The Direction Games: A One Direction Fan Fiction

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   I’d already been in the Remake Room for over three hours, being scrubbed, waxed and shaped. It was painful work. I’d thought I’d looked fine before, but, compared to Capitol standards, I was filthy. It was their fault for neglecting District Twelve.

   “You’re beginning to look half decent,” remarked Evza, one of the girl’s on my prep team. She wore a huge, puffy pink wig, and pink outfit to match. Her makeup with silver and pink and her face paler than Katy’s had been.

   “Maybe now Caroline will see to him,” Lydia purred next. She was another girl with long greenish hair and chalk-white skin. Her eyes were really dark with makeup.

   “First, oil him up,” continued Danicio, “Then we’ll find Caroline. He stood there, applying a dark lipstick to himself. It was weird. His bluish hair cascaded around his face and stopped at his shoulders. “So far, he’s doing well.” He paused and turned to me, “We hate the tributes who whine at everything we do.”

   I’d just been following Simon’s orders. He’d managed to win The Hunger Games before, why couldn’t I survive maybe one day using his same strategies?

   Lydia and Evza proceeded to rub my entire body with grease. It stung at first, and I know I cringed, but then, it began to fell nice on my raw skin.

   I had no problem being clothe less in front of them. I had no problem being nude in front of anybody, really. I was fine with my body, and, if these people had to create my appearances for each public debut, I’d have to live with more ‘beauty treatments.’

   They pulled me up from the table they had me lying on, and came at me with small metal tweezers, removing any bits of stray hair.

   “There,” Danicio purred, “Now you look somewhat of a human being.”

    I shot a small grin at his joke. We didn’t really have to care about beauty in District Twelve. We lived in an unimpressive hole anyway. It was nothing but coal dust and wooden shacks.

   “Have no worries,” Evza squeaked. She sounded as if she were full of helium, “By the time Caroline is finished, you will look gorgeous!”

   “Come on,” Lydia began, “Let’s fetch her.” She took a step towards me, giving me back the thin robe they’d given me to wear in the first place. “We promise she will make you look absolutely astonishing.

   I slipped the robe over my shoulders and sat back down on the table as all three of the fluttered out of the room.

   Even though they’d spent the last three hours of my life insulting me – mostly insulting my slight deformity of having four nipples instead of two – I didn’t hate them as much as I’d thought I would. They were brainless little people, but I couldn’t find the energy to hate them. Why waste time hating them? Stupid or not, they were trying to help me have a chance.

   Most stylists I’d seen in Capitol interviews were dyed, made up and surgically altered. Honestly, I believed it looked atrocious. But Caroline looked different.

   She stepped into the small room, without my prep team following. Her long, black hair fell passed her shoulders in waves. It appeared to be its natural color. Her skin was dark, and her pink lips wide. Her eyes had a little makeup to emphasize them, but not enough to look fake.

   “You must be Harry,” she purred, lacking the Capitol accent. “I’m Caroline Watson, your stylist.”

   “Hello,” I mumbled, nervously.