[Clove's POV]
"Watch it!" I scream as the prep team ripped away unwanted body hair.
"Dear, we're only doing this-" the guy named Darry, who had pinkish skin, put his hands to his hips.
"I know, I know," I ball my fists as Miriam and Blink begin to work on my uncombed hair.
After five minutes, they let me stand up without my robe and inspect me for any more flaws.
"You're done, Clove!" Blink beams at me, "You're so-o-o-o pretty now,"
"Uh, thanks," I say, covering my chest.
"But we could have done better without you whining," Darry complains, blowing at his red dyed bangs that came just to his eyebrows.
"Right," I say defiantly, "Can I meet my stylist now?"
"Sure, sweetheart," Miriam flashes her super bleached teeth with golden braces, "Wait here,"
In a minute, they're all out. I know I shouldn't sit or get my robe, but I do it anyways.
This isn't what I wanted, he said. I grit my teeth together. This isn't what I wanted as well. I'm going crazy. I suddenly volunteer for something I'm not prepared for and my reason is love. Love isn't something for the Careers. We usually die in the arena, except for some lucky ones like Aimee.
Cato and I aren't so lucky.
The door suddenly opens and a woman comes inside. Her hair is pure white streaked with pink and blue and is braided down her back. Her cheekbones are colored a bright pink and her lips a subtle blue color. I guess her dress was meant to look cool and sexy since her stockings and the edges of her dress are torn and frayed.
I hated her on the spot.
"Hello there, Clove," she says with an accent I can't quite place. "I'm Freshnida,"
"Hello," I say shortly. "Do I have to remove the robes and stand naked again?"
She chuckles and waves her manicured hand. "No, no need. Come,"
She leads me to a room with three midnight black walls and a wall made entirely of glass looking over the city of Panem. I look at the obsidian floor. Obsidian. Cato Obsidian.
"Now, Clove," her voice snaps me back to reality, "Tell me about yourself,"
She's sitting in one of the luxurious couches, and the table in the middle is full of sumptuous food. A whole roasted chicken ringed with oranges and lemon. Fruit rolls. Hot chocolate with mallows. I approach slowly but as soon as I sit down, I help myself to the food.
"I'm Clove Fuhrman, 15 years old," I say between bites and swallows, "I have two little sisters and I only have my mother left. My dad died when I was younger. I'm a Career,"
At this, she sits straight and eyes me with curiosity. "So you are. Now tell me Clove, about Cato,"
I freeze midway. The piece of chicken I was supposed to bite fell off my fork and I set it down with trembling hands.
"Nothing to tell," I say.
"A little birdie told me something is going on between the two of you," Freshnida smiles as if she found us amusing. I didn't.
"That little birdie is going to be roasted like that chicken over there!" I slam my hands down, "There is nothing to tell, Freshnida. I swear,"
"Good," she stands up and touches my shoulder. I resist the urge to slap it away. "They were thinking of making the two of you into star-crossed lovers you know. But that angle won't work for two, strong Careers,"
She walks away as she says, "Follow me when you're done eating. I'll get you ready for the chariot ride,"
Suddenly, the food didn't seem so appetizing anymore.
Star-crossed lovers. I wonder what Cato would say. Maybe it could work out for us. Maybe they'd pity us and actually give both of us the chance to go back to District Two.
I know Freshnida said that it wouldn't work out for two Careers who belong in a well-off district, but I was feeling hopeful.
On that happy thought, I stand up and follow her to the dressing room.