Mission: Survival

Chapter IV: Prepping and Morgan

I sit on the styling table, gripping the edge hard, while my prep team works to rid my legs and arms of hair. Thank goodness for Coach's training, or I'd be yelling "Ow!" every five seconds.

Another in a long series of painful yanks registers and my fingers dig into the table. I hear another rip farther off, and a boy howls. It's not Conner, but my head snaps toward the sound out of habit.

"Sorry," Asha pipes at me through her purple curls as she jerks more hair from my leg. To make it up to me, she quickly grabs the water tube and gently sprays my irritated skin. The boy howls again, and Zeno nods at me, stroking his enormously long, green nails almost obsessively. "At least you're not complaining," he says gratefully. "That always seems to make the process go slower. Good news, though. This is the only painful part. The rest is easy."

Hearing that complaints make the cleaning process slower further strengthens my resolve to stay quiet. Anything to speed up the waxing.

The prep team works around me a little while longer, filing and polishing my nails, combing my hair into a glossy black curtain. In the end, they are mightily pleased with their work. "Let's go get Morgan!" Zeno yelps excitedly, and the two rush away.

After a moment of silence, I become aware that I am the only one in the room. Anyone else would be trying for conversation, I guess, but I appreciate the quiet.

A few minutes later, the prep team returns with another man who I suppose is Morgan. His hair is cropped short, his nails are smoothly filed, and his clothing is simple. A bold silver eyeliner is his only decoration. For a person living in the Mainland, he looks surprisingly normal. Like he could be from home. The thought calms me.

"Hello, there," he says in a voice that is somehow rumbly and light at the same time. "I'm Morgan, your stylist."

"I'm Jade," I say quietly. He smiles, holding out a hand to me. We shake and he sits next to me.

"I'm very sorry about all of this. I'd like to help you any way I can, if you'll let me."

I blink, surprised. Only the villages look at it that way. "Most others just congratulate me," I comment, grateful that we're seeing eye-to-eye.

"And there's no point in that, is there?" he asks me. I shake my head in quick agreement.

"Anyhow, tonight they have the Tribute Parade. It's my job to show you off to the audience so you can get sponsors in the arena." Am I wrong or did a hint of pride sneak into that last part? Not enough to be bad, but simply being proud of something. Just like me and my squad.

My squad . . .

Great. I haven't even landed in the arena yet and already I miss them so badly it hurts. "So your job is to make me look pretty?" I ask, trying to make myself focus on something else. "My job is to help you make an impression," Morgan corrects me in his low voice. "Now, as a stylist, I have to dress my tributes in whatever their village produces. What would that be for you?"

"Coal," I say immediately, not even having to think about it. "But we're always put in miners' suits. Nothing attractive." Morgan keeps up with surprising ease. Almost as soon as I finish talking, he says, "I know. But it seems to me like some coal miner's suit won't get a brave lass like you any sponsers now, will it?"

"No, I don't think so," I reply. Even though I'm sure that, whatever Morgan decides, I'll get sponsors once I'm in the arena and they see what I can do.

"And the whole point of the parade is to get the sponsors' attention, right?"

He's trying to help me think. I nod. But what on earth is this man suggesting?

"So I thought, what better way to get their attention than with something they've never seen before? You're not afraid of fire, are you, Jade?"

I scoff at his last words. "Me? Afraid of fire? Are you kidding? I and two other werewings in the Guardian squad breathe fire. One of them can set himself on fire!"

This obviously fascinates Morgan and he asks me about my position with the Guardians. I tell him my story, starting from as far back as I can remember, but when I get to the part about Dad's death, Morgan's hand unexplicably begins to quiver. My eyes jolt up from his hand to his face, and the sorrow I see in his face so reflects my own that I'm tempted to wrap my arms around him and cry for a few minutes. But I don't. Like so many times before, I hold myself together.

Suddenly, Morgan takes my warm hand in his and looks me in the eye. He takes a deep breath, as though what he is about to say is terribly difficult, and says, "Your father . . . You probably think we people in the Mainland don't pay any attention to what goes on in the villages."

To this, I reply, "I don't expect you to."

"But I want you to know, Jade, that a great many of us here were as devastated as you were when your father died. Even here, he was a legend."

The thought that I was not the only one impacted by that horrible ordeal--which still haunts me relentlessly--is somehow comforting. On the night that Dad was killed, I felt so terribly alone, even though Mom and Bella held me tight. For weeks afterward, I woke myself up screaming from nightmares. But that the people in the Mainland were also hit hard makes me think that perhaps I've underestimated them a little.

I look at Morgan and say quietly, "Thank you. I can't tell you how much that means to me."

Morgan smiles. "So, does this mean we're friends now?" he inquires curiously. Grinning, I nod and he extends an arm toward what I suppose is his office. "Then let me show you how I brainstorm."