The Starvation Diet

3

I was the odd one, the one everyone on the train looked at funny. Everyone treated me a little too strangely, like I was a special kid and they were being extra careful about what to say around me. I didn't give a damn. Maybe I was the special kid. The special kid and the runt. What a great combo I had going on. After breakfast, Katniss didn't say anything else to me. Later, Peeta told me he would be coaching me, and Katniss would be coaching Brenton. I gave a look of protest. 

"No offense, Peeta, but my fighting style is more compatible with Katniss'." Peeta was not impressed. 

"Well you need to learn about emotions and attitudes. You're sort of unstable," he said, and I got a bad feeling in my stomach. 

"See, this is why. I don't want you Peeta," I muttered. 

"Yes you do. You need me. Without me you'll die. Now for some acting lessons. Pretend I'm someone you have a crush on. Tell me what you really feel about me," he challenged and sat down in a chair. 

"Look, Peeta, there's something that I need to tell you," I said, with fake butterflies in my stomach, "I've been thinking lately, and I wanted to let you know that... You're an asshole," I said and looked him square in the eye. 

"The first part was good. The last bit... Not so much. Unless that's how you pick up guys," he grinned and patted me on the shoulder. I stiffly accepted it. Tears began to fall out of my eyes. They dropped onto the floor, but some took some detours down my face. 

"Peeta, I just don't know what to do! I'm not very good with people and acting and stuff," I sniffled and wrapped my arms around myself. He approached me and gave me a bug bear hug. 

"No, it's okay, Catarina. I'm sure you have it in you," he reassured me. 

"I'll never get sponsors. No one wants to waste money on me. I'm the little one," I sobbed into his chest. He patted my back softly. I pulled off him, wiped off my tears, and laughed. 

"Gotcha. Don't you worry, Peeta. I've got acting all under control. I know how to charm people." His jaw dropped and then his mouth formed into a mischievous grimace. 

"It's alright. I think we'll get along just fine. Now let's see how you run," he said with a smile, "Tag. You're it." and began to run out the door. I darted out and tackled him in maybe seven seconds flat. 

"I think I've got bigger things to worry about than running, Peeta."

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"It's a big day, Catarina. Get yourself up and get ready to enter the Capitol," Effie sang from the door. I wiped some of the dried tears off my face and hopped out of bed. I went through my drawers and picked out a skirt and a blouse. Peeta told me to look plain and neutral. Nothing too much, because the stylists hadn't seen me yet. I brushed my hair and teeth, and somehow convinced Katniss to braid it. As we pulled into the train station, more people than I'd ever seen crowded the platform. I peeked my head out the window, and Peeta nudged me and told me to wave and smile. So I did. Most of the people laughed or made faces at me. The runt from District Twelve. The easy kill. I poked my head back into the compartment and Brenton gave me a look of sympathy. I looked away quickly. One day I would kill this boy. I don't need his sympathy. He needs mine. 

Effie escorted he and I off the train and into a cold white building. There was so many photos of myself taken. So many cameras... Like people would always be watching me dismount the beast of a train. In the building, I was immediately in the custody of scary looking people with feathers and glitter and many other unnatural appendages. I was stripped of my clothing and underwear on the spot, and they began their work. First, I was soaked in water for a few minutes, which wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't scalding hot. No matter how much I cried out, no one removed me until a timer went off. Next, I was pretty much slathered in hot wax, and strips of paper were placed on, only to be torn off of me, along with the first few layers of my skin. This process was unbearably painful, and when it was over, the ice bath they gave me was a pleasure. I took a peek inside a mirror. My eyebrows had been shaped into smaller, skinnier versions of themselves, and my skin was baby smooth. Probably because it was raw. My arms, legs, and underarms had no hair whatsoever. Next, some scary, sharp silver things were used to chop off the ends of my nails and some flat, sandy things were used to file them down into neat shapes. When they all left the room, I stole one and filed them into almost perfect squares. Just to rebel. Then, to my surprise, a strange man walked in, and I immediately felt insecure and embarrassed about my nudity. 

"Hello, I'm Cinna. So you are Catarina?" he asked and kindly gave me a robe to wear. I nodded, grateful. His dark skin was nice and glory, and his brown eyes were rimmed in simple, gold sparkles. Simple compared to the others. He took a double take at my nails. 

"Squares? Did they do this?" he asked curiously. I shook my head. 

"I did it myself. They look better this way," I announced seriously. He laughed, and nodded. 

"They're much more your style. Ah, I have the perfect idea. You'll be my gorgeous little gothic doll. You know, a little bit punky. For the hair. What's your favorite color?" He asked and touched my wavy hair. 

"I love purple," I blurted. He nodded. 

