The Forgotten Games

Chapter 8: Glitz and Glamour

The train stops at the end of the crowd by a small concrete platform. Jinx informs us that the past Victors will exist the train first, and we will follow suit. I stand by the metal door, flatten my dress, and pat my braids to make sure they haven't fallen.

My heart beats faster, but I exhale deeply and feel a comfort in my heart that I haven't felt in years. My sister was here. Standing where I am. I won't do this only for myself anymore; I'll do it for us. I'll take what she should have had from the capital. A crown and a title. Victor.

A wave of wind hits me as the doors open, and I step into the train entrance. People are screaming and cheering outside the train in anticipation. Jinx signals for me to go, and I step onto the platform with a smile and a wave. The capital people, in their queer costumes and makeup, wave back as I am guided to another armored vehicle.

I hurry to the furthest seat, but this time, there is no sickening disinfectant smell. Instead, I am met with flowers and vanilla, the first of many capital "luxuries." The glitz and glamour won't blind me. I know how many young souls have sat here just to be murdered by the Capital later.

Gillian sulks into the seat beside Jinx, and the car slowly departs. On the way, the crowd is lethargic to part and it adds more time than Jinx would like to our trip. Eventually, we arrive at a massive metal building that looks as inviting as barbed wire. We are ushered in and told to stay behind Jink, who leads us to a table where our fingers are again pricked and placed on a similar information card as at the reaping.

As we make our way down a seemingly endless, wide hallway, my eyes wander into the rooms that line its sides. Blurred faces engage in hushed conversations, wide eyes of guards stare at us, men passing out their heads down. Finally, we reach the end of the hall, where Jinx presses a button with a downward arrow. My head instinctively turns, catching a glimpse through a small round window in a door, just at the edge of my vision. My curiosity builds as I wonder what lies beyond.

I catch a glimpse of flowing brown hair that brushes away from the window, and in that instant, our gazes connect. It's Peeta. There's someone else in the room, yet his focus is solely on me, lost in his own thoughts. Just as I hear a ding, signaling the elevator's arrival, I eagerly turn my attention forward. But as I take a step, I can't help but steal one last glance back, finding his deep blue eyes still fixed on me, piercing through my very being.

Jinx presses a button marked negative four, and we descend. Gill shifts closer, making me want to scratch mine and his skin off. He presses his front against my back, and I want to scream, but just as I almost break, the elevator opens, and I pour out.

"Well, someone's eager for a shower!" A male nurse with long eyelashes and spiked hair exclaims in excitement.

Kill me.

"This way, Miss Cane," he motions towards a curtained-off section and hands me a dressing gown to change into.

I carefully take off my dress and fold it; I place my heels on top and put on the light blue medical gown. Two more nurses come in and smile politely; one goes to pick up my old clothes, and I stop him.

"Hey! I want these in pristine condition when I come back from the games, okay?" I say in jest. The nurse laughs, and I chuckle, but it's not a joke. I'm coming back.

The other nurse tells me to lie down, and it begins. They unbraid and wash my hair; they scrub my body with disinfectant and then floral-smelling soap. I decided somewhere in between the hairwashing and the eyebrow waxing that I might as well enjoy this. The only difference between this and a weekend at a spa is my mindset. Well, that and imminent doom. Still, I've never been to a spa, so this is a luxury.

I try talking to the nurses, but all I can get out of them are their names, Jolly and Jorde. I joke that they could form a trio with Jinx, but they only snicker. They debate for a while whether my leg hair is long enough to wax and decide it is. I tell them if I had known I would be sentenced to death, I would have shaved, and they burst out laughing but quickly regain their composure when a supervisor glares at them.

I get another rinse after they finish waxing that numbs the pain, and I'm grateful. The nurse with long lashes and spikey hair returns and leans over my table to tell me that I will be transferred to meet my team and hands me dark teal pajamas.

I pull them on, and they fit loosely, making them relatively comfortable, but my spa time is over. I need to be innovative and calculated now.

Gillian appears from the opposite side of the room, and I realize that for the forty minutes of blissful spa time, I had forgotten he existed. He's also wearing matching District 4 colored pajamas, and I hold back a giggle because his pants are too short. He looks uncomfortable and violated; he must not have been as zen about his cleanup.

Jinx comes out of the elevator and gasps as if looking at gold. "You two look wonderful!"

My hair is wavy and almost curly by nature, so I'm sure I look like a rag doll by now, but I accept the compliment with a smile. We follow him into the elevator, and he presses the fourth button. Gill stays away from me this time, and I'm grateful for whatever the nurses did to him.

The elevator doors slide open, revealing a vast, metallic chamber littered with men's and women's costumes on lifeless mannequins. Each garment is District 4 themed, covered with fishnets and scales aplenty. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, mindful of unseen observers. We linger outside the elevator, a sense of anticipation hanging in the air, until two figures emerge from opposite ends of the room. They must be the stylists, and their sudden presence brings a new level of realization that none of this is fictional. We really are tributes.

The one on the right bows deeply and asks, "May I have Miss Cane follow me?" And I curtsey and follow, and we share a giggle. The other stylist simply waves Gill in his direction with two fingers.

As I glance back, Gill looks at me with the strangest look of envy and pleading. As if he wishes he could beg to come with me but hates me for getting better treatment. In actuality, it's extremely in character for Gill; when we were dating, it was always about what he wanted, and he always got what he wanted, up until that one thing and up until now.