Through the Eyes. (The Hunger Games fanfiction)

Chapter 2

As the train pulls up to the capital walls the next morning, I feel my stomach twist. I know these peoples reactions will be different from the hate I got back at home, but I'm still scared about some of the other tributes. I know that careers are supposed to be strong and courageous, but the other tributes hate us, and I don't like that.

I hold tightly to the necklace my dad gave me, which is now wrapped around my neck. Asher stands against the wall next to me, looking out the window.

"Nice hair." He says, looking at my hair, which is hanging naturally down my back.

"Shut up." I say harshly and watch as the doors of the train open and crowds of people cheer as I walk through. Trachea and Omar are in front, and Asher is by my side. Cameras flash, but nobody dares to get into my face. They probably all saw what happened yesterday.

We reach the tall building that's standing in front of us, and walk in. Three ladies rush up to me and I step back, trying to keep my personal space.

"Hello Ariston! I'm Paisa, this is Jameese, and this is Onus. We're your stylists!" One woman with green hair says. I raise my eyebrows and smile to myself, laughing at their outfits. They all look like a rainbow threw up on them. Asher looks over and chuckles to himself, so I shoot him a death glare.

"Come with us honey, we'll get this all fixed up." Paisa says, motioning to my whole body. I feel offended, but I know I'm not the type of girl that likes to look pretty.

The three of them lead me into a large room, where I see every tribute laying on glowing beds, being treated by three stylists each.

"Okay dear, sit here and we'll get you treated." Onus says and I sit on a swivel chair and they twist me quickly away from the mirror, to where I can't see what they're doing.

They start on my eyebrows, by sticking a strip of warm tape over them then ripping it off fast. I give of a loud yell, which turns some heads of some of the boys, but the girls are having the same thing done to them.

Once that's done, and my forehead stings, they do the same thing to my top lip and place a strip of paper over my nose. They say it will help with the shape, but I don't see how.

I feel them put a tan lotion over my face and rub it in, and I feel my skin get softer. They put a powdery substance on my cheeks, then put a pair of fake eyelashes over my real ones. They take a brush and yank through my hair, debating with each other on what to do with it. Finally, they decide to thicken it up a bit, and give me some more blonde highlights, since I already have natural ones.

Then they put in a hairspray that will give me natural and loose curls. They leave my hair the length it is, besides trimming the dead and split ends. Then they move to my body, where they rip off every piece of hair I have beside on my head. My legs and arms hurt the worst, though they are really smooth.

Finally, they give me a robe and send me into a private room, where they tell me to wait for my head stylist.

After about half an hour, a man with light skin walks in and sits in the chair across from me.

"Hello Ariston, I'm Ronal and I'll be your stylist. I see my assistants did a good job on you." He says, looking me up and down. He has a deep voice, and his hair is blue, with pink tips. He looks worse than anyone else I've seen.

"So are you going to torture me too?" I ask him.

"Oh no dear, you'll have enough time for that during the arena." He says and laughs, waiting for my reaction to his joke. I don't find it funny.

"Anyways," He says after seeing my blank face. "your from district two, which is masonry. Im supposed to dress you to represent your district for the parade tonight. So I was thinking that you would wear a silver or metal looking dress, with a nice head piece and your district partner will match appropriately." He says as he shows me his sketches. I have to admit, the dress I'm supposed to wear is gorgeous. It has a silver and sparkly top, which is laced with floral patters. The flowers begin to space out, then it turns into silver lacing, expanding slightly.