Primrose Everdeen

Chapter 5

I wake up on the couch in District 12s floor. I don't remember walking here. Maybe I sleep walk-
"Rise and shine!" I hear a light voice yell, interrupting my thoughts, shaking me awake.
Effie strides in, wearing all baby blue (including her wig). She notices me after looking around and jumps a little.
"Primrose!" She says, clutching her chest dramatically. "You scared me. Why on earth are you on the couch?"
I shrug, quickly planting on a sweet smile. "I must've fallen asleep while watching tv here last night." But my voice wavers while saying the lie. I need to work on that; lying. If I lie, everything will be easier.
I also have to work on fake body language; fake smiling, laughing, comfortable-looking, pitiful, stuff like that.
Effie smiles and is about to reply when Peeta walks in, all dressed up in his fancy Capital clothes, his death watch (that's what I've decided to call it) blinking on his wrist.
Haymitch is right behind him, all dressed up also, looking sober enough.
I shoot up from my comfortable position, brushing off the soft blanket that was on me.
"You missed breakfast," my favorite person points out.
Anger boils in my stomach, but I look innocently over at Haymitch. "Why time is it?"
This is directed to no one, though, for I have my watch on. The main time (10:30) shows, next to it the days and minutes until my death: 6 days, 5 hours, 45 minutes.
I groan and trudge out of the room, hearing Effie call out, "get ready in 30 minutes! The parade is today and best of all, It's spa day!"

I don't know what the hell spa day is, and I don't want to figure it out.
Kids back in District 12 use to talk about how not just the people are horrible in the Capital, but the things they do for beauty. Rumors said they would strip the first layer of worn down skin, polish your body until you are satin-smooth and red, removed all the hair on your skin, dye your hair, pluck your eyebrows. Some even said that their red lipstick was made of the blood of old tributes.
All of the tributes are directed to an area of the building that is labeled "spa" on the map. When we walk in, we're confronted with a group of workers dressed in all white who hurry us into separate rooms.
The next three hours consists of meeting my prep team (four colorful people who I don't bother remembering the names of), washing, waxing, cutting, and more cleaning.
One woman with bright pink hair keeps mumbling to herself how young I am, another one with like skin tries to keep an upbeat conversation going, and the other two complain about how dirty and skinny I am. I laugh half-heatedly and sometimes reply to whatever they're saying.
By the time they're done my hair is rid of split ends, as my body is rid of all other hair, but I feel soft and clean for once. Then the prep team starts talking about some guy name Cinna, my stylist apparently. He comes into the room quietly and excuses the prep team who wave to me as they leave.
"I'm Cinna," he says, extending a slender hand. I observe his face. Clean of makeup, gold accents here and there on his face and simple outfit. He would be from Rue's district if he wasn't born in the Capitol, with his brown skin and surprisingly rough skin on his hands; a sign of hard work.
I raise my chin and shake his hand. I offer him a sweet smile, "Primrose Everdeen."
"How are you feeling today, Primrose?"
I answer automatically, "Fine, thank you."
"Really?" He says as he crosses the room to get my outfit, a small smile on his mouth.
No, i want to say. I just shake my head slowly, yes.
He looks at me, something showing on his face I can't quite identify. He then hands me a black dress.
"Coal?" I ask, not surprised. Tributes wear something that's suppose to represent their district.
"I would hate that." Katniss says, pointing to the tv. "Being naked in front of a crowd, covered in black powder? That's humiliating. The Capitol stylists are crazy". Katniss had told me this a couple years ago, when she was younger and naïve to say such things out loud, insulting the Capitol with such ease.
I banish The memory of Katniss with a frown. A sharp pain goes through my chest.
Cinna notices my frown even when I swipe it off my face quickly. His voice softens, "it sparkles in the light. You'll see, try it on."
I put it on and I stand in front of the mirror. I'm surprised by how young and pale I look against the black sparkling dress. It puffs out at my waist, making me look even younger, more pitiful. This is who I am for the games, I think, I am the pitiful one, the weakling.
I catch the look on Cinnas face again as he regards me through the mirror and recognize it. It's a deep sadness in his eyes, deeper than pity, like looking at a terrible memory. Had something like this happened to him before?

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HI! I finally update after forever. Hope you guys like it. Sorry for not writing in so long. :)