Star Crossed Killers

6: The Parade

Peeta and I are led to a stylish, black vehicle that drives us to what Effie calls the "Remake Center," where I will be made TV ready an dressed up for the opening ceremonies. I wonder what that means. Then I find out and wish I could go back to wondering.

They are ripping off my skin. I'm with my prep team, where they have decided that any and all body hair is a crime against humanity. I've been scrubbed and practically hosed down, my nails have been trimmed into uniform ovals, and now my body hair is being tear-jerkingly torn from my skin. 

"Sorry!" Venia, a thin and angular woman with aquamarine hair and golden tattoos, pipes in her silly Capitol accent as she yanks something called a waxing strip from my leg, "You're just so hairy!" And you look like a tropical bird, I think to myself.

She also talks like one. The squawking, high pitched accents of the Capital are almost laughable. They always go up at the end of the sentence, as if asking a question. I'm not surprised, based on how clueless they are.

It's been three hours and I still haven't met my stylist. I don't care to meet him, but I do want to see Peeta again, as it's also been three hours since we were separated so we could be prepped for the audience. I wonder if they are tearing off his leg hair, or if the boys get to keep it.

"You're doing very well," says another member of my gumdrop colored team named Flavius. He shakes his orange corkscrew curls and applies a fresh coat of purple lipstick to his mouth. He puckers his lips and gives a little pop before saying, "If there's one thing we can't stand, it's a whiner. Grease her down!"

I'm only doing "so well" because I have been grinding my teeth since I got the first hose down. I don't even really care to keep my promise to Haymitch about not objecting to anything, but I feel like I also promised by obedience to Peeta, and I don't want either of our chances to get hurt because I couldn't hold my tongue.

Venia and Octavia, a plump woman whose entire body has been dyed a pale shade of pea green, lather on a minty smelling cream that soothes my raw skin. I'm forced to get naked again and stand in front of them while they pluck the last bits of hair off my body. Octavia doesn't have eyebrows, and I'm grateful that at least mine are still intact.

I know I should be embarrassed, stark naked in front of three strangers, but I barely consider the trio in front of me to be people, so I let them do their thing. Although it is a bit ironic that the bird like Venia is plucking me like a wild turkey.

When the trio finishes, they all step back and cock their heads to admire their work.

"Excellent! You almost look like a human being now!" says Flavius, and they all laugh. I want to laugh too. It's quite hilarious to think that I was the one struggling to look human. They're vapid enough to believe the insincere smile I give.

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

My false humility wins me their favor completely. "Of course, you don't, you poor darling!" says Octavia, pouting her puffy lips in sympathy.

"But don't worry," says Venia. "By the time Cinna is through with you, you're going to be absolutely gorgeous!" By gorgeous I'm almost positive they mean ridiculous.

"We promise! You know, now that we've gotten rid of all the hair and filth, you're not horrible at all!" says Flavius encouragingly. I smile almost genuinely at that. They may be ditzy, but they seem sincere.

"Let's call Cinna!" Octavia says giddily. They scamper out of the room like birds flitting around on a tree limb. I sigh and run my fingers through my hair once they are gone.

I wonder if Peeta has met his stylist yet. I heard Flavius mention the name Portia at one point when they were gushing over Cinna, so I'm assuming she's the other District 12 stylist.