Jabberjay [The Hunger Games]

Chapter Five

     The blemishes that are scattered throughout my body have proved problematic for my exuberant prep team. They have no problem pointing out every minuscule flaw with no regard to how it might make me feel. I don't pay them too much attention though because I have never been insecure about my appearance. Besides the normal growing up worries of "Am I pretty enough?" However, with that being said, I am still human and they are very annoying. I almost wish they were going to be in the games so that I could have something to look forward to.
     In my mind, I keep replaying the events that took place in the President's Mansion. The sound of my mothers' screams stay with me in this moment as the assembly of freaks work on my body. The anxiety that has developed in my chest has not swayed since Brutus told me about the interrogation. My mother is at the disposal of the Capitol and as much as I want to pretend that I trust in the leaders of my country, I can't convince myself of that anymore. It took the first-hand experience of seeing President Snow murder someone without hesitation for me to see the corruption.
     The aftermath of my brawl with Deco Talli has not completely healed over. The cut that she sent right above my eyebrow continues to sting, I just have been too distressed to pay attention to it. My prep team has been applying creams that are much stronger than what Brutus had treated me with. I can tell because, within a matter of seconds, the coldness from the concoction has diminished the burn from my wounds. Meanwhile, I am getting second-hand gossip about how a member of District Six's prep team looks completely botched.
     "Elouera, hand me the wax! I need to go over her pits!" says the only man on my prep team. I let out a slight gasp knowing that I had just shaved this morning, and am slightly insulted. I ultimately decide not to say anything though, because I know that they don't mean any harm. But my God, they are the most unsocially aware creatures ever.
     I allow myself to zone out while they bathe me, only thinking of times back in District Two. I can't believe it, but I'm starting to miss home. If I could go back in time and un-volunteer then I would, considering how everything has unfolded since the Reaping. I would still be with my parents, and my mother would not be in harm's way. I am amazed at how my view of The Hunger Games has slowly shifted into something that I have started to fear. This time last month I was completely ready to dart towards the center of the cornucopia, grab a few knives, and then chuck them at whoever dares come closer. My perspective is morphing, and I am beginning to question if I could even win these games.
     "You look so gorgeous, my dear," says a woman whose eyes are outlined with saturated gems that match her neon pink hair. After listening to her and the rest of my prep team for over an hour, I have picked up that her name is Azora.
     "All finished! I'll go fetch Chrisana, she's dying to meet you!" announces Elouera, who is my favorite of the three in my prep team. She has an elegant but not overly dramatic vibe to her, from what I can tell. She is dressed in a leopard jumpsuit which compliments her natural brown hair that is pinned up in an extravagant braid. Her makeup has a more natural feel to it, which I'm drawn to. I've never been one to go all out on makeup. I own a few lipsticks, some foundation, and eyeliner, but that's the extent of my beauty supply.
     Almost as if she was waiting for the announcement of my readiness, a tall woman walks in with a sandy pigment and pitch-black strings of hair that grace her shoulders. The golden dress that cuts off right above her knees' shines as the light bounces off of it. In the background of her grand entrance, I notice my prep team quietly sneaking out the door. She walks with confidence over to me displaying a grand smile that is sketched across her face.
     "Hi, how are we?" She asks, stopping herself right in front of me. Today has been such a drawn-out catastrophe so I don't hesitate to lie and say, "I'm doing great, how are you?"
     "Oh, wonderful, especially since I've got you. District Five was quite the snooze last year. I'm just glad I have a contender this time around!" She declares, causing me to smile back at her.
     She examines my body that has been wrapped in a towel as my prep team had prepared me. There is a mirror on the wall in which I catch my reflection, noticing that the once gaping scar Deco Talli caused has disappeared. In disbelief, I raise my hand and touch where the cut used to be engraved into my skin. Gone, completely gone. The ointment that they have is nowhere near what we have in District Two. We were always told that we are the Capitol's favorites and what they have, they share with us. However, the highest dollar medicine in District Two would have taken 2 weeks for a cut like that to heal. A part of me feels mislead because they are most definitely living more lavish here, which is whatever, it's just annoying that they present it like it's equal.
     "My name is Chrisana, and if you haven't guessed already, I am your stylist," she says, moving a lone strand of hair out of my face to behind my ear.
