A Victor's Ally - The 73rd Hunger Games (Fanfiction)

three

The roar of the crowd was deafening as we stepped out of the train. I was surprised that people even bothered to cheer for us, but then I realized that most of it was probably for Luke. I'm sure they would cheer just as loud while watching our gruesome deaths on national television.

Someone pushed me forward and I was suddenly aware of how I must appear to the Capitolites: wide eyed and open mouthed, staring at the crowd in surprise. Luke watched me with a grim smile, finding some humor in my dumbfounded appearance.

Pulling myself together, I started forward, waving to colorful citizens of Panem. I had no idea what my strategy would be yet, but I knew that appealing to the crowd was important, so I plastered a smile on my face. After what seemed like an impossibly long walk, we finally arrived at the Training Center.

"First things first: We need to get you prepared for the Tribute Parade! I'd like you to meet your stylists Saffra and Nimmo!" Hilda stepped back from a doorway I hadn't noticed, revealing a man and a woman.

The woman had long, straight, white hair that reached her lower back. I could tell by the wrinkles on her face that she had been doing this a long time, longer then the man beside her. Saffra made her way over to Luke, her long hair swishing behind her and her tall heels echoing against the metal floor.

Luke enveloped her in a tight hug, and it was the first time in a while that I had seen a genuine smile make its way onto his face. While the previous victor and his former stylist caught up, I turned my attention to the second stylist, Nimmo. Both his teeth and hair were glowed bright white, making me blink harshly as he stepped toward me with an excited smile.

"I'll be your stylist for this year's games, darling." His voice was sickly sweet and he bounced up and down, buzzing with energy. "We're going to need a lot of time to work on you, so I suggest we get started right away." His bony fingers reach out and grab mine, ushering me through the door before I have a chance to say anything else.

It wasn't until after my body had been stripped of hair that I realized how painful this whole experience of being a tribute would be. My body felt as if it was on fire, and this was only the beginning, a preparation so I would look nice when I entered the Games.

"Is this really necessary?" I snapped at the lady closest to me who was attempting to pluck my eyebrows. She shrank back in alarm, her unnatural purple eyes going wide.

"Now, now, Juliet. Is that anyway to treat these poor ladies?" Nimmo came up behind the chair I was sitting in, resting his cold hand on my shoulder. I resisted the urge to flinch away from his touch, knowing I would need his help to attract sponsors.

He stood me up on an elevated portion of the floor, circling me with a scrutinizing glare. "You seem very athletic, not uncommon, I suppose. But considering your small size, it's a wonder how you're so muscular."

"I'm a gymnast." I sassed back, not liking his degrading tone. "And I could snap your skinny neck in half if I wanted to." The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. I actually had no idea where all this spunk was coming from; I wasn't usually this outspoken. I guess I had reached my breaking point, and I was only just getting started.

Unfortunately for me, a small smile appeared on his unusually pale face, as if he knew something I didn't. "You'll make a great tribute, really."

In the second it took me to open my mouth and form a reply, he was already out the door, leaving me alone with the small group of overly perfumed women.

--

"It's really not that funny, Luke." I whined, putting my head in my hands. Or, I tried to. The thick stalks of wheat sticking out from my hair made it pretty hard.