The 63rd Hunger Games - Part 4

When Glint and Trinket had dismissed us, we both left the dining room for our rooms. A woman in uniform led me to my room. I went to open the door and she tapped me on the shoulder, holding out a worn index card.

'If you need anything, just ask,' I read. I smiled at her and nodded. "Thank you," I said. She must have used those index cards repeatedly with the tributes on the trains before us.

I walked into the room, admiring the grandeur. There was a downy bed complete with sheets and a thick blanket, a walk in closet, and a bathroom. Slipping off my shoes, I walked across the plush carpet and examined the closet. There was a panel with different options. I selected a plain t-shirt and there was a series of clicks and a compartment opened above the panel. There were four t-shirts, of the same type, each one in a different size. I took the largest and threw it on, then crawled into my bed. The last thing I saw as I snuggled between the covers was the purple dress I'd worn today and which I had laid on the table by the door  being picked up by one of the Avox girls and hung inside a compartment. I'd have to remember to retrieve it in the morning before we got into the Capitol. It'd be good to have something to remember my mother by. She had designed the dress and created it solely for me.  There was no one else who would have a dress like this. Thinking of her, I remembered something. A few weeks ago they had summoned her to the Capitol again and she wouldn't tell us why. She said we'd know soon enough.

---

In the morning I woke to a knock on the door.

"Hang on!" I called, scrambling out of bed and tapping the closet panel with a few quick strokes of my fingernails. I threw on a pair of skinny black jeans. It was cold on the train, I thought, shrugging the dark green, hooded sweatshirt over my head. There was also a pair of very thin socks which I pulled on. They were surprisingly warm.

I hurried over past the table and opened the door to Sariah Jones, our escort, standing there with her fist raised to knock again.

"Ah, ahem," she coughed. "Breakfast is available in the dining hall. Your mentors are waiting for you. They want to discuss what is expected of you later, as do I." She eyed my outfit.

I pulled my hair back into a tight knot, walking to the dining hall with Sariah. Another lavish spread had been laid. I knew the majority of the items from my time in the Capitol. I took a mug and filled it with a frothy type of coffee. I set it on the table where I had been sitting the night before and retrieved a clean white plate from the cart. Once again, I loaded it with lots of food. I settled down between Glint and Martin and began to eat. Martin shoveled down his food and got up for more. Glint ate from his small plate slowly, sipping a mixture of a warm drink called hot chocolate and coffee. Sariah wiped her mouth politely with a napkin and set it besides her plate, which still had some food left on it. She ate so little!

I began to wonder what they wanted me to prepare for later. Of course there would be the chariot ride, but there had to be something in between then and now. It couldn't be an interview, because those would be after we had time in the training center and received our training scores. Perhaps, we would simply be introduced to the important members of society in Panem, and maybe get to meet some of the other tributes. I wasn't looking forward to that. The idea of viewing them as victims who could easily be sent home in a plain wooden box was uncomfortable.

"So," I began, "what's the game plan for today?"

"Act like you're loving the Capitol when the Reaping train starts to pull into the Capitol. Wave at the citizens, smile, just be happy. The tributes are usually more noticeable if they're happy to be here. Remember, these are the people who will be sponsoring you in the arena. Without sponsors, you don't stand as good of a chance. Tonight will be the chariot ride," continued Glint.

"The chariot ride! Oh, I loved watching that when I was little! My mom used to draw some of the outfits and make them for me. That was when she had free time though and now ---"

"Shut up," growled Martin. He glared at me. I glared back. "I didn't think you would be so absent-minded."

I didn't reply, just to spite him. I knew he wanted to see me explode at him, but I wouldn't let that happen. I'd wait for the arena to get my revenge for all the snide comments.

"Martin," said Trinket warningly. He just glared back at her. "If you want our help, stop being so difficult. We both know you're doing it on purpose. I will not tolerate it. If this is going to be your attitude, you can prepare by yourself."