"Then that's what we will dye it. Bright purple," he said, and my eyes widened up like a kid in a candy shop. 

"My hair will be purple?" I exclaimed, and before I could protest, I was whisked into a hair and nail color station. My nails were painted an ebony black, and a mixture was poured on my hair. The mixture had to sit for a while, and when the towel was taken off, my hair was bright white. This made me gasp. The colorists tittered and continued their work, and soon enough, my hair was bright purple. A brighter purple than I ever saw. Bits of it were low-lighted into a dark purple, almost black. A greasy cream was ran through my hair, and some foreign object was used to make it into soft, wavy curls. It was explained that my hair would from now on be curly naturally like this. I didn't question the magic. I just let it happen. My nails were done and glossy, with little purple and yellow stars on the thumb nails. My toes matched and when I looked down again at my nails, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

Something shook me awake, and this time, there was a large, black word written on my arm in beautiful calligraphy. It said "Family" in swirly, sharp letters on my left wrist. A tattoo. 

"Yes, it's permanent," Cinna's voice said from the hallway. I tried to act upset, but I loved it too much. 

We went to wardrobe and I was given an outfit by Cinna to put on. It was black lace tights, tiny purple spandex shorts, and a big, white shirt that hung off my shoulder. I was decorated with clunky silver jewelry and some high top sneakers. I admit, I looked ridiculous, but I looked great. Finally was makeup. 

"Makeup is a bunch of powders and creams and sprays that make you look perfect. You'll have lots of fun with makeup, I'm sure," Cinna explained. I bounded into the little chair, and he began with a beige colored cream, rubbing it all over my face. He let that dry, then caked on a matching powder. Then he used a darker powder to "sculpt" my face. Lots of a black pencil called "eyeliner" was applied around my eyes, and it hurt a little for him to do that part. A scary black brush was combed through my eyelashes. Bright, glittery stuff was used on my cheekbones. I looked in the mirror and almost fell backwards. 

A beautiful, bold girl stood in front of me. Dark purple eyebrows, thick, long, black eyelashes and a lot of "eyeliner" framed my now popping brown ones. My face looked defined and confident, and my lips looked full and round. My big square nails had attitude, and the silver chain-like jewelry I wore was rebellious. I liked my new style a lot. It was a confidence boost. 

We walked into a building, maybe a ''hotel'' was what it was called, and we went up an "elevator" to a big room that I couldn't see much of because there was a big poster over my face. On the front of the poster, a picture someone snapped of me at the reaping covered exactly where my face was behind it. We would reveal myself to Effie, Brenton, Katniss, and Peeta. No doubt there would be some "publicity" there. 

Soon, I could hear voices, and one of the stylists announced, "Catarina Sanders before... And Catarina Sanders after! While lifting the poster from my head. It was immensely cheesy , and I almost turned bright red because of all the shock and embarrassment on Effie's face. All the people with cameras got silent. I trudged up the stairs, right out of the room. Only Peeta chased after me. 

"Wow. They sure did a good job on you, you look fantastic. More like the Cat I know," he said and ruffled my purple hair. I smiled. 

"I like it a lot. I think it's more me turned inside out, if that makes any sense."

"Say that at your interview," he said, "that was good." And then he just smiled at me. Which was weird. The only smiling people did at me involved laughing. Not anymore, I guess. We were going to ride the chariots tonight, and I was not ready. An Avox (that's what they were called) led me to a gorgeous room with walls that changed scenery at the touch of a remote and a beautiful King sized bed all for me. The shower looked a bit complicated, but other than that the room was great. I looked inside the closet of this room, and it was amazing. I pulled out a pair of really high heels and wore them around to practice for tonight. I fell flat on my nose right after getting out of the closet. Then again on the little stairs leading to the main part of the room. Then again trying to sit on the bed. And so I took the shoes off and threw them back into the closet, giving up. Then, I tried on some "wedges" that were just as high, and I could walk inside of them just perfectly. It was like walking in sandals. These were all black bootie looking things with a very tall heel, maybe six inches, and little black laces. I wore them around the rest of the day, and no one commented. No one really commented on anything I did. 

Soon enough, Brenton and I were taken into separate, strange rooms where our outfits were put on us. I wore a black, glittery, strapless ball gown. The end was torn and jagged. It almost looked like it had been singed by fire. My makeup was removed, and more was applied. By the time we finished, I was glowing. My face was glowing, and my eyes looked dark with lots of black around them. My lips were a very light shade of pink, and very shiny. Cinna nodded, and walked me over to another place where a large carriage stood. Brenton was all ready to go, and his grey eyes looked at me in the most admiring way. 

"You know, the way you stand up for yourself and say what you think is just so... Great. You're my hero," he said and helped me up onto the carriage. 

