Storm: A Hunger Games Story {Book One of the Storm Trilogy}

Five

The next morning, there was no sunshine to greet me, which really set the mood for the day. I stretched and reluctantly pulled the covers off of me. I glanced at my clock and saw that it was eight-thirty. I took a shower, and made my way to the dining room for breakfast.

"Good morning Ophelia!" Anastasia beamed. She must be excited for today.

"Good morning." I pulled my chair out and sat down. I ate lots of fruits and healthy foods to keep me going for the day.

"Are you ready for your interview?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"I guess I'm as ready as I can be." Finally, Wes and Aaron enter the room. We say good morning, discuss the schedule for the day, and eat our food. Aaron trembled while slicing the butter. I looked at his eyes and I saw they were getting red. I didn't say anything to him, though. No need to embarrass him in front of Wes and Anastasia.

After breakfast, I am escorted to the Remake Center downstairs. Although it's only been a few days since the chariot rides, I am stripped and thoroughly cleaned once again. More wax. More scrubbing. Alaric worked on my hair, while Cordelia worked on my skin. She used tools and soaps to cleanse my face. Guinevere did my nails. Filing, scrubbing, and painting. When the three of them were finished, Ozias walked in to get me dressed. The entire day had been spent 'fixing me up', as my prep team called it. We took a break in between to eat lunch.

"Ready, darling?" I smiled, following him into the room. It was nearly six o'clock. I couldn't believe how much time was spent. Ozias brought in a dress that made my breath stop. It was gorgeous. It was a beautiful emerald green dress. It reached the floor and was tailor made to fit my body perfectly. The dress was made of a silky fabric, with glitter covering every inch. The bottom of the dress was made poofy by sewing crinoline underneath. It wasn't a ball gown, it was more of an a-line. It had no sleeves, just loose straps that fell off my shoulders beautifully. Ozias helped me step into the tall, silver heels. They had the same shimmer as the dress. Alaric was brought back in to help do my hair, while Cordelia and Guinevere did my makeup. My hair was simple. It was down, and curled. My makeup was more natural than I expected. There was a red gloss coated on my lips, and a thin layer of eyeliner hugging my eyelids. Once they were pleased with how I looked, they had me look in the mirror. I was shocked. I looked more beautiful than I had ever looked in my life. Although the fake eyelashes bothered me, and the shoes killed my feet, I didn't care. I just let myself stare in the mirror. How did they get my eyes to shine like that? How did they get my skin to glow like that?

Soon, it was time to make our way backstage. We were told to wait for our mentors, so that's exactly what I did. Finally, I saw Aaron walk in. He was dressed in a gray tuxedo, with a white shirt, a red tie, and brown dress shoes.

"Wow. You look absolutely stunning, Ophelia." he told me, embracing me in a hug.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Duke." I said playfully. We both laughed, before we heard Wes calling to us. As we turned to face him, I plastered a smile on my face. My eyes met his, and he looked me up and down.

"You look beautiful." he told me. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

"Thank you." We both smiled, but my smile disappeared after we heard an announcement telling us to get in line.

"You both are going to do great. Just remember your angle, okay?" Wes told us. I hugged him one last time, and he planted a kiss on the top of my head. Aaron and I got in line, as instructed. We were in district order as usual. In front of me was Sparrow, dressed in a black tux with a white shirt, and an orange tie. In front of Sparrow was Hazel, dressed in a gorgeous blush colored gown, with white heels that you could barely see, and her hair pulled up. Behind us was Galen, in a brown tux with a black shirt, white tie, and black shoes. The boys all seemed to have their hair gelled back.