     "I'm Carmen Delano, the winner of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games," I say to her, knowing that she will eat it up and partially trying to convince myself again.
     As expected she screams in gratification, twirling to the other side of the room where a pale white curtain drapes from the wall. Chrisana stands beside it and asks if I am ready to see what I am wearing for the Tribute Parade. District Two is one of the harder districts to pull off considering there is only so much that you can do with masonry. After so many years of the same old stone dresses and capes made of swords, it became redundant. I am a bit nervous because I have no say so in this part of my strategy in winning, no choice but to have blind faith in my stylist. Chrisana builds up the anticipation and lets the room fall silent for a few moments before she pulls the curtain away and reveals an outfit that takes my breath away.
     There stands a mannequin that wears a dress resembling some type of brick wall around the chest, along with matching lingerie that would barely cover my genitals. This is to be expected though because everybody knows that sex sells in the Capitol. Deep red bricks also sit around the shoulders and form a slanted wall that covers half of the face, building up to a crown that sits on the top of the mannequin's head. I think my favorite part is the black see-through fabric that drapes around the waist and falls to the floor. Overall, it looks very nice and I am impressed.
     "So, what do you think, dear?" Chrisana asks, craving my approval.
     "I think you outdid yourself, Chrisana. It's beautiful," I say, assuring her that she did a good job. She matches my smile and comes over to hug me.
     I almost forget about the reality of what is happening and begin to feel guilty. My mother could be screaming for my help right now and I would have no idea. I then think about my father, then the gunshot that went off while we were talking in the Justice Building. That bullet didn't hit my mother as I had originally feared, so what did it hit, or who? I then remember that Brutus was not allowed into the Mansion, and hope that he is okay as well.
     It takes Chrisana and the rest of my prep team about thirty minutes to get my outfit completely on and adjusted. It is skin-tight and rather uncomfortable, but I am confident that I will stand out. I look in the mirror and admire the work of art that I have become, letting my power shine through. Chrisana and the rest of my prep team are cheering me on, resulting in me striking a pose for them. I begin to wonder what Malo's version of the costume will look like, already knowing that the crowd will completely adore him.
     "Wow, wow, wow," says the deep voice of Brutus from the door frame. I am relieved to see him because he is the only person truly on my side on this journey. I feel like everyone else sees me as a pretty paycheck, but Brutus has been in my shoes before and understands the stakes of it all. I mean, he is incentivized to help me as much as possible, a victory for me is a win for him as my mentor.
     "You like it?" I ask him, seeking an answer that I already know.
     "You look stunning," he says, walking around me and observing every minuscule detail of my outfit.
     I dramatically roll my eyes and turn back to the mirror, seeing his reflection still eyeing me down. I do not fully understand why I enjoy the company of Brutus, but I do. Yes, he is a tad arrogant, but very knowledgeable when it comes to the games. I look forward to training with him. The fact of the matter is that he is considered the greatest by many, and I want into the circle at the end of this.
     "We need to start heading over to the chariots! I can't wait to see the other tributes!" Chrisana says in a squeaky pitch, trotting out of the room as the prep team follows her.
     Once they exit, Brutus turns to me with a rather serious expression, "Alright, there are going to be sponsors watching you tonight. You need to make an impression and stand out. I can only do so much alone, I'm going to need you to look strong, yet personable. It doesn't matter how good you can shoot an arrow, or use a sword, you will die without sponsors."
     "I know, I know. They taught us all of this back in Two, but I don't know if I'm the likable type." I say, being honest with him.
     "Even if you don't think you are, you're going to have to be. You're a career district so you already have an advantage over others, people will be most likely to sponsor you over, let's say someone from Ten. What you need to aim for is being the most liked out of your futures allies, so One, Two, and Four," Brutus says, beginning to lean against the mannequin.
     The Careers' are typically Capitol favorites and I already feel like Malo is for sure going to be better liked than I am. He started playing this game the second he was reaped, giving into the crowds, flexing his muscles, using his charm, the list goes on. He is going to be a thorn in my side for the rest of this process, myself always standing in his shadow. A part of me hopes he dies in the bloodbath somehow so I can be the only representation from District Two. That is a story arc that I could lean into with all of the District Two fans in the capitol having no choice but to root for me, and only me.
