Deceived: The 500th Annual Hunger Games

Chapter 6 - The Capitol

POMELINE CROPPER'S P.O.V

I edged my way off of the train to see the Capitol. People were screaming the tributes names in unison, their colourful wigs bouncing as they jump up an down at the sight of us.

People were screaming my name even though they couldn't wait to watch me die...how charming.

All I could see was long stretches of rainbow coloured faces. Sickened, I tried to ignore their screams. You all look like clowns.

However, it was impossible to block out the defeating roar of the crowd. I felt Jaymes grip my shoulder. I felt kind of reassured that someone had noticed my disgust for this crowd.

People's hands thrust towards me, trying to touch any tribute that walks their way. Don't touch me.

The buildings here are huge! Layers of colourful bricks and slate tiles everywhere. Everywhere in District 5 is the grey and ugly. Even though the people here look appalling, I can't help but admire the architecture here.

"Jaymes," I whispered, "how you liking the Capitol?"

"I hate it. They're dressing us up like a dog's dinner just to watch our slow and painful deaths," Jaymes replied in a bitter tone.

I don't know. People were screaming for my autograph, my picture. Couldn't they see I have no hope in hell of coming home?

My legs became stiff. I could see the Remake centre up ahead, rising from the ground every step I take. Slowly but surely, the 24 tributes made our way to the Remake centre.

At least we aren't smothered by Capitol citizens inside the buildings. We'll get our own rooms, our entire apartment shared by the tributes from our District, the mentors and escorts and one or two stylists. The Avoxes that get told to slave over our bodies before our certain deaths come in here and do errands but they don't stay all night.

The tributes suddenly stopped after our short walk. The Remake Centre. A bunch of Peacekeepers violently grabbed my wrists and dragged me towards an underground area in the Remake Centre.

"Hey!" I yelled, "I can walk by myself."

The Peacekeeper didn't let go of my wrist. Annoyed, I let him drag me to the building I was being forced into.

I don't think dragging me is the way to treat a Tribute, is it now?


YARROW FAIRBAIN'S P.O.V

After the Peacekeeper finally let go of me, I rubbed my skin. It had turned red and sore. Frustrated, I dragged myself to the bed where the ridiculous looking stylist people were waiting for my arrival.

I tuned out after they briefly mentioned waxing and plucking every inch of my body. Embarrassed, I lay on the hospital-like bed stark naked. I gripped the edge of the bed, using every ounce of restraint I had not to scream my head off as they ripped the first lot of hair from my sore leg.

Only us girls have this pain. Boys get to keep their hair. Girls have it ripped from their legs, arms, armpits, body and eyebrows. I'm not even that hairy - especially for a kid with dark hair - but they insisted on pulling away my hair. It felt like they were peeling my skin off too.

Once my legs being relieved of any hair and nerves, they moved onto my eyebrows. I bet you they're going to make my eyebrows look like slugs. Or maybe they'll be so thin they're barely visible. Either way, by the looks from these Capitol freaks, it'll not be pretty.

After endless screams muffled by the pillow beside me, my body was finally hairless. The amount of times I had been pinched by tweezers was a bigger number than the amount of citizens waiting at the train station earlier. I even bled at one point.

I was covered in a really soothing lotion that stopped my raw skin from itching. It smelt of mint leaves - a nice reminder of home to me.

When Keelan and I would go to the forest, we would pick mint leaves. Sometimes we'd have to steal them from other townsfolk.

Our lives as thieves isn't easy. At the age of 8, we both set off to steal. We aren't just your average criminals - this kind of behaviour in Districts 8 to 12 is perfectly normal. We steal and sell our good for money to help pay bills. We got so desperate and super sneaky, we started targeting bigger areas like museums. We only got caught because of something we didn't know about.

The man we were going to sell to had left District 9 and moved to District 6 to become the head of wheat transportation between us and the Capitol. The man who had moved in happened to be a new Peacekeeper starting his job that day. We were caught.

I knew they wouldn't let a bunch of thieves win the games. Why do they strip girls of all body hair if they know they're about to die anyway?


CHESTER LITTLETON'S P.O.V

My stylist, Crimson, told my to pull on my robe. The other stylist have no shame in nudity, however, normal Panem citizens have dignity and would rather be seen with their clothes on.

"Chester," Crimson said, "this year all tributes have their own chariots and stuff in the minigame parades. This means you'll be on your own in the parade." I sighed with relief - I hate all the other tributes from my district.

"Everyone will wear similar outfits, but because of difference within every individual we're splitting the Tributes up. I'm fed up of sparkling diamonds and glitter every year. We need to make it different this year. Special something to remember," Crimson added.

I couldn't agree more. Every girl wears diamonds. All the boys wear white tuxedos and everyone gets covered in irritating glitter.

Crimson pulled out a tuxedo and I feared the idea of glitter and humiliation.

I gasped. The suit was studded with rubies at the top. Going down there was amber, topaz, emerald, diamond, sapphires and finishing with amethyst. The refraction was beautiful. The walls filled with rainbow coloured lights. Not only did I love it, but the Capitol will die for it. I wonder how much it cost to get all these jewels...District 1 isn't exactly a poor place.

"It took 3 days to make," Crimson exclaimed, "I had been working on this for 5 years; today I realised you were the only one who could wear this and still look amazing. You have high authority, being the Mayor's son. We need you to be remembered."

What did he mean? Was he indicating I was going to die? Not on my watch. I have a District to run, my father wants to step down from his role soon: if I die, who's going to step in? A stranger? No. My District has been run by my family since the 389th games. I am not dying anytime soon.

"It looks like it's time to meet your fellow tributes. Make them jealous," Crimson finally said after a few minutes of silence. I nodded and shook his hand.

"See you after the parade?" I asked. I'd feel more relaxed if I had someone to talk to after. He nodded and I smiled.

This is going to be a big moment. Sponsors will be watching me, judging me, wondering whether I am worth their money. I know this suit will help but...

"What should I do?" I asked. "Smile? Wave? Or just be plain rude?"

Crimson patted my shoulder gently, minding not to put fingerprints on the rubies on my shoulders. "Do what you think is right. You aren't the first tribute going out, so try and see how the crowd react to your fellow 'friends' and go from there. All I can say is show your pride for your District. You weren't a volunteer. If you show a sense of pride, that'll help your chance of gaining sponsors."

I smiled gratefully. "Thanks. Let's hope Septimus doesn't find out this idea of not volunteering and showing pride. He'll abuse it. The Capitol barely listen to a word from Phillipe Honeyman. Well, unless he's talking about the death of an innocent child."

Crimson understood what I meant but glanced at his watch. "C'mon, you should get going."

I made my way to the horses and patted my horse. Pearl white. Absolutely beautiful.

People began to stand on their chariots. I took my place, took a big breath and showed my pride for District 1.