Martin stormed out of the room. It didn't surprise me that he wouldn't stay and let himself be cowed by his mentor. Sariah Jones went after him, calling back over her shoulder to us that she would need to discuss the arrangements for tonight with him, whether he liked it or not.

"Later," said Trinket, as if there had been no interruption, "you will meet with your stylist and your prep team. I assume you are comfortable with this and you will not disagree with anything that they want you to do?"

"Yes, I'm fine with it. Will I be allowed to make suggestions?"

"There is a chance that you will be, in fact I think Bevel said he would be welcome to suggestions from you," she said. "He knows your mother. In fact, most of the designers do."

"Oh, I have a male designer?" I shifted uncomfortably. The fact of anyone viewing my body, except my mother, who had done so on a couple occasions, was unnerving. There had been several times where she had to fit garments on me while she was working on their production. The fact that my designer would be male simply added to that feeling.

"Yes. Remember, he's just there to help you," Glint said. "They just want to make you look great so you'll stand out to your sponsors. There's nothing wrong with that."

I could see a couple of things wrong with that, but I kept my words to myself. It was like parading around an animal before you slaughtered it. At least they wanted us to go out in style, I thought wryly.

Sariah returned to the table a few minutes after the conversation had lapsed into silence. She said that she had discussed with Martin the approach that his prep team and designer, Edict, wanted.

"We'll retrieve him from his rooms later," said Trinket. "Let him sulk for now."

We sat in silence for a few moments longer. Sariah dismissed me to my room to change, showing obvious disdain in my outfit. I cared little for her opinion, but I went anyway.

I spent some time taking a shower and then padded across the room to the closet. I put on a light, low-cut dress. It had x's cut down the back and was rather on the short side. I thought I might be able to catch the attention of the male sponsors. If not, well no harm done. I took a necklace from the inside pocket of the purple dress and hung it around my neck. This was the token I had wanted. If I ever got picked in the Reaping, I had sworn this would be with me when I left. It was a small metal plate with a single card slid inside it. The joker, red on one side, black on the other, touched lightly against my collarbone as I walked back to the dining hall. Martin, arms crossed, glowered at us.

The first thing I noticed was how bright the room was now that the metal blinds covering the windows had been taken down. I crossed the room and looked outside. The Capitol, with its tall, high-rise buildings and the people with their odd fashion sense. I waved when people came into view, a smile plastered on my face. One elderly woman, with bright purple hair, gave a large smile and waved back. Some of the men had gathered into clumps to watch the train go by. I blew kisses, smiled and waved. It would be worth it to encourage these sponsors.

Martin continued to glare. Sariah and Trinket were whispering loudly in the hallway and I stayed by the window. Glint was nowhere to be seen. Our escort and mentors had dressed up for our arrival to the Capitol. Sariah was wearing a long black, ruffled dress, and her hair was curled. Trinket had changed into a navy gown of silk and pearls. Her grey hair was in a loose ponytail, giving her a younger look. Glint entered the room. His black hair was neatly combed and his suit looked fresh and clean. He shot me a smile as he crossed over to the others. Martin was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt. He seemed not to care about being friendly towards the Capitol and its people. His size and demeanor would easily win him his sponsors.

The train slowed to a stop. We were ushered out through a corridor where the Peacekeepers were holding back an excited crowd. I threw on a bright smile and waved at the crowd, acting like it was the best thing in the world to be here. Martin, arms crossed, stared straight ahead and ignored the crowd completely. I already could see the angle he'd be playing in his interviews.The others followed us, while Sariah muttered about Martin under her breath. There was a step up into the building we were being led to. I tripped and Glint caught me before I could fall and embarrass myself. Sariah hissed at Martin that he should be escorting me. I ignored her, as did Martin. We didn't want to act like we cared for each other in any way. There was no point encouraging us to try and be friends.

The extent of my relationship with Martin went back to grade school. We used to be close when we were younger, but he grew up to be moody and intolerable. We argued often and actually came down to fighting a handful of times. In wrestling he was constantly the victor. I was uncomfortable with being his ally because he would easily best me if it came down to competing and I was sure he'd try to cause a fight between us in the Arena.

