Secrets

Chapter Thirteen

My jaw clenches as a woman named Daisy, who has bright pink hair and tattoos down her neck, rips a strip of wax from my leg, getting rid of whatever hair was beneath it. "Sorry," she murmurs, "I have to." Her voice is high-pitched with a bit of an old British accent.

A tall purple haired man named Volt, gets my other leg ready, lathering it up in hot wax. "Good news," he chuckles, waiting for the wax to harden, "this is the last strip."When they rip it off, I wince. It feels like my entire leg came off with it. 

I've been in what they call The Remake Center, for more than two hours and I still haven't met my stylists. Normally tributes only get one stylist, but when you come from district with a great amount of privilege, you get two. From what the others have told me, my stylists have no interest in seeing me until Daisy and the other members of the prep team have situated my appearance. This so far has included scrubbing down my body with a coarse foam that feels like it has removed almost at least two layers of my skin, filing my nails into shape, cutting some of my hair, and shaving every inch of my body; legs, arms, torso, underarms, and they also threaded some of my eyebrows.

My skin feels like a dolphin, although my legs sting. If I were to step into a bright light I'd probably shine, "Are we almost done?" I ask, letting out an annoyed breath.

"Yes," Daisy says, "you did very well. Let's lather you up!"

Volt and another woman begin to rub my body down with a lotion that at first strings, but then soothes my skin. Then they rise me up from the table, taking off the thin robe that I've been allowed to wear off and on. I stand there, completely naked, as the prep team maneuvers around me, tweaking the last bits of hairs.

Although the situation is uncomfortable, I don't feel as embarrassed as I thought I would be. I've always taken fairly good care of myself and I wasn't raised in a district that would cause me to be too hairy or un-fit in any way.

Daisy steps back, "Perfect! You look exquisite."

"Indeed," Volt interjects, smiling from ear to ear.

"Thank you," I nod, giving them my best smile to show my gratification.

They all clap their hands together and wish me luck before dashing out of the room. I look around the room, surrounded in white walls and a cold metal floor. My robe is still on the floor next to me, but I don't bother putting it on since I'll probably have to take it off again. Instead, I run a hand through my hair which is extremely soft and smells like honey.

The door in front of me opens and two younger looking stylists walk into the room. Kira looks bonkers, with big puffy green hair and gold tattoos all across her body. She's also decided to wear a yellow tight jumpsuit with bright pink polka dots scattered across it. Most stylists, however, tend to look like her. Surgically altered to the point where their faces look like a Photoshop disaster. But, Jagger looks almost normal. His jet-black hair slicked in a sleek style. An eyebrow piercing above his left eye, and his outfit is only a red jumper with black lining.

Kira speaks first, "You must be Clove. I'm Kira and this is Jagger." Her hands motion to the young man, her voice even more squeaky than the prep teams.

"Hello," I say.

"Give us one moment to look you over before we continue, okay?" Jagger now says, raising one of my arms into the air, looking down my bare chest. His hands are cold as he grabs the other arm, glancing at Kira with only a look they could understand, "You're very fit."

"Thanks," I glance at him, frozen in my place.

Jagger steps back and Kira steps forwards, her eyes scanning my face, "Freckles. How cute. And green eyes." She hums, crossing her arms.