different, but looking at you… you're different. I want you to stand out, so what did you enjoy back at home that would be related to transportation?"

Joette quickly came up with an idea, that would also honor what she did back home,

"Maybe something firefighter related?" Joette suggested.

~We're going off tonight

To kick out every light

Take anything we want~

Merille Tesfa (17), District 1

Merille bit his tongue as the stylists flocked around him, pulling at every hair he had on his legs, arms and face. They trimmed his eyebrows, let him sit in a bathtub that smelled like lavender for a couple of hours, and practically had a full head massage when they shampooed his head.

"Such luscious hair," one of the stylists, the one with the fangs for canines, commented, gently tugging at the tangles at the end of his black hair. "So long- I have never seen this type of length on a guy before."

"It should be a style, maybe in the winter or something?" Another stylist commented- wearing bubblegum pink hair typed in two buns, with her bangs dyed a shade of violet purple. "Honestly, if I wasn't killed with this style- I'd probably spend my years growing out my hair, but that would take a while."

Merille didn't bother saying anything as they commented about his chair as long as they were doing their work and made him look like he may stand out.

"Alright, Merille… We have the option to cut your way as it may get in the way. Do you want us to?" The one with the fangs asked.

"Yeah," was all Merille said.

He heard shuffling from behind, as Merille continued looking at the white wall in front of him. He heard the closing of a drawer, with a pair of scissors snipping in the background. Every fallen piece of hair fell to the ground, without much of a sound, as it really occurred to him that he was doing it. He spent so many years growing out his hair, and now in the games- he was going to cut it short to where it was no longer going to be a liability.

He wasn't going to trust anyone not to pull his hair, and having short hair would eliminate that possibility.

Merille watched the shadows of his hair falling down towards the white flower, until the stylist paused at the shoulder and asked,

"How short do you want it?"

"Short," He replied back, "Not that much hair so that people won't use it against me."

The sound of the razor filled the room, as he felt more of the hair being gradually removed, the tickling effect that the razor caused at the sides of his neck. It continued on until the systlists stopped to a point where he still had a bit of his hair, but was not as long. It would also be long enough, "to style his hair in the upcoming days" as the stylists commented.

He brushed his fingers through his head, and was amazed at how drastically different the length was, and loved the way they did it.

~Don't fight the sea, don't fight the sea

Don't fight the sea

I went on to the shore, I couldn't see anymore~

Brine Clemont (16), District 4

Brine looked… ridiculous, for the lack of better words. His stylist, Alorha Grzcul, poked at him countless times as the needle went through the white cloth and into his leg. He was sure that after this was done, when he undressed and got into shorts and a T-shirt, there would be signs of bruising or even blood stains from the way Alorha kept poking him.

Another harsh prick hit his leg, and he gritted his teeth.

"Sorry," Alorha apologized, brushing the bangs of her white-blonde hair that was plastered on her face, away. "I didn't know how complicated this piece was… I took inspiration from old video games and anime," she explained, as she finished up the last bits of the pants.

"How does this tie into fishing?" He asked. "It seems like it doesn't."

"Oh don't worry about that," Alorha shrugged off the question, "How would you like to be the prince of the ocean?"

Brine knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, as he thought of what Alorha might mean by that, he thought through countless Greek and Roman mythology of the gods and goddesses he learned in school, but was coming out as a blank. He knew she couldn't have meant Poseidon, but he was technically the 'king' of the ocean, but he was recalling a blank.

"Who exactly?" He asked,

"You'll see."

Alorha moved off from the ground and headed into a closet and pulled out several things that looked like red fins, but it was hard to were spiky, and flappy looking- as if they were made out of rubber which would probably explain why they were so floppy looking against his arms.

She attached them to the skin-tight, long-sleeved shirt, and made him raise up is arms multiple times in order to get it looking right. Alorha fixed several things and poked him in the arms this time, as she attached them together.

Even while she was doing this- Brine was still coming up with a blank. It was definitely something that he had no clue on.

So he tried again,

"A prince of what?" Brine asked.

The stylist made no effort that Alorha heard him and kept 'accidentally' poking at him with the needle in between his shoulder blades, so he changed up his question to something else that he was curious about.

If he was going to be prince of something that was some sort of underwater mammal, then what would his district partner be?"

"What is Audrey going to be?"

"A siren, suitable for her looks."

"How come I can't be a siren?"

"Silly, boy… You don't ever hear mention of boy sirens, besides you'll love this costume."

Right.

He was going to like this.

He scoffed at the thought.

"Well, fuck... I messed up and this is ruined," his stylist admitted, cursing and Brine stood there in confusement, before every inch of clothing on his body was ripped away.

~Girl, girl, girl, girl

You gonna set me on fire

My brain is flaming~

Alda Rushiv (14), District 12

"God, you're a trainwreck," She heard the stylist-Olga Schwick- comment as she circled around Alda like a hawk.

Alda tried not to squirm as the makeup artist held her face as she carefully plucked some of her eyebrows that she hadn't bothered to sting away from creating fires. After a couple of plucks, she felt the relief as she felt the cool feeling of something being rubbed against her eyebrows.

"How the hell am I supposed to beautify her when there is nothing in twelve that is worth expressing," Olga ranted more. "Fix her eye to where it's less creepy looking and god, don't smile."

Alda quickly pursed her lips together and stopped smiling as the makeup artist did the word, dipping her brush into a light brown color, and dusted her stuck eye gently. She dipped the brush into the eyeshadow more until it nearly matched her other eye.

"Finally I could at least look at her," Olga muttered bitterly as she kneeled to look Alda in front of her face. "Her eye still looks creepy, but it might be better if you add some fake eyelashes, nothing too unrealistic… Just enough that it's barely noticeable, for it to work with the outfit I have planned for them."

The makeup artist got up and grabbed a couple of packets of fake eyelashes, and talked to Olga about which one they should use. It only took a couple of minutes, and fake eyelashes were gently applied to her eyelashes and Alda blinked, for them to make sure that the eyelashes were going to stay put.

"Great… Let's get her into the outfit," Olga said.

Both her and the makeup artist quickly put her in gray baggy clothes, that the length was perfect- just was really baggy on her. There was a dark dusting on the arms, knees and the hems of her pants. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out what her stylist had done to her, as that was what district twelve was known for. She looked exactly like one, and now she understood why Olga had put makeup on her, as it made her practically unrecognizable.

What normally marked her different, wasn't the gaping smile, was the fact that one of her eyes was stuck and makeup practically hidden the fact that her eye was like that. She smiled with her gaping teeth showing which Olga struck her in the back of the head.

Pain radiated from the back of her head, from the sudden impact of being hit from her stylist. Her mouth hung open from shock, as she looked at the grey haired stylist in shock.

"Why did you do that?" Alda asked, rubbing the back of her head.

"I told you not to smile, girl," Olga warned. "You don't want to scare anyone away with that creepy smile."

Alda didn't bother saying anything and cleared her face of any emotions while she was in the presence of Olga, in fear that she might get hit again.

I have the next chapter written, but I got to edit it because apparently it was edited 2 years ago, and a lot has changed, so that will be up shortly. Drop a review and tell me what you think!