Defenders of Panem (Being Rewritten)

Chapter 15: The Capitol

Jem's POV

I slowly wake up to a soft knocking against the door. My eyes open, taking in unfamiliar surroundings. Wait! Where am I? This isn't my room and this definitely isn't my house! I continue looking around when an uncomfortable weight settles over me. I'm on the train taking me to the Capitol. To the games. I had hoped this was one terrible dream, but no one's that lucky.

There's a knock on the door again, and a yawn rips from me. I rub my eyes as I allow the person to enter. Lila Teal enters through my door. "Jem, we're pulling into the station. It's time to go and meet your stylist before opening ceremonies." She quickly leaves after delivering her message, shutting the door behind her. When she's out of sight, I let out a groan. I can't help it, but I don't want to be here. Stupid Capitol! I want to be back in District Four with Dath, and maybe Meg at the lighthouse.

A weird feeling drifts over me. I'm in enemy territory now, and they know why I am. What I am. This won't be good... they brought me here to kill me. To kill my team.

I throw the covers off my legs, and pull myself from the comfortable bed. I take a pair of clean clothes from the dresser. A basic pair of leggings and a simple t-shirt in a beautiful seafoam green color. I quickly change, and walk out to the main car. That's when I hear it. The applause and cheers. I peer out the large window, and see thousands of people. Capitol citizens clapping and cheering, all hoping to get a glance at this year's tributes. Jace, my District partner, eventually comes to stand beside me.

"Whoa..." A small smile graces his face as he takes a step closer to the window. He gives a small wave to the crowd, and I swear the cheers increase. Lila eventually comes in to usher us out the back car that takes us to a private area of the station away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

First thing I notice are all the different rooms, 22 in all with District numbers and assigned genders above the doorways. I am not ready for this, and with all the sand that has been ground into my skin and hair over the years... this will not be fun. Unfortunately for me, I don't have much time to ponder the upcoming pain when Lila pushes me into my assigned room. Let the fun begin.

It takes them FOUR hours... four excruciating and painful hours to get me ready to meet my stylist. Hours of being plucked, waxed, bathed (twice), oiled up and scented. I feel like I've lost multiple layers of skin when they attempted to rid sand from my body, not to mention when they were ripping hair out of everywhere.

I'm currently lying on a lit table in a thin robe to cover my raw skin waiting for my stylist. Barty Newman. I think I've been lying here for at least 20 minutes before the door finally opens and I sit up, letting my legs hang over the edge of the table. He walks in, and it takes every ounce of training I've received to not cringe at the sight of him.

He has a bright fuchsia hair dye with lime green contacts, thick black eyeliner tracing his squinty eyes, and has dyed his skin a light blue. He wears a simple back shirt, pants and shined shoes. I just stare. I'm completely speechless at his freakish appearance.

"Hello, I am your stylist, Barty Newman." He looks me up and down. "You're not very big are you? How tall are you? 5'1?" I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the insult. I'm at least 5'4! "Well, I guess you're pretty enough, but you'd never be as fabulous as me!" He says gesturing to himself with a big swoop of his hand. I would probably laugh, if not for the serious look on his altered face. I just met this guy, and I can say he's more self-centered than Dath. Ugh. This is going to be a long week.

Opening Ceremonies

I'm standing on the back of the chariot, in my tribute outfit, trying not to cringe. My curls are straightened and are pulled to fall over my right shoulder with a crown of pearls adorning my head. I hate that Barty straightened my hair, it better not ruin my curls. The rest of my outfit is as dumb as my hair. I have salmon-colored seashells strapped together with leather across my chest with a fishnet skirt that is cut on an angle making the left side shorter than the right. I have so much skin showing, and it makes me uncomfortable. I'm never this exposed unless I'm in my swimsuit when I'm with Dath, but it's not like I walk around the entirety of the District like that!