Anonymous

Preparation

"I swear to God, Theresa, if you don't hold still I will knock you out again." Adrienne hands are gentle, but only so she doesn't mess up my makeup. I can tell that she's trying not to strangle me.

I don't like having something so close to my face, and would almost prefer to be asleep the whole time. But if I'm unconscious, then they can do whatever they want and I can't stop them. Knowing what's happening this time is definitely a step up. Besides, this is my last chance to persuade everyone that I'm happy being Theresa Linen.

"Sorry," I say, holding my jaw still as possible.

"Whatever," Adrienne says, brushing the mascara over my eyelashes again. She doesn't care. Maybe she won't care tonight when I disappear, either.

Lucilla and Dawn didn't seem like they would care too much yesterday. Lucilla spent the morning trying to help my posture and teach me how to win the crowd. I don't need to win them- just to distract them. After lunch, Nolan went with Lucilla and I had Dawn. It was pretty clear that Dawn didn't expect me to last long in the actual Games, despite my training score. I guess she figured that anyone as unstable as me wouldn't survive. Her advice was mostly centered on keeping myself mysterious, as everyone is dying to know why I denied being myself at the reaping. From the look on Dawn's face showed that she would like to know too, so I have to come up with an excuse.</

I'm going to play the coward. That I was so scared of the Games this I was willing to say anything to avoid them. Especially with the recent tragedy of losing my memory and my family. I'm a native of District 8, who got the reset button pressed on her life. Then, on my way off the stage, I'll pretend to trip and fall but hit the ground running.

"Theresa. Just hold still for five more minutes." Adrienne grabs my chin. "Almost done."

Ten uncomfortable minutes later, Adrienne calls the prep team back in. Essia, Quintus, and August are still hesitant around me. Adrienne has certainly told them about my recent transformation, but it doesn't seem to be helping things. Essia won't touch me for more than a few seconds, and even August is keeping his distance.

I'm put in a layered dress, with different types of overlapping fabrics. A brocade design covers the straps and swirls down to the front. The effect is pretty but impractical. It'll flow behind me when I run, making it easier to grab. I run my fingers over it, pretending to admire the cascading fabrics, but I'm trying to see exactly how strong it is. How easily will it rip?

The prep teams gives careful, rehearsed appreciation for my dress before giving me jewelry. A necklace with a thimble on it, sewing pins for my hair. A measuring tape choker. The back of my hair is up, the sides down.

"The pins are rounded," Essia makes a point of saying. "So you won't accidentally hurt yourself." Or her.

"Can you walk in those heels?" Quintus says.

I test them out. It's an effort, but if I go slowly I can manage to maneuver around. Was this done on purpose? To prevent any notion I might have had of escape? No matter. I'll simply discard the shoes and steal others later.

"All set? Come on, I bet Jackson is done already," Essia says. "Let's go." It's painfully obvious that she can't stand to be in the room for another minute with me.

They hurry me out of the prep room, back into our quarters. Nolan and his team are sitting in the living room, Lucilla and Dawn all dolled up. Lucilla's outfit seems to be going with a blue theme, darker than Nolan and I's but with the same idea. Nolan's outfit is the inverse of mine, a tan suit with blue accents. Brocade only on the shoulders. Is there a point to this matching, or is it only for aesthetics?

The teams exchange compliments, but only for a minute or two. They're distracted, not paying attention to Nolan and I. He seems to pick up on this too, grabbing my wrist and pulling me aside.

"The knife. What did you do with it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I pull my arm back and let it fall to my side. He seems to have a habit of grabbing arms when he wants attention.

"I left one by your door," he says, nearly under his breath. "What did you do with it?"

"I don't need a knife," I answer. "My name is Theresa Linen."