Little Flower-The Hunger Games from Rue's Point of View

Chapter 11

The first thing that comes to my mind when I hear this is: "Wait- where does mentally impaired Effie with her pearl trinkets come in?" But then I remember- Tarragon, Tarragon of the purple hair, Tarragon of the fruit headresses, Tarragon of the "hair that sticks out two feet looks nice", Tarragon of the my stylist.. is gone. I know that I should feel bad for him, but I just can't say that I'll miss having pineapples sewn into my dress. Though I'll probably have to worry about hair relaxer bottles glued onto my shawl.

I leave the table and scamper down to the elevator, using my stealth techniques to avoid Aurelia. I'm planning on finding a cardigan to slip over my bedazzled top.

"Rue!!" Aurelia trots over to me. "So... I was having a lovely, though somewhat brief, discussion with your new stylist and we've both decided that you need to... well, step up your game!" She puts air quotes around the last part. "I mean, I don't want to sound... pushy... but statistics are in and you have a total of zero sponsors. Well, you actually did have one, but then his friend apparently called him to tell him that if he sponsored you, he would personally wreck his birthday bash, so he took his name off the list. "

"Oh." 

"And with those Twelve kids being pearls and such..."

"What?" She smiles at me and shakes her head like I'm stupid.

"You're just going to have to be an ruby. Or possibly a sapphire. Sardinia!! Does red or blue look better on this girl?" Sardinia emerges from a polished door, with an eyelash curler in hand.

"Neither," she says dryly. "But red is ok, I suppose." She thrusts a sequined crimson handbag into my hand. "Take this. As an accessory." I nod, and scamper away, fearful that she'll give me something else to carry.

I'm not really sure what I should work on once I get to the training center. I obviously have several skills that I need to work on, but I don't think one day of training will make me be able to even lift a spear. So I settle for just going to the camouflage station. I set down my purse and get to work.

I knew that I'm a bad painter before this, but I never thought I was this terrible. It's only thirty minutes into the lesson, and I'm already covered sloppily in blue and green paint, looking like a blueberry bush that's been melted down. I actually was supposed to be a blueberry bush, but now I'm thinking that I look more like the fictional monster that the children in Eleven say haunt the orchards.

I excuse myself to wash off at least part of the paint. I doubt that I'll be able to get all of it off in the Capitol sinks. But it'll be a start. And a good excuse to use the sinks - running water is a lot more interesting than I thought it would be. I wonder they're able to have this type of technology in Three. They're not one of the richest districts, but they're all inventors. They might be able to figure out how to make something like this. Maybe the victor of these Games will have access to luxuries like these. Or maybe they'll simply be a glorified version of any of us district commoners , put up on a pedastal by the Capitol, but still nowhere near their level. 

The rest of the training session isn't as disatrous. It's clear that weaponry isn't my thing, but I almost fit in with the other tributes in the other stations. And I actually excel in the slingshot station. In Eleven, knowing how to use a slingshot is pretty much mandatory. But I guess it's not as important in the other districts - I'm the best in my group. Which is good to know. I'll need something relatively impressing to show to the gamemakers who will give me my score. If I can get a high enough score, maybe that one man can sponsor me and have his birthday bash remain un-ruined.  

I walk to the elevator. It has another girl in it, who gives me a sort of smirk as I walk in.

"Hey" she says. I look at her oddly. None of the other tributes have bothered to talk to me.

"Hi."

"Lokia. District Five." 

"I'm Rue from Eleven." 

"Yeah. You did pretty well with the slingshot today. You're sorta puny but that thing looked pretty deadly."

"Thanks...You were good with..." I trail off awkwardly. I don't really remember seeing this girl. I frantically rush to think of an activity that almost everyone did.

The elevator makes a dinging noise.

"I've gotta get off." she says, and, grasping the emergency handle, swings out the door. 

When I get back to the room, there's a note on the door. I lean closer to read it.

Rue-

Thresh and Arcto weasled their way into getting some extra training hours. They won't be back until 17:00 AMT. I myself have an eyeliner convention that I have been yearning to be a part of. I believe this is a lovely chance for me to attend. Sardinia, Julia, Julius and Tarragon (Though he has been demoted from his position of stylist, I have allowed him to stay on your prep team) have asked to come along, and I consented. I'm afraid that this means you'll be on your own for supper. You will find food in your room. 

XOXOXO

Aurelia Staria

Great. I guess I'm on my own for dinner. I briefly wonder what the symbols above Aurelia's name mean. If I tilt my head sideways they look like dead people's faces. Like my face will look when I am dead. I wonder if that was Aurelia's purpose. Maybe she's making fun of me. It's not unlikely. It's not like she won't be sitting in front of her massive television screen, eating popcorn and waiting for me to die within a matter of days. 

Days.

And it's then that I realize why I've been so sarcastic and dryly humourous over the past few days.

I'm scared.

Scared to death. 

Author's Note: So how did you like this chapter? :) I think this one wins the award for Most Edited... especially Lokia's scene. :) Did I do an okay job with that part? btw, thank you so much to TheNamelessWriter for helping me edit foxface's (Lokia's) scene! She was way too nice before. :)

And now for the deadline... how about the 15th? 

See you guys later! :D Thanks for reading!