¹ FIRST VENTURE ─ the hunger games

three - making an impression

— GWYNETH —

THE TRAIN skids into the station, making an abrupt stop. We have been sitting on this train for almost a day, and I can't help but wonder how the Capitol City is. I get up from my seat, dried tears still on my face and exit the compartment into the view of the world.

I am completely dazed as I look around the brightly-colored Capitol. The neon colors blind my sight, and for a moment, I just stand there, not knowing where to go or what to do.

Cameras flood me. Paparazzi surround the no-longer-moving train, and sounds of shutters are everywhere. Just the mere sight of the flashlights threatens to blind me. 

Everyone is yelling - whether it may be instructions, cheers, or just screams of frustration and excitement. People call my name intimidatingly, and a lady with nails painted like tiger claws extends her hand, trying to touch mine. I shrug her off and she frowns, then turns to join the crowd in tiptoeing, trying to see the people behind me.

Slowly, I make my way past the throngs of photographers and into a fancy building labelled the styling centre, and a girl with brown hair pulled into a low ponytail greets me at the entrance. 

"Hello, Gwyneth Anderson. I'm Emma and I've been assigned to be your stylist," she says. "Would you please follow me?"

Nothing but the sound of our footsteps resonates in the hall as we slowly pad across the hard, cold floor and into the elevator. I follow her into a small room filled with mirrors and plop down on her beige-coloured couch. "Okay, let's get started, shall we?" she asks, motioning me to sit down on a black spinning chair. I impatiently spin around on it, feeling some sense of security and childishness returned to me.

She looks me over and says, "I'm sure you'd look dazzling in the dress I've prepared." She takes some of my measurements before nodding in contentment, disappearing into a hidden door before coming out again with a garment bag and makeup kit. 

Emma opens her makeup kit while trying to make small talk with me, asking me about my age and friends back at home. 

She produces a tiny brush and slowly brushes some beige and sparkly eyeshadow onto my lids after applying a faint layer of lip gloss. Emma styles my hair into loose curls ending a bit below my shoulders. "All done. Now, time for your outfit."

"Close your eyes," she says. "I'm sure you'll love it."

I hear some snipping as Emma makes minor changes to my outfit, and I feel a silky material slip over my head.

"Open your eyes," I hear, and I open my eyes, not believing what I've seen. I blink. Once, twice. It doesn't change. It's me. It's me? Emma has dressed me in a gorgeous light teal bodycon dress with ribbons, ending slightly under my knees. My hair is in loose waves framing my face, and my lips are tinted light pink.

I look in the mirror. Who's this girl? It's not the Gwyneth Anderson who left the Adelaide Woods just one day ago. I'm pretty. Prettier than I could have ever been in the Adelaide Woods. Pity I'm here being dolled and dressed up so fancy and pretty, just to be sent to my imminent death in the arena. "Thank you!" I cry, burying Emma in a hug, and she hands me a pair of blue flats to go along with my outfit.

Emma nods. She pushes my chin up with her index finger. "Be yourself out there," she says. "Be yourself, and be confident."I look at her with gratitude and determination in my eyes and give her another hug.

She then leads me out of the makeup room and into the hallway, to a large stadium where 24 chariots await.

Emma brings me to the first chariot, where two chestnut mares are waiting. I stroke their soft fur before jumping onto my chariot, and shortly after, it slowly starts moving and rolling into the City Circle. I put my left hand on my hip and try to look confident like Emma said, even if I'm totally not prepared. 

My name is blared over the loudspeakers, and the audience seems to love me. I suppose they're all from Byrok, or else they wouldn't be so excited under the occasion of 23 people dying in a short week. Oh, well. Who am I to judge?

I wave to the audience and they definitely buy it. The sweet scent of flowers envelops me as roses, daisies, and lilies are thrown onto my chariot. The shouts of my name resonate and we continue to circle the Square before coming to a complete stop, and I'm greeted by Emma once again when the chariot ride is over. 

"You did great," she says, and I nod. Then, I follow Emma back to the room.

She lightly removes my makeup and escorts me to the Training Centre, where we ride to the 6th floor.

I'll be staying here until I enter the arena. "Tomorrow is going to be a tough day for sure..." I think to myself as I sink into the bed.

The night was silent. I couldn't hear anything from my room inside the tribute Training Centre except for the sound of my own heart beating and thumping inside my chest, so desperately wanting to break free.