The Hunger Games: Power

Chapter 6

          “Now, both of you, hurry along to your rooms!” Posala says. She laughs. “Your stylists will see you soon!”

          She walks away down the corridor and I freeze up. Oh, no…I forgot all about this part. The stylist.  Now I have to just stand still and let some idiot dress me up in totally fabulous frills and silk. Now, I’m not exactly bursting with joy. Personally, I believe there’s a special place in hell reserved specifically for the kind of people who actually think frills and silk are totally fabulous. Dresses are the bane of my life. And I do seriously mean that they are the bane of my life. I mean, the Hunger Games, sure, pretty bad, but dresses…

          Perhaps I am exaggerating a bit.

          But however I feel, I can’t change the simple fact that I absolutely have to go along with it without a complaint. That’s kind of how it works. Wear the dress or feel the wrath of the Gamemakers! I shoot Enapay a quick look. He was pretty shaken up in the conversation we just had with District Five. He nods slightly, and I feel sort of happy that we’re now able to communicate entirely through looks and nods. Not many people can say that. Of course, not many people can say that they’re going to die in an arena, so perhaps rarity doesn’t automatically equal…well, good.

          And as I walk down towards the door of my third floor room, that’s exactly what I’m thinking about. Why is it that people always want to take the once in a lifetime opportunities when there are perfectly pleasant things they could do instead as part of their daily routine. It just doesn’t make sense. I’d rather be normal and happy than unique and angst-ridden.

          I twist the shiny doorknob and walk into my far-too-frilly-and-silky room. The door is, of course, slammed behind me to prove a point, even though there’s nobody around to prove it to. I suppose it’s better that way. Less dangerous.

          I don’t know exactly how long I’ll be waiting, so I decide that while I sit on my bed I can mull over the concept of uniqueness and its association with good quality a bit more. I actually get to do that for a lot longer than I thought I’d have to, and a lot longer than I actually care to.

          My prep team barges into the room confidently- three people. The tallest of the group has ‘Amrecom’ tattooed to her forehead. She smiles happily. A woman with blue ringlets walks past her, right up to me. “Helloooooooo!” she trills. It takes some serious effort to bite back the urge to ask her what took so long.

          The third person, a tiny little man with gold stars dyed into his skin, snaps his fingers. “Darling, we are going to make you look totally fabulous!”

          Did he seriously just say what I think he just said? This is actually too hilarious for any possible words. I can’t…I let out a little giggle.

          ‘Amrecom’ says “Kenna will be in here in just a few seconds!” The starry man turns to her and squeals. He’s clearly looking forward to all the fun he’s going to have playing with make-up.

          This is kind of like watching animals of some description in their natural habitat. Not at all the kind of animals I would exactly call ‘wild’. Perhaps…’residing in the countryside’ animals would be more appropriate. I just nod awkwardly.

          “Darling, you’ll love it!” says the starry man again. He’s practically buzzing from excitement.

           ‘Amrecom’ turns to him. She seems to be the most normal of the trio. “Jarren,” she says sternly. He looks at her and nods, and he seems to make a conscious effort to contain himself but he’s smiling a ridiculous amount. This apparently calmer woman turns to me and the speed at which her expression melts into a serene smile is, quite frankly, rather unnerving. “You’re going to look excellent when we’re done with you.”