Garden of Eden

Chapter 4

Three hours. Three hours or near enough to make no matter; that's how long I've been suck in this Remake Centre, having teeth whitened and hair removed from every inch of my body, save the essential places. And that was after I'd been scrubbed down in strong smelling foam and my nails were filed into shape. Three bizarre people, as eccentric as the crowd gathered for the tribute train, hover around trying to make me look somewhat presentable, under the watchful eye of Alex. As a stylist, Alex is charged with ensuring we arrive at the opening ceremonies reflecting the principle industry of District 12: coal mining.

Aminta, a woman with short spiky hot pink hair and purple nails half as long as her fingers, brushes my hair with unnecessary force. I resist the urge to wince in pain as she talks animatedly with Alexis, who runs slender fingers gently over my skin, applying lotion that alleviates the agony that comes from having hair painfully waxed off. My red skin soon turns pinkish as Alexis dutifully continues applying more cream, her wavy green fringe constantly falling across dark red eyes. A man who introduced himself as Aiakos gives my nails a coat of clear paint that causes them to shine brightly. Upon meeting my prep team and stylist, Aiakos was the first to draw my eyes, with metallic silver hair that falls to his waist and dark blue tattoos that cover half his face. Aiakos quietly consults Alex every so often while the women gossip mindlessly. They attempted getting me to talk but it wasn't until only half an hour ago that they stopped, having given up and grown tired of my short, curt responses. They don't seem to like me much after that. It doesn't bother me. It's hard to care when you're forced to stand naked in front of strangers with only a few short moments of reprieve of wearing a thin robe.

Once Alex is satisfied with what he sees, he dismisses my prep team and tells me to put my robe on. I comply and follow him into a sitting room furnished with two armchairs and a low table. The room has three walls. The fourth is completely glass from ceiling to floor; creating a window to the city. Outside, the sun heads towards noon and the orange light reflects off the crystal buildings that form the Capitol. We take a seat and Alex pushes a button on the side of the table. The moment he does, the table surface splits open to reveal a second laden with our lunch as it rises and assumes the place of the previous top. The sight of crepes with strawberries and cream, salmon cream cheese sandwiches, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, buttermilk scones, and blueberry muffins fills me with anger rather than wonderment. Here food is accessed with just a simple push of a button while districts like 12 are either starving or barely scraping by.

Alex must have seen my thoughts reflected in my expression. "Is something the matter, Maysilee?" I try my hands on a sandwich and notice his eyes on me. One is black and the other green. His navy blue hair is tied in a ponytail and his skin is covered in a layer of pink glitter.

"No, not at all," I say, taking a bite of the sandwich to reassure him.

"That's a relief. So tell me, Maysilee, you're from District 12, aren't you?"

I nod once. "Uh-huh."

"How do you feel about wearing a hard hat with a lamp on it?" Alex asks so hopefully I try not to show my displeasure. Being from the mining district, every year District 12 tributes always end up in coal miner outfits. The stylists are hardly to blame. The mining district scarcely has anything to work with. Not compared to District 1 which creates luxury items for the Capitol, or District 3's industry of electronics, District 4 and fishing, and District 8 with their textiles.

I'm dressed in a skimpy overall that stops mid thigh and a low cut white singlet that leaves little to the imagination within a few hours. My hair is intricately braided and falls over my right shoulder. A yellow hard hat, with a headlamp strapped to the front of it, sits up top my head. Wearing short boots that add several inches to a person's height, I struggle desperately not to stumble. My only solace is that they allow me to wear the family pin. Alexis unevenly coated me in black powder and something shiny. To give the illusion of coal dust, grime, and sweat she explained cheerfully. So what was the point of washing and scrubbing my body for an hour and a half? I think bitterly. I was already covered in grime and coal dust before you achingly flayed several layers off my skin. Scowling, I'm forced to wait for the other District 12 tributes to arrive. Evelyn is the first. She dresses similarly to me. Only her overall ends just above the knee, she wears a white shirt, her hair is down, and her shoes aren't pointed and look comfortable - judging from the easy way she runs around in them. Adam and Haymitch arrive soon after, garbed in similar outfits. Like us they are clad in a minor's hat, fingerless gloves, and overalls; only theirs is full lengthened. They wear sturdy practical boots. Haymitch has a white singlet under his overalls whereas Adam wears nothing at all. His ripped muscles accentuated by the products his prep team applied on his body. They're accompanied by their stylists, each more flamboyant than the last.