Panem's Next Top Model

Chapter 7: Day 1

It has been 3 days since we arrived. The competition starts TODAY at 11am. I am pacing around in my room, my nerves a jumbled mess. It's 6 am. I couldn't sleep all night and the last thing I want is to head to the gym now but I know Hayloft will be here within an hour shouting at me.

I really should do some coke for energy.

I try to fall asleep. Something is better than nothing. But just as it has done without fail upon finding a spare nanosecond, my mind wanders back to the brush of a black suit sleeved hand on my lower waist.

The body needs rest.
The mind sets it on fire.

Two days ago, while coming back to my room from the gym, I had to share the lift alone with one of the judges of PNTM, Rashad Aaziz.

No biggie, I had thought. But around him, that huge lift, capable of holding up to 15 people, as the sign inside it read, suddenly seemed to narrow down.

Maybe it was the girth of his body and his broad shoulders. Maybe he just triggered claustrophobia in me. Maybe he wasn't human but instead, a demon who could fuck with people's minds and get some sick pleasure from it. But either way, the big lift, narrowed down.

My room was on the 6th floor. Not a long ride. But my heart hammered against my chest as the time stretched an eternity.

Maybe he can fuck with the concept of time in people's minds too.

When the lift doors finally opened and I was about to step out thinking I could finally breathe well, he placed a careless hand on my lower waist, as if nudging me forward, and got off with me, walking away in the opposite direction as to which I was supposed to go.

It was so disrespectful. Once again, he'd treated me like I didn't exist. I understand that he's a judge and me a tribute but that doesn't mean he can just...do that.

I mean, he was acting like my existence was wasting his precious time. Nudging me forward gently in action, but actually meaning to shove me away. As if he found it disgusting that someone like me could get off of a lift before letting him get off.

That man was too young to be judge anyway.  What is he doing here???!! I ask myself. But truth is, I know.

He's the owner of this hotel and two clubs in the Capitol. He graduated from Clarvard last year, the top University in all of Panem's history. He has a degree in psychology and human behavior, speaks English, Arabic, Russian, Spanish and French, and makes more than a million every month. No one even uses or learns those languages anymore except in certain posh parts of the districts and in the Capitol. His ancestors are from a place that used to be called the Middle East.

And I was right. He's only 23.

I didn't dare look at this possibly inhuman creature's face so I couldn't tell about that, but rest assured, standing 6'5", he has a positively maddening body, and cloud-like hair and veiny hands and pretty fingers that made me think bad things (since I didn't know where to look in the lift, I had stared at his hands. They were prettier than Panku's).

Truth was, he stole my breath. But he would quite literally take away my breath if I didn't work hard enough to stay in the show because being a judge, he had all the power to kick me out. And since I was here, I might as well fight.

I wanted to shout at him for touching me like that but decided I needed to be on his good side. After all, I can't get into any trouble whatsoever with judges.

I fall into half an hour of a dreamless sleep before Hayloft knocks at my door.

"Get lost!!" I open the door, still asleep and shout. As I am about to shut the door, Hayloft holds it open.

For the first time, I open my eyes. Hayloft has ditched his usual fashion of T-shirts and is wearing a....suit?

Black suit.
Cold brown eyes.

It's Rashad Aaziz. Next to him stands a battered looking Panku in a different combination of shorts and tank top but the same Abibas Crocs. He looks like a guilty child standing behind an angry father.

My eyes widen and before I'm about to blurt out whatever apologies come to my mind he says, "Katooshka Sagegreen, you are to appear at the show venue within 20 minutes with Mr. Mallarkey Knob. A car will be waiting for you two in front of the hotel. All other contestants are already present at the venue," he stops, as if mustering the threat behind his next words. "20 minutes. Sharp. Your clothes." He hands me a basket with clothes in it probably left by Sinna.

I look at the clock after he leaves. It's 10:50 am.

Oh god. Day 1 of the contest and I have already made a HORRIBLE impression on the new judge by OVERSLEEPING of all things. FUCK.

I get dressed in the white body hugging top and pants that Sinna gave me. There's nothing I can do anymore about my hair and makeup. I'm sure all the other tributes' mentors hadn't forgotten about them. Maybe Hayloft finally overdosed.

Too bad. Was growing to sorta like him.

I do as best as I can to make myself look presentable and head downstairs. Panku arrives right after I do and we head towards the venue.

I had just been making up for lost sleep but I wonder what Panku was doing. Maybe he didn't get in touch with neither Hayloft nor me because since he knew he couldn't win, he didn't want me to win either and wanted me to also create a bad impression on the judges. I don't bother to ask this sore loser.

Honestly though, who am I kidding? His Pankuass has biceps now. Though I wonder what can be done about his face. I honestly hope Hayloft isn't dead.

We queue up with among the already standing crowd in front of the panel of judges. Their gaze follow both me and Panku as we stand in our respective places. Among all the gazes, Rashad's seems to pierce more. God knows what he was doing getting us here. He's too important to be involved in petty things like waking late tributes up from sleep.

He was surely gonna have me eliminated.

Their are three judges. Jenny Banks, a current superstar in Panem, Erik Gaultier, Panem renowned fashion designer, and Rashad Aaziz, owner of the most famous hangout places of Panem's elite.

Our first task: maid outfit broom photoshoot.