Survive the Night - Chapter 3

I don’t think I slept a wink last night. Which isn’t good seeing as we’re pulling up to the Capitol now. Once I get off of this train, I will be forced to participate in a parade, three training sessions, an individual session with the gamemakers, and an interview. If I don’t get enough sleep, I won’t perform. And if I don’t perform, I won’t get sponsors and I’ll die early on.

Isn’t it amazing how the Capitol manipulates our thinking after our name is pulled out of that reaping bowl? A few days ago I was worrying about being late to my shift at the power plant. Today I’m worrying about staying alive.

The Games have already started.

Can I really be as inhumane as the Capitol? Can I really kill innocent kids who, like me, just want to live out the rest of their lives with their families in their home district? I don’t think I can do this. The closer we get to the Capitol, the worse my anxiety gets. My stomach is in knots and I think I may throw up.

I haven’t said a single word since I woke up. We’re all sitting in the reclining chairs in the dining car; Keri, Wade, Alexander and I. Wade is rambling on about what’s going to happen once we arrive. I already know so I tune him out. It’s the same every year. Tributes are led through crowds of Capitol citizens who have been waiting all day to see them and are then taken their stylists who completely change them and make them unrecognizable.

“Whoa,” Alexander said suddenly. I look up and see him standing at the window, his hand pressed against the glass. It seems like my legs are acting on their own accord as they carry me to the window. I don’t want to see the Capitol where people glorify the Games and can’t wait to see my death.

But there it is and we’re getting closer. My stomach gets tighter. The silver buildings loom over us making me feel small. This doesn’t help my anxiety. Even the way the Capitol looks reminds me that we’re below under their rule and I don’t like it.

The train enters the station too fast and I’m suddenly being pushed through the crowds. I feel like a tiny ant trying to escape raindrops. People fling themselves as me, wanting to shake my hand or give me advice about my clothes.

The people at the Capitol all dress like Keri. It’s crazy. There are vibrant colors everywhere. Not one piece of clothing is missing a vibrant color. It almost blinds me. We don’t have those kinds of colors back in Five. There’s just grey and black and brown.

My fingers find their way to the necklace wrapped around my neck. It’s become my safety net. I’m still not sure why it’s so important, but this is the only thing I have left from my district. The golden like texture feels cool underneath my touch. I run my finger around its oval shape to distract myself. But it doesn’t work.

I can barely breathe as we walk through the crowds. A mixture of claustrophobia, anxiety, and desperation grip my chest, squeezing it tight. My breath comes in short gasps. I just need to make it past these people and I will be fine.

Somehow we weasel our way out of the crowds and find our stylists. I’m given a blue robe to change into and then I’m led into a large building. I thought I would escape the crazy outfits and lifestyles, but I was wrong. My prep team looks the same as all the other Capitol citizens; colored skin, crazy hair, eccentric outfits. The head of the team, Martial, has regular colored skin, but his hair is spiked up and colored a strange shade of purple. He also has a golden ring on his eyebrow.

Doesn’t anyone dress normally here? I was so distracted by the crazy outfits that I barely notice what they’re doing to me. My hair is being combed out, my nails are being painted, my face is being washed.

When they’re finally done “fixing” me, they take me to this other room to wait for my stylist. I know who it is. His name is Crucis. He’s been the District Five stylist since the Games began. He’s not really a good stylist, at all. I guess no one else wanted the job.

The door opens and Crucis walks in, dressed in a bright orange suit. His eyebrows are back to their original black color. Thank goodness. Last year they were blonde and did not look good against his pale skin and definitely didn’t go with his jet black hair.

I’ve come to the conclusion that some people in the Capitol don’t care how eccentric they look or if their outfit matches. They just want to be in on the latest fashions. Crucis is proof of this.

“Welcome darling,” he purrs as he walks into the room. I cringe. I don’t want this man to be my stylist. Unfortunately I’m stuck with him. “Let’s have a look at you.” He circles me several times, observing my good look.

“The prep team did well. You look presentable. Now put that robe back on and follow me. We’ll go get you in your costume.” Crucis leaves the room without waiting for me. I hurriedly race out of the room and head in the direction he went. I catch up with him and he leads me into a small room with another dozen stylists. There are costumes everywhere, labeled with district numbers.

The second I see my costume, I want to bolt out of the room and run all the way home. It is the most hideous thing I have ever seen. I am most definitely going to be laughed at tonight.

“Come on darling, put your suit on!” Before I can argue, Crucis is forcing me into this outfit. It’s even more hideous when I look at my reflection.

I am in a full body suit that is the same pale color of my skin. It does not flatter me at all. In fact, it makes me look like a boy. And then there’s my hat. It’s pale blue and has two plugs coming out of it. Plugs! How stupid. I mean, I know my district is power and everything, but couldn’t there have been a better way to show that?

I’m just hoping everyone else’s costumes are equally as horrible as mine. Maybe this year will be remembered as the year of the horribly dressed tributes. That won’t go over well in the Capitol.