Flicker of Hope|HUNGER GAMES

PARADE

I had to give my eyes a moment to adjust to the sunlight and all of the bright colors, and people were cheering and applauding as Vesta pushed us down the path. No one reached out to touch us as they did with their careers, and if one of the tributes came too close to them they recoiled in disgust. I might be their piece of entertainment for the next couple of weeks, but that didn't mean I wasn't from one of the lowest districts.

No one told me about the beautifying process before the parade. I wish they had.

I gritted my teeth and bit the side of my cheek as the team plucked, waxed, and ripped every hair off of my body and then scrubbed at least four layers of skin off.

My team kept shooting me looks of sympathy every time I winced, although the looks weren't very comforting.

"Good news, though. This is the last one. Ready?"

I get a grip on the edges of the table I'm seated on and nod. The final swathe of my leg hair is uprooted in a painful jerk. I've been in the Remake Center for more than three hours and I still haven't met my stylist. Apparently he has no interest in seeing me until my prep team have addressed some obvious problems.

This has included scrubbing down my body with a gritty loam that has removed not only dirt but my legs, arms, torso, underarms, and parts of my eyebrows have been stripped of the Muff, leaving me like a plucked bird, ready for roasting. I don't like it. My skin feels sore and tingling and intensely vulnerable

"Grease her down!" I'm about to object when they rub me down with a lotion that first stings but then soothes my raw skin. Then they pull me from the table, removing the thin robe I've been allowed to wear off and on. I stand there, completely naked, as the three circle me, wielding tweezers to remove any last bits of hair. I know I should be embarrassed, but they're so unlike people that I'm no more self-conscious than if a trio of oddly colored birds were pecking around my feet.

The three step back and admire their work. "Excellent! You almost look like a human being now!" says Apollo, and they all laugh. I force my lips up into a smile to show how grateful I am.

"Thank you," I say sweetly. "We don't have much cause to look nice in District 5."

This wins them over completely. "Of course, you don't, you poor darling!" says Leto clasping her hands together in distress for me.

"But don't worry," says Athena. "By the time Maximus is through with you, you're going to be absolutely gorgeous!"

"We promise! You know, now that we've gotten rid of all the hair and filth, you're not horrible at all!" says Apollo encouragingly.

"Let's call Maximus!" They dart out of the room. It's hard to hate my prep team. They're such total idiots. And yet, in an odd way, I know they're sincerely trying to help me.

I wasn't excited to meet my stylist. Most of the stylists had been around for years, and they had very recognizable styles. District 7 was always dressed as trees, District 10 as some animal, all while 12 was usually in some skimpy outfit because it was hard to make a person from the Coal District appealing without those outfits. Other stylists preferred nudity, and I would rather die than dress up in one of those outfits.

"You look worried." A male voice says from behind me.

I whip around. I found a man in a velvet suit with a print shirt under it (which looked too busy in my opinion but I wasn't going to say that to a stylist) and hair cropped short. His eyes looked me up and down. Suddenly I'm embarrassed because I'm wearing any. He wasn't like the prep team. He looks somewhat human and normal.

"I don't want to be paraded naked." I say, hoping he will tell me to put my robe on.

He smiles. "You don't have to worry about that. I've always found that trend inelegant, and that's something I want to avoid."