The Great War.

VI

"Marching to Mournful Drums."

I grip the edges of the table and clench my jaw as Alora, a woman with green hair and glitter-painted skin, gets rid of my eyebrow hair with a thin string.

I'd spent the last forty minutes with my prep team, three multicolored-haired women who walked around while chatting loudly and removing the little body hair I had.

Fayette, a tall, slim woman, tells me to lie down on that table after she finishes removing the hair from my eyebrows, legs, arms, and armpits. She asks me to close my eyes and not move a single muscle.

I can't understand what she means until I feel a needle piercing my forehead. According to that eccentric woman, the procedure doesn't last long and will give me a more mature appearance. I will just keep my mouth shut and let them do their job. I recall the morning meeting with my mentors, held in order to take a quick look at the other districts' reapings.

Our allies are from District 1, Glimmer and Marvel, both volunteers, but that's the only information we have so far. We will also partner with the girl from District 4, Tara, another volunteer. The boy who was supposed to show up with her backed out, so a twelve-year-old boy had been sent as a tribute—a real shame for them and one less problem for me.

The other tributes do not stand out at all, except for the girl from District 12, the first volunteer in the history of the games. She looks in pretty good shape for being from the poorest district of Panem, but she hadn't offered herself for the reward of winning the games; she did it to save her younger sister. The bad thing about all of this is that those stories thrill the people of the Capitol, and if she gains popularity over the next few days, we would be at risk of losing sponsors. The boy from her district looked absolutely pathetic, so I didn't pay much attention to him.

When Fayette finishes her work, she hands me a small mirror so I can see what she has done. I notice that my eyebrows have increased in size, and this has changed my face drastically. Now I look angry, even though I'm not.

"It's a temporary, don't worry kid," explains Kezia, the third woman in the room, as she carefully observes her partner's work. "You're amazing, Fayette."

They make me stand up in the middle of the small room, and they take off the fine robe I was wearing. Despite being completely naked in front of them, I don't feel uncomfortable, because I understand that in a way, I'm nothing more than a rag doll they need to fix. They look at me from head to toe, searching for the slightest flaw in the procedures performed, and they applaud and congratulate each other when they find none. I think to myself that Lauren isn't all that weird after all.

"Ugh! You're perfect!" Alora squeals. "Look at you, as pretty and delicate as a midnight flower."

I feel the rage burning inside of me. I don't want to look delicate; I don't want to be delicate because delicacy means weakness. I smile and praise those women's beauty in the same way because, if there's one thing I know about Capitol residents, it's that they love compliments on their physical appearance.

I can't afford to be rude or mean right now, because if I were, I'd risk losing sponsors since the stylists who work with my district also work closely with the most powerful people on the Capitol. I have to hide my unpleasant nature for a while, at least with people who will be useful to me during games.

Alora, Fayette, and Kezia hurry out of the room, announcing that it's time for me to meet my stylist. I see the flimsy robe stretched out on the table I was sitting on a few moments ago, and the thought of putting it back on is tempting, but I assume it will be removed once my stylist arrives, so I swallow my shame and stand naked in that room with white walls. A few minutes later, I see how a woman with dark skin and brown hair, dressed in a tunic of golden feathers, enters the room slowly. She looks at me from head to toe without touching me or saying anything at all. I feel judged.