Firecracker: The 99th Games Book One

Meeting the Stylists, Districts 4, 7, and 10

District 4

Piero and Lorenzo didn't speak the whole rest of the train ride.

Giuseppe, their Escort, was quiet by nature and seemed to only feel like chatting with Lorenzo. Instead, Piero and Marco entertained themselves until they arrived at the Capitol.

The walk to meet their stylists was grueling. Stuck in the silence with his father, all Piero could do was think about what he had learned over and over again.

It had been Lorenzo's plan from the beginning to doom his sons. Why was his chest so hollow all the time now?

"...Piero?" Marco asked quietly.

Piero glanced down at him. "What?"

"You...you're crushing my hand."

"What?" Piero looked further down, noticing he had somehow taken Marco's hand during the walk and was now squeezing it in a death grip. He quickly released his poor brother, flinching. "Sorry, I just...I zoned out for a second. Are you okay?"

Marco shook out his hand, managing a smile. "I-I'm okay. ...Are you?"

"I'm fine," Piero insisted. Had his voice always sounded so flat?

Marco frowned, clearly not believing him...but he nodded in concession, going quiet again as the group entered the stylist's room. The whole group of stylists looked over as they entered.

"Dios mio," the woman at the front of the group muttered under her breath. "Lorenzo, you keep giving me the most ridiculous proportions to work with."

Lorenzo smiled, chuckling. "How could my own sons not blow the others out of the water? I'm sure you'll think of something."

The woman scoffed, shaking her head. "Two boys. Whose idea was it to send me two boys? My work is never finished. You, the shorter one. Come here, let me get a better look at you."

Blinking, Marco inched closer to her, nervous.

"Closer, closer!" the woman ordered. "I don't bite. Sbrigati!"

Startled, Marco obediently took larger strides to reach her. She muttered something, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair.

"So much hair," she mumbled. "Is it naturally this curly?"

Marco nodded. "It's from my Mama."

"Is yours naturally that straight?" the woman asked, without even looking at Piero.

Somehow, he still knew she was talking to him. "No, actually. I straighten it. It's usually wavier."

"Hm." The woman stepped back from Marco and placed her hands on her hips, then snapped over near the young man working with her. "Romano, passami la penna."

The young man passed her a pen sitting on the desk. She began drawing on her arm, looking between her skin and the two Ionica boys.

"Merfolk again, Annamaria?" Lorenzo guessed.

"Quiet, Lorenzo. I'm thinking," the woman ordered.

"What about different kinds of sea animals?" a girl near the back asked. "Like manatees! Those are fish! Or we could make bubbles out of glass! Or tangle them in fishing nets and cover them in tar to make a statement on the dangers of overfishing and ocean pollution!"

"Lulu, not yet, please," Annamaria warned, surprisingly gently. "You gave me two solid canvases and asked me to work with a water theme. There is no flow with boys. Santa merda, Lorenzo."