The 74th Hunger Games.

The Parade.

I wake to the sound of my bath being drawn. The tub must be pretty much full, because a minute later the sound stops and an Avox slips out of the bathroom, notices that I am awake, gives me a quick nod and flees the room.

I crawl out of the comfiest bed I have ever laid in and into the bathroom. The water must have some sort of oil in it, because even though the water is clear, it already smells amazing. I slip off my nightgown and into the warm, soapy water.

I let myself relax for a little while, the warm water soothing my tired, aching shoulders. Eventually, I climb out, only because the water is starting to go cold. I would have been happy to stay in that bath for hours if it could stay warm that long. Come to think of it, it probably could with some gizmo district Three could surely make for the Capital.

I wrap myself in a huge, fuzzy white towel and leave the steamy room. I find another simple outfit had been put out. I dress and go suffer through breakfast with an annoyingly perky Effie Trinket. I almost wish for coffee, but when it is offered, shake my head and instead opt for caffeinated tea. Chase however, drinks two coffees.

We don't gain much information about what we'll be wearing for the parade, only that we are to go after breakfast to get prepared for it with our teams. Whatever that means.

                               ***

Apparently, it means being tortured by wax, razors, tweezers, body oils and scratchy scrubs. My legs are waxed, my eyebrows plucked, my whole body is scrubbed with itchy cloths covered in lovely smelling oils and soap.

I grit my teeth as each strip of wax is yanked off, my eyes watering as if I just walked into a door nose-first.

Finally, the waxing is done, and my body is rinsed with a gentle, warm water. I am then scrubbed again with oil that smells like roses and vanilla.

They next move onto my eyebrows, and the pain is dull compared to that of the wax. It hardly takes any time, and they do a final check of my body, declaring me done.

It is now well past six in the afternoon, and the parade starts at nine o'clock tonight. I am dressed in a plain white top and black stretch pants and sent back upstairs to eat dinner. Chase greets me at the top of the elevator.

"Hey. That was painfull," he says as we walk to the dining room. I can only imagine the tortures he had to indure.

"I couldn't agree more," I agree.

We arrive in the dinning room and take our seats, and dinner starts. Miserable. Dinner is miserable. It is useless talk of what the other tributes will be wearing. I try not to tune in.

"And what will we be wearing" I ask.

Cinna and Portia look at each other.

"We have something very special for you guys," Portia says.

"Please tell me we won't be flaming," Chase begs.

"No. That was Katniss. You'll be more... Bold," Cinna says.

Me and Chase share a look.

Later, I discover what Cinna meant. I stand in the dressing room designated for district Twelve, dressed in a simple white cotton robe. It is still more expensive than any of my clothes from Twelve.

Cinna walks in, a black latex bag in hand. He hangs it on a hook and kicks the door shut with his heel.

"So, are you ready to see?" he asks.

I wring my hands, nervous. "Yeah?"

He laughs at my nerves. "Your only twelve, but I want to portray your maturity. You are mature beyond your years and I want people to see that though you are the youngest in this, your not a child."