       "Also, after the Parade, you are going to have a bit of free time with the other tributes. I would talk with One and Four, lock down that alliance first and then pay attention to who everyone else is talking to," Brutus says before patting me twice on my shoulder and walking out of the room, I follow.
     It does not take long for myself, Brutus, Chrisana, and the rest of my prep team to make it to the lineup of chariots. Malo is standing with his team beside a chariot that has the number '2' painted on the side. That must be something new this year because in previous years all of the chariots had the generic logo of Panem on them.
     "This is Velour, my partner in crime," Chrisana says, introducing me to a man who looks like he is in his late twenties or early thirties. There is not a part of his body that is not covered in tattoos. The ink embedded in his skin is several different shades of many different colors, making you want to keep looking. He has them under his eyes, on his forehead, his ears, in between his fingers, not a bare spot of skin to be seen. I shake the hand that he has held out to me, getting lost in the designs that cover his lips.
     Malo's outfit is slightly altered to accommodate his build, however, he is still showing skin. I can't help myself from looking down at the skin-tight fabric wrapped around his groin. Whilst in the act, Malo takes his finger and uses it to guide my chin up to meet him at eye level.
     "Wrong head," he says, grinning at me as I feel my face instantly flush red.
     "I was just admiring Velour's work. Don't flatter yourself," I spit back at him.
     Malo doesn't give me a hard time about it, which I appreciate. Instead, he points out a pair of tributes that are walking by us on the way to their chariot. They seem to be wearing nothing other than black dust that covers their entire body. Malo starts to laugh and I give in, laughing as well.
     "Is that Twelve?" I ask, turning to Chrisana and Velour.
     "Yes, indeed! Coal mining," Velour says, grinning.
     "Poor things, they look so miserable," Chrisana pouts, frowning slightly.
     "Give me a few days, I'll put them out of their misery," Malo spits back, causing everyone to laugh.
     "Ya know, we might need one of them," I say, trying to defend them since they aren't here to do it themselves.
     "Yeah, if the arena is a coal mine," Malo rebuts, allowing his ego to grow.
     The chatter from the crowd awaiting outside has turned to silence and that's when Malo and I are instructed to get into the chariot. He helps me in and I can't stop myself from thinking that everything that he does is a strategic move in an attempt to bring down my guard. I imagine us in the arena in a similar situation where he is helping me climb something, then right when I reach for his hand he pulls out a blade and lodges it into my neck. My biggest fear is to look like a fool in front of everyone, with the whole country watching. The national anthem of Panem begins, forcing my thoughts to go elsewhere.
     Malo turns to me and smiles, "You look good in bricks." I don't really know what to say to that, so I just smile back. I turn to look forward and I catch the tributes from District One who are getting onto their chariot. The boys' platinum hair is clearly dyed and glows under the street lights as he throws his hands up in a dramatic manner. The girl beside him stands tall and does not move as if she were made from the bricks that cut off half of my vision. I have a pit in my stomach at the thought of taking them on in a 2v1 scenario once in the arena.
     The horses attached to our chariot are becoming impatient as they begin to shuffle around, awaiting their signal to move. Eventually, it comes with the blaring sound of the anthem as District One moves into the sight of the Capitol citizens. I feel a sense of nervousness as the roar of the crowd picks up, and the seriousness of this moment sets in. My hands start to shake and my teeth clatter, but I force myself to put on a huge smile for the cameras and the audience filled with potential sponsors. They go rampant when they see Malo and I enter, each of their screams pleading to be noticed. The nervousness eases off as I feed into the attention, waving at everyone, blowing kisses, even turning to Malo and hugging him to show District pride.
    Once I shift my focus to the President's Mansion standing ahead my heart drops to the wooden floor of the chariot. Malo must see the change in my body language because he subtly asks if I am okay. The lump in my throat is too thick to answer, knowing that my mother is most likely being held hostage inside of that glorified prison. The scenes from earlier that I tried to block out of my memory have resurfaced and play like a movie in my mind. My heart rate begins to pick up as I see President Snow step up onto his podium, looking directly down at me.
