The Great War.

IX

"Suffocatig Expectations."

At dawn, the first thing I do is step into the shower. The strong pressure of the water on my battered back gives me a pleasant sense of relief, and the sweet scent of perfumed soaps relaxes me to some extent. I spend about half an hour under the water before deciding to get out. I select my clothing for the day using the enormous control panel in the wardrobe, and within seconds, I have a soft, satin black dress, sealed packages of underwear, and a pair of sandals at my disposal. The interviews will be tomorrow, so I suppose that we'll be working on every last detail today.

I leave my room and head to the dining area. I quickly greet everyone present and start loading my plate with food. My rage outburst from last night has left me with a gigantic appetite. I fill my plate with various meats and just a handful of rice, sensing that my stomach will start growling in a matter of minutes.

After finishing two entire plates of food and barely setting down my forks, Lauren grabs my arm and walks me to my room, where a practice dress and shoes are waiting for me. The shoes make it difficult to move around in the maroon-colored dress, which has around five layers of skirts and is rather heavy. I feel much better about myself now that I am fifteen centimeters taller, even if I sway side to side when I try to walk in them.

Lauren takes me to the common room and makes me walk around the entire floor twice to get used to the heels. On the third round, she puts a hand on my back and gives me gentle pinches whenever my posture is incorrect. I bite the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from ripping her arm off the fifth time her nails dig into my back.

Realizing that no matter how many pinches she gives me, it won't be enough to correct my posture, she grabs a large book and places it on my head. There I am, looking absolutely insane, trying to stay upright while my mentors laugh from the couch in the common room. The dress gets tangled in my shoes, and I can't lift the skirt above my ankles. I feel like the trunk of a large tree, still lacking the slightest hint of the grace I need.

Sitting with proper posture is no longer an issue. I can keep my back straight and firm. Fake smiles come naturally to me because it's something I've been using daily since I left my district a few days ago. I think about my home for a moment, wondering if Ravus is doing okay and if he has found food elsewhere now that I'm not there to feed him. He has a safe shelter in my house, but food must be a problem for the poor little creature I left to fend for himself. When I win the games, I'll make sure there's food available for him twenty-four hours a day.

"Please, for the love of your district, stop crossing your arms!" Lauren's patience is reaching its limit, thanks to Cato, who seems to be constantly angry. "I'm not asking you to laugh or act nicely, but get your hands off your chest."

Lauren has the ability to never appear angry under any circumstances. Her wide smile becomes chilling when she scolds my district partner. You can feel the annoyance in her voice, but her face doesn't reflect that emotion. It's a rather strange situation.

"Clove," she calls, snapping her fingers in front of my eyes, as I had dissociated once again. "Get it together, young lady."

Finally, after about five hours of practice, I manage to master the proper posture and walk with those infernal shoes. Maybe being a tall person is overrated after all. I feel true joy when Lauren tells me I can take off the shoes. My feet hurt, and I'm sure I'll experience some sprains or cramps soon. Next time, they can put Cato in heels.

I'm uncomfortable with the shoes, and Cato doesn't seem pleased with his outfit either. It's clear that the suit restricts his movement and doesn't allow him to breathe properly. Once Lauren's work is done, we sit around the dining table, where an array of top-notch pastries, all kinds of sweets, coffee, and juices from every fruit imaginable are laid out.