Victor

Someone pounded three times on my door a few hours later.

"We’re here!” came Dorothea’s muffled (yet annoyingly chipper) voice.

I climbed out of bed, pulled my hair into its ponytail, and walked out. I refused to look around as we were brought into the remake center to meet our prep team and stylists. I’d have a week here in the Capitol after - enough time to enjoy the scenery.

Neither of my stylists spoke to me the entire time they plucked, pulled, and tweezed my skin until I was raw and red.

“There’s nothing...interesting to do with her hair!” I heard one of the female stylists, the one with magenta eyes, moan. I squinted up at them, trying to remind them that I wasn’t deaf.

“I know, I know.” The other woman sighed, peeking down at me through her thick eyelashes, pursuing her yellow lips. “We could just put it into a ponytail again, like the way she had it when she came in...that looked...nice?”

I wanted to fight them when they tried to smear my makeup on my eyes - I rarely wore it and didn’t want to start now - but they drew on my upper eyelids with a dark pencil. After a few soft strokes of black mascara, they deemed me presentable and offered me a mirror. Sighing, I glanced at my reflection, immediately hating the way my blue eyes looked sharp and cold.

“But she isn’t going to be ready for the Opening Ceremonies tonight! We haven’t done enough!” The girl with magenta eyes squawked, flapping her arms like she was going to take flight. “We don’t even know what the District Twelve tributes are wearing yet! Coal mining is so...so...boring!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell them I didn’t live in the Seam. Instead I let them fuss and moan and complain about how useless our District was while I sat there on a cold metal slab, feeling exposed.

“Someone should call in Ashby.” Yellow Lips murmured, folding her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes. “She’s her stylist, anyways.”

A moment later, a tall woman with bright green hair strode in, her lips painted bright pink and her skin as pale as winter’s first snowfall. I couldn’t help but stare at her. “Ashby Aldjoy - pleasure.” She offered her hand, her long nails scraping against the underside of my wrist as we shook.

Then she walked slowly around me, wrinkling her nose every now and then. “Oh, no, no, no.” She murmured when she looked at my face. “Black is too dark for her, er, complexion.”

“Black is perfect.” Pink Eyes argued.

“No, no, choose a lighter color, perhaps? And I’ve decided something fabulous for their costu-”

“Here! Look what I found!” The male stylist interrupted from the wardrobe in the back of the room. He ran in, waving a silver hazard hat over his head. “There’s two more in there! We can dress them like coal miners again this year.”

Ashby clapped her hands like Dorothea and smiled. “Sounds perfect! Even better than my original idea, I have to say.” She smiled at the man.

Again? Wasn’t last year enough? Both the District Twelve tributes were killed in the bloodbath last year - probably because of the stylists’ terrible fashion sense...I groaned inwardly as they hurried around the room, smearing more dark makeup around my eyes and stepping back to admire their handiwork.

“She looks good.” Pink Eyes muttered. “But shouldn’t we use brighter colors?”
Ashby made a frustrated sound. “No, they’re coal miners.” She rolled her eyes, like saying this explained everything. Pink Eyes pursed her lips and didn’t respond.

I was brought into a large room where a bustling group of tributes waited, eager to climb on the chariots and parade through the Capitol. I spotted Justen, dressed in all black and a hazard hat in his hand. He caught my eyes and rolled his, then smiled briefly.

Pink Eyes skipped over to him. “Don’t you two look adorable.” She chirped, pinching Justen’s freckled cheek. He wrinkled his nose and inched away. Pink Eyes grumbled and stalked off.

Ashby kept checking my makeup like she expected me to smear it all off before climbing onto our chariot. I glared at her until she got the hint and stopped smothering me. Justen and I stood side by side, watching the other tributes check their reflections and smile at each other.

The girl from Eleven hurried by, but I managed to catch a glimpse of her - she was dressed in a rose-petal gown that touched the floor. Her stylists gave her simple makeup and even a small crown of roses that sat atop her dark curls. I was slightly jealous of how pretty she looked.

Dorothea came from nowhere and clutched my arm, her claw-like nails digging into my skin. “Aren’t you excited?” She whispered to Justen and I.

I bobbed my head up and down, hoping to satisfy her so she’d leave me alone and stop talking to me. Justen just looked away. My hazard hat suddenly took a suicide plunge - it slid right off my head and crashed onto the concrete floor. Yellow Lips glared at me until I scooped it up and readjusted it.

“Shh! Shh! It’s almost time!” Dorothea squealed excitedly, clapping her hands again. Above us, I heard clapping and cheering and music tinkled in the background.

“Quick, quick, onto the chariots!” She flapped her arms, shooing us into the golden chariot. Ashby leaned forward and squeezed my hand tightly before offering a small smile and stepping back again to stand with the prep team. Justen and I exchanged a bewildered glance, but did as requested.

Looking ahead, I saw the back of the flower girl’s hair and watched her dark curls bounce as the chariots lurched forward, one after the other. Ours began shaking beneath our feet and suddenly jerked forward. Justen adjusted his shifting hazard hat and offered me a small smile that I failed to return.

Slowly but surely, the chariots left, making their way towards the City Circle. We exited the remake center and sped into the Capitol, people screaming and cheering all around us. It was overwhelming, really, and I had the sudden urge to grab Justen’s hand for comfort. He was waving and smiling at the Capitol people.

Instead I clenched the sides of the chariot and forced a smile. A rose found its way into our chariot and I scooped it up. One of its thorns pricked me and a drop of blood oozed from my fingertip. I dropped the rose, crushed it under my boot, and stared stonily ahead through the rest of the ride, trying to look indifferent to be in this situation.

Eventually we were brought into the Training Center - our chariots stopped moving and we were able to climb off. Dizzily, Justen walked to Dorothea, pulling off his hazard hat, who was smiling so big I thought she’d swallow her own ears.

“You did fantastic, dear!” She embraced me and I stiffened until she pulled away and frowned. “Fine. Be like that.”

Dorothea hurried over to Ashby, shrieking that our outfits were fabulous. Pink Eyes and Yellow Lips were both wearing smug smiles as if to say “I told you so”. I stared right back.