     The crowd quietens down as he starts his speech that is always slightly modified from the year before. He talks about honor, integrity, and sacrifice as if he is an honorable man filled with integrity that is willing to make sacrifices. He is not. My stomach curls inside of me, while I worry about the well-being of my mother. It hits me that I could never see her again whether she dies or I do. The chances are low that we both end up making it out of our scenarios alive.
     Once Snow finishes, the music begins to play again and the horses start to pull the chariots out of the city. Malo and I give our final waves to the crowds, hoping that we have made a memorable footprint in their minds. The chariots come to a halt, one by one, after we are far enough away from the view of the cameras. The whole fleet of assistants that we have are waiting to congratulate us, clapping and cheering us on. I can't help but laugh at the dancing that Katrina has going on, causing her oversized wig to lean back and forth with every movement.
     "You guys did amazing," Vivian says, holding her hand out to assist whoever grabs it first. Malo does, using it to balance himself as he jumps to the floor. He then swats Vivian's hand away that is reaching for me, extending his own in an attempt to help me down. I tilt my head at him and give in to his offer, grasping his hand which is when he forcefully pulls me down, causing me to fall forward. I squeal as Malo catches me by the waist, and twirls me around until I land on the ground. I feel a flame of warmth light up in my heart as he gives me a smile, but quickly do whatever I can to distinguish it.
     "Hey lovebirds," says a voice from behind, causing myself and Malo to turn around.
     It's the girl from District One standing beside her partner, the boy with the platinum hair that is just a few shades lighter than her own. They are dressed in a sparkly golden fabric that covers up only sporadic parts of their body. Dangling jewels outline their jawline from ear to ear, also hanging from each of their fingertips.
     "We're not lovebirds," I spit back in a tone that could come off as bitchy, but I don't care. I don't want that narrative assigned to me because it would only be associated with weakness in the arena.
     "Yeah, it's one-sided on her end," Malo teases, lightening the mood and causing everyone in the conversation to at least smile.
     The boy from District One begins to strut towards Malo, "Well there big boy, if you're single..."
     "Lux!" snaps the girl, pulling him back to the place beside her. I can't help but give in to the urge of laughter along with Malo as he playfully blows him a kiss.
     "I'm sorry, he's so annoying," the girl says with a lightness to her voice.
     "I'd rather be annoying than bland," he hisses back, crossing his arms and then giggling.
     "My name's Silica and this is Lux," she says with a warm smile, allowing her confidence to radiate through her tone. Malo goes on to introduce us with a tint of showmanship that I've noticed revisits and fades away depending on who he is talking to. We are in the early stages of a very powerful alliance that will likely dominate the game. That is if everyone remains loyal which is not always the case, and one of my biggest fears with a big alliance full of egos. I remember learning about different likely hoods of surviving while sticking with the career pack or breaking off from them. The probability of someone winning has always favored staying unwaveringly loyal to the alliance until it gets down to the final few. However, even with statistics backing that strategy I just can't imagine trusting a group of bloodthirsty career tributes. Even if I am one of them.
     Eventually, the District Four tributes who are dressed in fishnets join the rest of us and introduce themselves as Ripley and Alanis. Ripley is about the same size as Malo with an abundance of muscle to show for his work on the fishing docks of District Four. He has short auburn hair that is gelled up in spikes, with deep hazel eyes that remind me of autumn. Alanis is quite the opposite, with jet black curls that hover over her shoulders. Her eyes are a beautiful dark brown that I find myself getting lost in. She carries herself with confidence and definitely understands that she is attractive but does not speak much in this group setting. Once I finish admiring her beauty I can see the wheels turning in her head. I make a mental note to keep my eye on her because I think I could learn a thing or two if I pay attention.
     After a few minutes, Ripley brings up the elephant in the room, "So, we're working together out there, right guys?"
     Everyone involved shows signs of confirmation whether it be a nod, a "Hell yeah," or a simple smile. Malo is the one to put his hand in the center of the circle of bodies that we've created. One by one we all join him and place our hands on top of each other. Once all six of us are accounted for in the tower of hands, we throw them up, not caring that other tributes' around us are staring. I can sense the resentment in the body language of the tributes from the outlying districts, they probably despise us. This is sick to them. I humble myself and my eyes shift between my allies; Lux, Silica, Malo, Ripley, and Alanis. One overwhelming thought completely takes a hold of my thought process. If I want to win, I need them dead as soon as that gong sounds.