Like Earth To Ocean

Chapter Three

The next morning is torture. My prep team, Trish Burkes and Inlala Spadaway help me into my "Throatal Mileena's Syndrome Medication Apparatus" (aka the neck tube) and then go right to work. The hole that was surgically made in my neck for the sole purpose of the tube had been made years ago and is kept open with a metal ring and capped with plastic, so popping it in is no trouble. It's attached to a scratchy, black square shaped bag attached to my right arm that deflates every time I exhale, which not only is annoying but feels grossly sweaty after being on my arm for five minutes.
And my prep team's attitudes aren't helping the mood I'm in.
"You haven't been shaving your legs?"
"Oh, Ais... You really need to pluck your eyebrows."
"These split ends..." Inlala exhales in such a way that reminds me of an angry horse that's just about to get struck in the face. By me.
I don't actually slap her, in case you were wondering.
I can see myself being styled in the mirror. My face is being contoured with a dry substance that looks so much like dirt it might actually be. My hair is unkept and messy and my bangs are clipped away and combed back, then sprayed with a golden holding spray.
After Trish and Inlala finish, Eta Malie, my stylist, leads me to my dressing room. In the glass tube was one of the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen. It's a ball gown, with the bottom layer made out of a dense white fabric. Jean overalls with the legs replaced with a sideways- seared skirt leaves part of the white bottom exposed with the ends appearing dirty and burnt. My shoes look like the clunky dark green boots the harvesters wear, but they're free of dirt and lace up to my knees. The finishing touch is a straw tiara woven from the same stuff they use to make our straw hats, which is woven beautifully. It's not beautiful because it looks nice, it's beautiful because it's made from the things that create District Eleven. That created me.
I smiled as my cheeks flushed. "Hannk zou." I whispered.
"It's my job to make you happy with how you look, Ais. You don't have to thank me. Now, let's get you into this thing!"

