The First Annual Hunger Games (Book 1)

5. One Good Thing

"Are you Inala?"

"Are you Aldera?" I give her a confused look. She smiles, "Just making sure." She stands and offers me a perfectly manicured hand, which I take. "Now Aldera, we need to decide what you want your image to be. You volunteered for your friend, which makes you seem sympathetic, but it can also make you seem weak. Some people will believe that emotions, feelings, are weak. We need to make you look strong. What else do you want the people to know about you. We can convey anything you want through your look."

"I honestly have no idea. Back home I never got to choose what I wore, it was just what was cheapest."

"Well I'll tell you this, Roxen's stylist and I have been working on a few things to represent your district for the parade. We'll just focus on that first, but I still want your input."

"Wow, I didn't think I'd have a say on any of it."

"Your image is yours to decide, I could never take that away from anyone."

"You know, you're the first Capitol citizen to look like one and actually be halfway decent."

"I hope you meant that as a compliment."

"I did."

She calls the prep team to come help her and they set to work. About an hour later I'm ready for the parade.

I have to admit, my dress is gorgeous. The whole torso is made out of bright green leaves. They aren't real, but even I had trouble telling the difference. They cascade down to my waistline and the the dress billows out in black material, ending just before my knees. They didn't touch my hair very much, just pinning a few strands out of my face.

As I look in the mirror I feel beautiful for the first time in my life. I smile at Inala. "I love it."

She grins. "Wait until you see what I have in store for the interview."

I'm led out of the room and down to where a bunch of chariots and horses and being saddled. Roxen's here too in an outfit made out of the same thing as mine. His shows off his muscles and makes him look like he was born in a jungle.

"It's amazing how different someone can look after a few hours with these people," he says by way of greeting.

"The question is, is it a good thing or a bad thing?"

His eyes skim over my body. "One of the only good things."

I'm about to rebuke him for checking me out, but realize I did the same thing to him and all the other tributes here. What's the point anyway if twenty-three of us are going to die?

"Hey listen," Roxen lowers his voice. "I know we probably shouldn't do this, but when we're in there we should have a truce or something. Like, I won't hurt you if you don't hurt me. Deal?"

I'm about to shake his outstretched hand when a thought occurs to me. "What if we're the last ones left?"

He drops his hand. "If we're the last ones left then you can kill me. You deserve to live more than me."

I touch his arm. "You know that's not true. In an ideal world nobody in here would have to die, nobody should ever have to die. I don't think anyone deserves this."

"But you have your family, your friend you volunteered for. My only sister died in the war."

"You have your parents."

He shakes his head. "Ever since she died my dad's been drinking to try and forget and my mom is worked to the bone to support us. They'll be better off worrying about one less person."

"I don't believe it." But my voice is drowned out by an announcer telling us to get in our chariot.

Inala and a man who must be Roxen's stylist come coach us on how to work the crowd. Smile, wave, be confident, no fear. And then the first chariot is pulling out. I watch the other tributes put on their brave faces as they're pulled away, and then it's my turn.

We're whisked out into the parade. The crowd lines both side of the street and the noise is incredible, every person here must be screaming. I put a smile on my face even though all I want to do is run away. I see my face projected on screens and I smile wider at the sight of my dress, the one good thing that's come of this.

The parade doesn't last long. We're pulled through the city and the we pass all the leaders of Panem, including the President himself. And then we're in a building that must be the training center. The doors close behind the last chariot and it's eerily quiet. The girl from district three starts crying as she tries to make a run for it. A hopeless endeavor, we must be surrounded with the highest security, probably rivaling President Dane's. She's grabbed by guards and taken into an elevator with her fellow tribute trying to comfort her.

Rye approaches us with a solemn look, but she doesn't say anything. She leads us into a different elevator and up to our very own floor. Floor eleven, somebody must think they're clever.

We reach our floor and Rye tells us to get settle in and that dinner will be in a half hour. I find my own way to my room and it's even bigger than the one on the train. There's a ton of buttons and gadgets scattered throughout, that I'll have to experiment with later. I open the door to the closet and I can't help but get excited when I see who's in there.