"Ow!" I cry out as the wax rips off my leg hair. I don't have much body hair, but they keep finding more to rip off.
"It'll be done soon, dear," one of the people, Venia, soothes me.
After I'm hair free--except for my head--I stand completely naked in the room, waiting for my stylist to enter.
When he comes, he inspects me over, and I feel really awkward. He's a young man with no major makeup on like most of the people in the Capitol. Just some gold eyeliner. I believe his name is Cinna.
Eventually, he sits down. "So, about your costume for the opening ceremonies. My co-stylist, Portia, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Peeta. And we've been thinking to dress you in complementary costumes. As you know, it's customary to reflect the general occupation of your district."
As District 12 is coal mining. In previous years they have been dressed in coal mining clothes. I'd guess it'd be the same this year.
"Yes," I respond, "so we'll be dressed like coal miners?"
"Not exactly. See, Portia and I find that coal miner thing extremely overdone. We need to make you two unforgettable."
What does he mean?
"We're thinking coal black outfits, fire to make it stand out."
Okay.... that sounds dangerous.
"It will be wonderful!" He exclaims.
A little while later, I'm dressed just as he says. A completely black unitard, black boots and a yellow, red, and orange cape. Not on fire, which relieves me. But later, when Peeta and I are getting ready to leave, Cinna and a woman who must be Portia come over.
"This isn't real fire, just some synthetic stuff we came up with. Don't worry."
I'm worried all right. When the tributes from 11 roll on to the road in front of us, I hear Cinna lighting our capes on fire. Afraid, I grasp Peeta's hand. He glances over, but says nothing.
We drive out onto the road, with Capitol people cheering us on. They love us. Peeta starts waving, and I copy him. I look up at one of the big screens, seeing it fixed on Peeta's and my handhold.
I notice that the capes aren't burning away at our suits. It stays only on our capes. The crowds are cheering for us, and I'm feeling great.
Once we get to the end, we briefly see President Snow on his balcony, watching the tributes ride in. We get out of the chariot, me still holding Peeta's hand tightly in my own small one. We enter into a large building, which is where we will stay to train until the Hunger Games.
I stay up staring at the ceiling, thinking about each of the tributes that stood out to me. From District 1, they are Glimmer and Marvel. They both look nicely fed and as if they've been training all their lives. Which they probably are. Tributes from districts 1, 2, and 4 often do that sort of thing, though it's illegal. They're often called Career Tributes, or just the Careers. There's also Cato and Clove from 2, Elm from 7, Thresh and Rue from 11.
Training begins tomorrow and I'm scared. I want to feel Katniss next to me, keeping me warm as I drift off to sleep. I want to feel Buttercup's furry body on top of me, watching over me. But I can't have that. I probably never will again.
"Katniss," I whimper. "Katniss."
I can hardly sleep, but when I do I have tears staining my pillow. I awake to hear Effie knocking on my door.
"It's going to be a big, big, big day!" She exclaims.
I groan, wishing I could sleep the day away, but after a few minutes I shower, get dressed, and pin my hair up the way Mother used to. As I sit at breakfast, I sit there staring at my plate, barely listening to what Haymitch is telling Peeta.
I can't bear to eat all this food while other people starve in District 12. It's not fair, even if I will be dying soon, anyway.
"Are you listening, Miss Everdeen?" I'm jerked from my thoughts, feeling my cheeks turn red.
"Anyway," Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Do you two want to be trained separately? You know, in case you don't want the other person to know your secrets."
"I don't care," Peeta says, "you choose, Prim."
"Uh..." My mouth feels dry. "No, that's okay. I don't have any secrets. I'm going to die anyway."
"Don't talk like that," Peeta touches my shoulder. But it's true. A starving twelve-year-old doesn't stand a chance against tributes like Cato and Clove. But instead of going on about it, I just manage a slight smile.
We sit there eating for a moment, before Haymitch breaks the silence again.
"What are you two good at?"
"Nothing, really." Peeta says. "Unless baking bread counts."
"Nope," he replies before turning to me. "What about you, Prim?"
"I can heal a bit, using herbs and medicine and stuff." I say shyly. "But the arena probably won't have that. Other than that, no."
"Of course, I got two who can't even fight." Haymitch slams his glass onto the table.
Peeta and I exchange a glance before I look down at my food again. I don't know what to say. It's true, I can't fight. I can't kill. I can't do anything.
In the training rooms, there's many stations to learn things at. Knot tying station, camouflage station, plus many stations with different weapons. Peeta heads off to the camouflage station while I go over to the weapons. I need to see if I can do anything. Picking up a couple knives, I go over to some targets shaped like people.
My first shot completely misses, and I'm aware of the Careers laughing behind me. A feeling of cold determination settles over me. I won't give anyone the thought that I will be easy to pick off. Whether I will be or not.
Gripping the knife, I position myself and throw. The weapon hits about where the shoulder would be. Taking a few more, I hit the arm, the cheek and the crotch. I ignore the guy Careers making comments about how the better watch out for my knives or they could get some nasty hits in the groin, and make my way over to the knot tying station. It's kind of fun, and by the end of the day I've mastered it.
I go straight to bed after dinner and sit up in bed, wondering what Katniss is doing now. Probably eating some rabbit stew with Mother, but not looking her in the eye. Or speaking to her. Though she loves me, she can't understand why Mother wouldn't do anything after Father died. It's obvious, Mother couldn't bear to live without Father. But Katniss still won't forgive her.
I wonder if she ever will. Especially after I'm gone, they'll need to be strong together. But they can't be if Katniss won't even look at her.
Training goes on and each day I try a new station. I'm okay with a spear, not so much with bow, like Katniss is. I feel pretty confident about the sword, but not with an axe. And of course, I really like the knives. Maybe I have more in me than I thought. Now I just have to worry about actually killing people.
Tomorrow is our private sessions with the Gamemakers watching us, seeing how could we are and then rating it. No one is allowed to know what happens in there, unless your mentor asks.
I hope I do well.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
