𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

THREE

THREE - 

By the time I wake, Loren is already up and getting herself ready. I can hear her humming one of the stonecrafters work songs in the bathroom next door, the soft trickle of the shower running in the background.

I rub the sleep from my eyes and throw back the covers, jumping out of bed to slide my feet into a pair of fluffy black slippers. The sun is shining brightly through the window, though the myriad of pinks and oranges streaked across the morning sky suggests it hasn't long risen. I shuffle over to the bedroom door, still half asleep, and head downstairs to make the morning coffee.

My mother is in the kitchen, already dressed and ready for the day ahead. Her honey blonde hair, just a shade off from Loren's, is twisted into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck, the strands around her face spiralled in flawless curls. A pretty forest green swing dress frames her hourglass figure, fanning out from the waist to her calves.

"You better start getting yourself ready, dear." She says as she pours me a cup of dark liquid from the coffee pot. I graciously accept the mug from her outstretched hands as she looks me up and down, taking in the sight of my pinned hair, pyjamas, and lack of makeup. "Loren's already made a start."

Of course, Loren has always been the good girl. Even on Reaping day, the one day of the year where I have a chance to better my sister, she still sets the example in my mother's eyes.

As soon as Loren is finished in the bathroom I tuck my hair into a cap and step into the shower. The warm water runs down my skin in rivulets, and I scrub at the mix of brick dust and dirt under my fingernails and in the lines of my palms until they are spotless. I leave the bathroom smelling of roses and cherries, fault of a pearly pink soap Loren left in the shower rack. Mother must have bought it from the expensive cosmetic store in the small parade of merchant shops bordering the Market Square.

When I return to our bedroom, Loren is already dressed. The dove grey frock father gifted her is well suited. The sleeveless design accentuates her long limbs perfectly, and the iridescent beading on the bodice brings out the sparkles in her eyes. She has begun to braid pieces of her blonde bob into a crown about her head.

Even wearing the bright scarlet of fresh blood, I will never be able to hold a candle to my little sister.

Loren finishes up with her makeup, adding soft pale glitter to her eyes and a nude gloss to her lips before she realises that it's high time to start on me. Together we release my curls from their pins until they settle in loose twists over my shoulders, no longer wild and tangled but sleek and bouncy. I have my back turned to the mirror whilst Loren attacks my face with brushes. I don't know what she's planning, but I would trust my sister with my life, and she has never failed me before. Though I know I may not be able to ascend to her level, I can at least be sure I will never attend a Reaping looking a mess.

She completes my look with a squeal and a flourish, tossing her brushes back into the bag before grabbing my shoulders. "I don't want you to see it until you've got your dress on too! It'll ruin the look!" She bustles over to the crimson garment hanging over my wardrobe door and thrusts it into my open arms.

Huffing loudly, I relent and begin to change out of my pyjamas whilst Loren adjusts her hair. The dress father bought for me is beautiful, cut straight across my chest where short sleeves bell out around my upper arms. The skirt kicks out at the waist, settling just above my knees in a pleated formation, encouraged outwards by the layers of netting beneath.