The Hunger Games

Chapter Five

EDELMIRA'S POV
I stared wide eyed into the mirror.
"Samana," I whisper, breathless.
The dress that my stylist, Samana had picked out for me was a rich gold color and looked delicate as gossamer. The sleeves hung at my wrists and the back of the dress was a few inches longer then the front. "Here," Samana handed me a flower crown made up of small flowers the same color as my dress.
"I figured the gold, would resemble the  wheat crops of District 11," She said as I  placed the flower crown on my head.
"Stunning!" Samana's assistant,
Gerten, Hayden's stylist exclaimed as he walked in. "Spin." Samana ordered.
I nodded and spun around in a circle, the dress fanning out around my waist.
"Stop," She says. I stop and stand still for a moment, slightly dizzy. "It looks beautiful, Edelmira." Samana says. I catch a hint of pride in her tone, but her expression is happy. "The flower crown really was a nice touch Samana." Gerten says. "Shall I get Hayden?" "Yes. Let me add a few finishing touches." Samana replies as Gerten walks out of the room. She grabs some thing made of metal and plugs the cord into an electric socket. "Curling iron," She answers to my questioning look. She moves closer to me and pushes down on a handle, opening what to me, looks like the curly iron's mouth. I don't think that's what it's called. Oh well. She clamps it down on a strand of my hair. I flinch at the heat wafting from the iron. "Why is so hot?" I ask, as she twists the piece of hair and holds it there. "The heat is what makes the hair curl," Samana explains. "Oh." The moment she finishes, Hayden enters the room. He's wearing a similar get up, minus the elegant dress and flower crown. What I'm saying, is he's wearing the same color, but in a more man-ish way.  Before I know it, we're being ushered by out mentor, Camason, Samana and Gerten. Camason gestures to the chariot. I let Hayden pass in front of me, and he sits down. I slide in after him, sitting on the edge, rubbing the ring my mother gave me nervously. "There's nothing to worry about!" Samana says reassuringly. "Scoot closer," Camason orders, pushing me off the edge so that I collide with Hayden. I glare at him, but stay put. District 10 begins to role out in front of us. The two tributes look absolutely brilliant. Hoping that we look just as good, I run my hand through my brown hair, the three golden bangles jingle as I lower my wrist and let my hair fall back to my elbows. I'm still adjusting to the curls, but I think Samana knows what she's doing. The large brown horses begin to lead us out into the open. I force myself to smile and wave, jabbing Hayden in the ribcage with my free hand, indicated for him to do the same. They really think we should be happy about this, the Capitol. They think that we are truly blessed, that this is what everybody desires. I think, brushing back a stray piece of hair. I despise them. I would like to find the president and spit in his face. But I know better.
I manage to blow a few kisses, and I can almost hear Samason crying out in approval. His instructions were to act natural, like you were being honored.
I'm not sure if some people actual believe so, but in my opinion, this is not an honor. The Capitol just enjoys to remind us of the power they have. I feel my skin tingle in  excitement, the music is loud and people are calling out our names. I figure I should try to be happy while I still can. Honor or not, the way I handle this may affect me in the games. With all this attention, surely there must be someone who is willing to sponsor. I'm good with knives. Maybe there will be some at the cornucopia. Or maybe not. Then what?
I force myself to stop stressing now. Start stressing when you get there. I order. I catch a glimpse of a television that we are being broadcasted live onto. We truly do look brilliant. Just as good as District 10 does. I don't like how Samason made me sit so close to Hayden. To me, the look implies, that we need each other and are going to work together. I don't need him. I wouldn't be surprised if that's what everybody though, it's not an uncommon technique. A cool breeze passes through, sweeping back my hair.    The chariot parades around one last time. I can see the training center. So that's where I'll be staying. I feel slightly relieved as the crowd applause  and cries out our names again.
"I think they liked us," Hayden whispers as the chariot disappears from the audience's view. Our stylists and their teams begin to blab on about how great we were. I do like all the attention, but I'm starting to get sick of it.