~

The person I saw in the mirror did not look like me at all. She looked... Ravishing. Beautiful. Real. I was mesmerised in how much I was not myself, but Eta clicks me back. "Oh! We need to get you to the chariots! Good luck, sweetheart, and remember to smile and wave!" She grinned and ushered me out.
An Avox with her hair sheared to a coal-colored buzzcut stands outside and shows me to the large white doors that lead to the chariots. I can feel her maroon eyes on me every step of the way.
She could just be admiring my dress, but as we turn a corridor I notice that her eyes are focused on my face and she appears urgent to get something done. She notices me notice her so I look down, embarrassed. I get a view of her left hand, which is marked with a series of thick and thin black lines and what appears to be a combination that reads 53662-MARYSOL.
I guess the Capitol does care who they are. Not actually.
Marysol opens the door for me as I turn to her to say thank you, she grabs my shoulder so firmly it stings, but she doesn't seem to care. All she cares about is the message she has.
She mouths the words don't forget.
I'm speechless for a moment. Does she know? Oh god, does President Snow know?
Marysol lets go of me softly and gestures for me to leave. It's not like I can ask her what don't forget means, so I just calmly oblige and find my chariot, which is led by two grey horses that have spots so pale they appear to be speckled with snow. They're soft brown eyes remind me of the mute servant that left me with the silent mystery. I rub their ears and comb through their pearl-colored mane with my fingers, refusing to say hi to anyone I will soon have to kill later. I don't even acknowledge my competitors until I hear the click of heels behind me.
I can't force myself to not peek, so I glance over my shoulder as living legend of Panem, Katniss Everdeen, walks behind me to stand next to her chariot. I can't force myself to around and introduce myself, so I just keep petting the horses.
"I like your dress." The cold voice behind me hammers in my ears and I automatically whip around. It's obvious Katniss said it, but did she speak to me?
I stare at my feet and mumble "Haanks.", hoping maybe she doesn't care and I won't have to explain why I sound like a two year old learning to talk for the first time. While sounding like a two year old learning to talk for the first time.
We both awkwardly turn around and return to messing around with our chariots, doing anything but making eye contact again.
I guess neither of us are talkers. Katniss always seemed terrifying and cunning to me, and I've held my tongue my entire life. You might think that as soon as the the medication flies by the lumps on your lungs, all you want to do is talk the ears off a cornfield, but it's not like that. I've never gotten used to being heard, and for some reason being noticed for more than that being alive makes me kind of uncomfortable.
Then, slowly, I notice someone walking by. Finnick Odair, the "sex symbol of Panem". As soon as I face him to get a better look, I immediately regret it.
He's pretty much naked except for a golden knot tied over his groin. As soon as I realize this, I immediately avert my eyes. He chuckles and walks right past me to talk to Katniss. I blush my cheeks off until the music starts, signaling the beginning of the parade. The chariot for District One starts and Chaff helps me up with his hand that wasn't lost in the games. He's dressed in a blue jean tuxedo, I guess to match my dress. It looks kind of horrendous, but I don't get what Capitol citizens are into anyways, and what do I know about fashion?
"You look great, Ais." He smiles, and I grin as well. "Hannks, zou tu."
In about three minutes of awkward silence between me and Chaff, the horses in front of us for District Ten begin to trot, and the crowd screams as we fly by on the chariot carried by the grey horses.
I allow myself a temporary, timid grin and raise my fingers in a semi-hello to the audience on the left side before I lock it around my chest as I awkwardly lean forward. I can almost see Eta and Zipporah shake their heads at my shyness, but I can't really help it.
The chariots circle the city square twice before halting and President Snow's droning speech begins. I can't look at up at him, I'm afraid he'll notice and wonder why, even though there's thousands of tropical-bird looking people to focus on. I just can't bring myself to do it, so I place my arms at my sides and stare at my gown until the horses sweep us away.
The parade ends as quickly as it started, and soon I'm back down at the courtyard waiting for Ashby, Garric and Zipporah. As I stand on the side of my chariot, I notice a man with long blond hair walk with two others trailing behind him towards me. Haymitch Abernathy. I met him a couple years back, I think he's going to talk to me, but he walks right past and greets Chaff. They exchange hugs and casual punches in the shoulder before I'm introduced to Peeta Mellark and Katniss, the duo traveling besides him.
"Katniss, Peeta, this is Chaff and Aisley, two of my friends." I shake both Peeta's and Haymitch's hand like how Zipporah taught me and I think I'm going to shake Katniss's hand too, but she goes for an embrace instead.
"The families?" She whispers. At first I don't realize who she is talking about. Mine? No their all dead. It's Rue's family.
"Hey are... Alive." I whisper back. I can't force myself to say something else, like happy or better, because I know they're not. It's District Eleven. No one is happy or better.
Chaff and Haymitch converse for a moment until Zipporah appears, wearing a bright red dress and a small, pale gray top hat covered in black lace and small light pink blossoms paired with absurd hot pink makeup. It must be hard getting up in the morning early to put on your face.
Zipporah exchanges a friendly, just-at-the-brim of creepily kind greeting with Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch with something along the lines of "Katniss, darling, you look wonderous!" "I love your outfit, Peeta!" And ends it with "We really must go, ta, ta!" Or some other stupidly polite dismissal before Zipporah leads us down to Elevator Six. Three more people get on before the elevator starts including one of which I didn't feel like seeing. Finnick had already made me plenty uncomfortable with his revealing outfit, so of course I didn't feel like standing next to him the whole ride.
He sits next toFawn Ruce, who is on my right.
I met and befriended Fawn, the female tribute from District Ten with her fiery red hair and near-black almond eyes when I mentored Elixendra Branne, the girl from Eleven in the 73rd Hunger Games. I also met Halo Morris, Nine's male tribute that year, but I guess he must've taken a different elevator this time around.
The female morphling addict from District Six is there, too. Milla Vanswan. She has a tight black dress on that ends just below her hips but includes a shimmery, almost see-through black skirt at the bottom coupled with black lace that settles around her on the floor. Milla's long black hair appears to have been dyed with red streaks and put up in a large bun with fake smoke chugging out of the top. Weird. Maybe it was to represent their industry, transportation. A steam machine that spouts gray gas meant to mock the exhaust that comes from trains, maybe?
For some reason, it makes me feel horrible next to her, with her eyes lined in dark makeup, her lips slathered in rose lipstick. Despite her edgy outfit, she's pathetic. A twitching mush, dying for another shot of the precious drug so many depend on for living. Despite feeling sorry for her, I can't avert my eyes until she steps off one floor after Finnick, who said goodbye to me and Fawn, and then finally Fawn exits herself.
"See you tomorrow!" She calls. I don't respond, just stare blankly as the mane of orange hair disappears from my view before until shiny white door snaps shut.
A tiny chime sounds as I finally get to my floor, the second from the top. An Avox with shiny brown hair motions for us to go to the dining room where Ashby and Garric were. After filling up with a green salad, bites of lobster spaghetti and finally a frilly fruit tart, I slip out of my dress and curl up underneath the covers. I tried to forget the games, and leave my life behind in a nightmare, it didn't matter. The more I yearned to forget, the more the memories hung over me like an ugly black cloud.