We entered the building and were led to an elevator. As we shot upwards in the glass box, all of the Capitol was laid out below us. I gasped, moving closer to the window, my mouth open. It was beautiful, just as I had remembered it. The houses were arrayed in a rainbow of colors and the buildings were tall and sleek. Remembering myself, I turned, faltering as I saw the group of people approaching us. The other tributes had arrived behind us, but they had been blocked from view by the Peacekeepers. When we entered the elevator, they stayed behind, waiting in groups to enter the elevator. There was no chance for interaction. The Peacekeepers kept everyone separated.

The group was all of the stylists, for each district, and their prep teams. The prep teams for District 1 took me into a room off of the long hall. I caught a glimpse of several of the other tributes. Martin was led into a separate room. They retreated back into the hallway as I settled myself onto a chair by the window. The room was small, but the entire wall opposite the door was made of thick glass. The walls were painted white with the exception of the wall behind me, which was painted a light blue. On the right side of the room there were two doors, which led into adjoining rooms. As I examined the vanity, which was full of cupboards and drawers and all sorts of little compartments, I heard the door click. Turning around I was startled to come face to face with a handsome young man. He wore a plain suit with a gold dress shirt and his brown hair was dyed neatly with just a touch of black glitter on the edges.

"My name is Bevel," he said, examining me with clear excitement. "I will be your designer. Now, the first thing I want to do is introduce you to your prep team. They are all so excited to meet you," he said cheerily.

Three people burst into the room.

"Sorry, so sorry we're late!" One of them called. Her hair was an eccentric red. She wore a tribal printed romper and five inch black heels. I was amazed she didn't fall as she rushed forward.

Bevel checked his watch. "You're fine, just fine. Introduce yourselves and start doing the prep work. I need to make a few changes to the dress and then I will come back to supervise."

The three dragged me into the bathroom, telling me to strip. I did so, surprisingly comfortable with these people surrounding me.

"I'm Tricati," says the woman with the red hair. She begins brushing my hair.

The woman who is painting my nails looks up with a bright smile. "I'm Erita." Her hair is dyed black, straightened, and hangs down to her collarbone. She's wearing a light golden dress that compliments her dark skin.

The last of my prep team is a man wearing a striped ascot accompanied by a suit. His shirt is a bright teal which matches some of the stripes. His hair is a natural, curly brown. "I'm Aeron," he says in a deep voice.

"It's nice to meet all of you, I say quietly. They work on in silence, fussing with my hair, make-up and stripping my body of any hair that they believe is unnecessary. My legs are soft and smooth as I stand to go into the other room. Aeron hands me a robe, looking away from me. His cheeks are red. I hold back a giggle as I wrap my body in the soft fabric. I hear the door open in the main room and then the one behind us.

Bevel is waiting for me with a smile. He leads me into the other room and instructs me to put on the two garments which are laid out on the table. I put on the undergarments, which are both black. I assume they will match my dress. "Ah, you District 1 girls are always so beautiful. The girl I had last year, oh she was gorgeous!"

"Diamond was," I say softly. He frowns for a moment.

"Yes, yes that was her name. Ah, we must begin, Miss Devonix." He examines what the prep team did to me. "I should have warned you that Aeron would be working with your prep team earlier; that must have given you a bit of a shock."

"It was alright." He smiles.

"Then you should be comfortable with me as well," he says under his breath. He dismisses the prep team with the promise that they will see the end result before the chariot ride.

He tells me to close my eyes as he helps me slide into my dress. I can feel it already weighing on my shoulders and I want to see what it is.

"No! No peeking," Bevel instructs.

I pretend to pout for a moment. I feel him slide the zipper up the side of the dress and I know I'll be able to see the finished look in a moment. I'm eager to see what I look like. Then I remember this is nothing but a parade, a trick to win over sponsors before the initial interviews. Now, I'm nervous. I don't like being in the public eye,  especially if I have no choice in the matter.

"Now," breathes Bevel, "you may look."