"Look, don't be nice to me. Don't make me get attached to you in any way. We can be civil, just not friends," I said coldly. 

"Come on, Catarina. We need to be in this together," he insisted. 

"No. I don't think you understand. In a few weeks we have to fight to the death in an arena. I will have to kill you, or make sure someone else does, or vice versa. You need to sit yourself down and decide, do you really wanna get attached?" I shouted, forgetting all the people around us helping with the carriage because they went completely silent. I didn't care. Let them hear. 

"Maybe we can help each other," he said timidly. I shook my head. 

"No. I don't have any problems with you. I'm sure you're a great guy. Blah blah blah. It all comes down to the winner. Just one. Never more. Never." I said a bit more quietly with angry tears in my eyes. He should have never even looked at me. 

"Get ready!" Effie trilled, and our carriage began to roll out. 

"No smiles," Cinna mouthed to me. I nodded in response. All of the sudden, we were in a huge stadium. Everything was black except for the flashing cameras. Millions of them. People cheered and screamed. But I gave them a hard face. Once everyone saw our carriage, they fell silent. Maybe it was my purple hair. Or the size of me. They knew a runt when they saw one. But no, Brenton was sitting instead of standing. Why the hell was he sitting?

I looked down at him obviously so the crowd would see, but looked straight forward again with the same cold face. I pulled my hand out of his. The cheers became a deafening roar. And when a sly grin passed over my lips, I was sure my eardrums had shattered. They sure liked that. Other tributes in other carriages scowled at us. Well, they scowled at him. For drawing attention. 

Any attention was bad attention in the Games. At least among the tributes. Speaking of tributes, I looked around the stadium at all of them. The people I would be fighting. They all looked happy. Proud. What a joke. What masks. But not for some of the Careers. They volunteer specifically to be in the Games. They come from Districts One and Three. I knew that. What I didn't know was why. Other than the fact that they had been training long before the reaping. 

A man with white hair took the stage. President Snow. Hair as white as snow. Heart as cold as snow. He began to speak with the fattest lips. Like he had been freshly punched in the mouth. But nothing like that would happen. If I punched him in the face, I'd be executed. Or whipped to near death if I were lucky. I'd like to see how fat his lips would be then...

"Ladies and Gentlemen, citizens of the Capitol, I present to you the tributes of the seventy fifth annual Hunger Games!" His abnormal mouth spoke. I almost threw up. Oh my God. 75. This was a Quarter Quell. 

"As you all know, this year is a Quarter Quell. That means that this Hunger Games will be a little different. We would have announced the twist at an earlier date, but we wanted this to be an epic surprise." He stared at the audience with a dramatic pause. I wanted to run up to him and put him in a dramatic pause for the rest of his life, if you know what I mean. "Two surviving victors will return from two districts. This will be drawn at this very moment." A tall girl in a red dress brought him a bowl with the label "Districts" on it. He fished his hand into the bowl. 

"District Four," he announced and plunged his hand back in, "and District Twelve." The girl brought him two bowls labeled "District Four" and "District Twelve". He stuck his hands in again and drew four total names. 

"Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark," he listed. My thoughts became silent. No. I would not fight Katniss or Peeta. I could never. But I had no choice. No choice at all.

 I held his stare intensely. His blue eyes seemed to stab in mine until he looked away. President Snow made me very angry. If I wouldn't get massacred for it, I would have run up onto that stage and punched an kicked and bit and beat that evil man. What a waste of life, let alone power. I hated him with a strong passion. He deserved to be killed slowly and painfully. Our carriages were drawn away and the people cheered once more. I saw Katniss and Peeta once we returned to the hotel. They both had anger and sadness in their eyes. So did I. I sat down at the tabe where they were. 

"I can't fight you guys. I'll lose," I muttered. 

"You can kill me Catarina. If you tried. You could kill anyone. You can use weapons well. You can mess with people's heads. You can charm them. Anything. You can do absolutely anything, and that fact is absolutely terrifying," Peeta said dully. Katniss shook her head. 

"Prim. And my mother. I'm absolutely never going to see them," she said with anger. 

"I have so many more lives than myself to take care of, Katniss. Josie, Angus, Jocelyn, Amanda, Fisher, Brian, Karey, and Jake. And my single mother. Not to mention Rosie," I spat, almost crying. 

"Who's Rosie?" Peeta asked. 

"A baby. A very very sick baby." Tears ran down my face. 

"Can't your mother take care of her?" he questioned. 

"She has nine other children to take care of. Do you really think he wants to ignore the others and focus all her energy on a child that's just going to die?" I offered. 

"You should have taken her to my mother's house," Katniss said. 

"I did. Your mother was the one who told us she had three months to live! She's just a baby," I whispered. 

Just a baby.