The Demi Games

I'm Gonna Light You On Fire

(Piper)

In this reality, I'm a stylist.

I don't know how or why it happened that way, but it did. I am a Capitol citizen, a stylist for the tributes. I guess Capitol people don't have many options for jobs.

I work with a man named Cinna who, thankfully, doesn't seem as terrible or oblivious as the other Capitol stylists. We're both new, this being our first year doing this for tributes, and we're with the district 12 tributes. I'm ninety-nine percent sure that the female tribute, Katniss Everdeen, is this story's main character.

Cinna is in charge of styling her. I'm getting the male tribute, Peeta Mellark. Right now, he's with his prep team, and I'm with Cinna, waiting to meet our tributes. Neither of us speaks. We've both already discussed what we're going to do for the opening ceremonies. Finally, Peeta's prep team comes in and tells me he's ready.

I walk into the room, and I can tell Peeta's surprised at how I look. First of all, I look way younger than the others. Technically in this reality, I'm nineteen, but I still look like I'm sixteen. And most of the stylists they interview on television are so dyed, stenciled, and surgically altered they're grotesque. But I'm still in my typical outfit of jeans and t-shirt, my hair choppy, my face free of makeup.

"Hello, Peeta," I say pleasantly, trying to ignore the fact that he's naked. "I'm Piper, your stylist."

"Hi," Peeta says cautiously, giving me a scrutinizing look like he's sizing me up. "You look ... different than I was expecting."

"Younger?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

He nods. "I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new?"

I nod. "Yes, this is my first year in the Games."

"So they gave you District Twelve."

"I requested it." I don't give any further explanation, and I don't feel like talking to a naked dude for any longer, so I say, "Put on that robe and we'll talk."

Obviously glad to wear the robe again, Peeta does as I say and follows me into the other room, now without Cinna. Peeta's eyes widen as he takes it in. Two red couches face off over a low table. Three walls are blank, the fourth is entirely glass, providing a window to the city.

I nod to one of the couches and take the other, pressing a button on the side of the table. The top splits and from below rises a second tabletop that holds our lunch. Chicken and chunks of oranges cooked in a creamy sauce laid on a bed of pearly white grain, tiny green peas and onions, rolls shaped like flowers, and for dessert, a pudding the color of honey. It looks like something that my dad would have made when he had people over.

Just like he had with everything else, Peeta is staring at the food with an amazed look on his face. For a second, I try to imagine what it must be like to live permanently in a world like this. Where food is so hard to come by in the districts yet there's more than people know what to do with here.

"So," I say, "About your costume for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Cinna, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Katniss. And our current thought is to dress you in complementary costumes. As you know, it's customary to reflect the flavor of the district."

For the opening ceremonies, you're supposed to wear something that suggests your district's principal industry. District 11, agriculture. District 4, fishing. District 3, factories. This means that coming from District 12, Peeta and Katniss will be in something related to coal or coal mining.

"So coal mining," Peeta says, nodding. "A miner's outfit?"

"No," I shake my head. "Cinna and I believe that the coal miner thing is very overdone. And our goal is to make you stand out. So rather than focus on the miners themselves, we're gonna focus on the coal."