I open my eyes and stare into the mirror. I barely recognize myself. The girl in the mirror is slender, curvy, and overall sexy. The prep team has tamed my hair and straightened it. They also applied gold eyeshadow and the barest bit of mascara. The eyeshadow made the gold flecks in my eyes stand out. But what I noticed above all was that the dress was made of a sleek black fabric that looked floaty, but which I could testify did not feel very light. Each time I moved, there were glints of deep, vibrant colors in the folds of the fabric. I twirl and can see the precious gems sewn into the dress, which were hidden when I simply stood still.

"It's gorgeous," I say, "stunning."

"I'm glad you like it. I must say, my partner seemed quite upset last time I saw her with the boy. He seems to be rejecting her attempts to work with him."

"He's stubborn." He frowns.

"I wish he would not be so!"

"I wish so too," I mutter. Bevel laughs, his eyes crinkling.

He leads me from the room. Outside, the prep team gather back around us, excited as they see how great I look. They follow us to the other room where Martin argues angrily with Edict, his designer and a member of the prep team whose name is Hash. Hash forces the suit jacket onto Martin. Martin turns to throw a punch and I launch myself across the room, jerking him back in a headlock.

"Quit your fighting! You call me absent-minded. Just look at yourself. They are only trying to help you. Can't you see that!"

"They want to dress me up so I can go stand in front of these people who I hate and pretend that I need them. The Capitol should burn and the Games should be taken down with it," Martin hissed. He didn't struggle against my grip, but stood calmly. Likely, he thought he would wait until I was unaware and try to throw me off.

There was a long silence as the large group of people seem shocked by the downright mutinous thoughts of this tribute. He was not only fighting the Games, but fighting their creators and supporters. Who knows what he would do if he ever got his hands on one of the Gamemakers, not that that was likely to happen.

"Just put on your clothes," I grunt. I let him go and drop back to join my prep team and designer. We wait patiently while Martin straightens out the jacket and his prep team attack his now unruly hair.

When we enter the area where we were to get onto the chariots, I noticed a familiar figure darting in between the horses, but I could not place who it was. Still staring after them, Glint helps me up onto the chariot as Martin clambers up besides me. He looks stony and agitated. We are the first to leave the waiting area. I wave to the crowd, playing to them as Martin stands next to me, a hint of a smile crossing his face. He waves stiffly, as if annoyed by all these people. I can understand how he feels but that doesn't give him an excuse for his behavior the past day.

We are followed by the other chariots. I watch the large screen above the crowd as we make our way around the circle. The tributes from District 4 look stunning in teal and grey matching outfits. The girl wears a chiffon dress which comes down a couple inches past her knees. Around her neck she wears a gold necklace with a trident hanging from it. The boy wears a matching bracelet. They are clearly going for a unified look and together they look fantastic. I wonder vaguely who there designers were, but I don't know many of the Capitol's designers. I dismiss the thoughts as we continue the circle and finally finish out. President Snow makes a long, monotonous speech on how lucky we are to be here and that we should be grateful for the honor of being in the Capitol and being able to participate in the 63rd Hunger Games. While the crowd showers him with gifts, we head back into the room we came from.

I spring down from the carriage, my mouth twitching as I try to stop smiling. Glint catches me in a hug. "You were great!" He gushes.

"Thanks," I say. Martin looks livid.

"I don't want to ever do that again," he mutters angrily. He stalks away to find his own way back to the rooms we'll occupy for the next few days.

I say a quick thank you to my designer and prep team.

When I go to follow my mentors out of the waiting area, the boy from District 4 is watching me. I turn back to look at him and he gives me a shy smile and a wink. His hair is a golden color and his eyes are a delicious turquoise, the same as his shirt. I smile back, unable to stop myself. Then, I follow Glint and Trinket out of the area, back to where our rooms will be.

"Tomorrow's your first day in the Training Center," Trinket reminds me with a bubbly laugh as we reach the door that opens on my room.

I open my door, just wishing it were something to laugh about.