The Starving Artist: Hunger Games 2015 Contest Entries

The Parade (Not in the Contest)

I glare down at my costume. What was my stylist thinking? This thing not only weighs a ton, but I look like they decided to dip me in glue before rolling me in bling. Which is insane. Who does that? My stylist apparently.

This time around, I could not convince her to let me wear jeans and a t-shirt.

No, it was all or nothing. Literally. I so didn't want to end up having her actually glue bling all over me. As it is, I'm not wearing a shirt. What is it with people and going shirtless or naked? I get that it's a costume parade, but going with nothing on is not wearing a costume. It's ridiculous and inappropriate.

When presented with those options, I allowed her to cover a pair of black jeans in diamonds and studs. Crazy woman. I know we're from the luxury district, but is this necessary? I'm wearing a glimmering green ring that matches my eyes, and that's the only good thing about this getup. I like the ring. It's brass with entwined threads of silver and a simple four-pronged setting for the emerald.

My district partner climbs onto the chariot, hiking up the long train of her dress. She looks stunning, but her outfit isn't any more practical than mine. Her dress's train will have to be stuffed into the chariot's basket to keep it from being destroyed as we ride in, and that means it'll squash the both of us.

She heaves a sigh and looks me over with a skeptical eye. "You look nice shirtless, but aren't the pants a bit overboard?"

I shrug. "It was either that or come naked and covered in bling. My stylist is crazy."

She nods. "What's with the cuffs and torc? Is she trying to make you look like a rich tribal chieftain?"

I crack a smile. "Yeah. I think she secretly admires them. I'm surprised she didn't put me in a diamond covered kilt."

Everest raises an eyebrow at this. "Okay..." She draws the word out for a few moments and then just shakes her head. "Well, you're better off than I am."

"Seriously? You look gorgeous. Albeit the dress's train is stupid, but the rest is good. The belt and crown make you look like some sort of warrior princess."

They do, too. The dress's neckline is almost scandalously low, and the dress barely has sleeves. It's black with studs outlining the neckline. A leather belt circles her waist with more studs and diamonds. The crown is a masterpiece of twisted metal and diamonds set on a delicate band. No idea how she's keeping it on, but it looks cool. "I think I got the short straw," I mutter. "I look like an idiot."

"You might win sponsors with the woman just because you've got a pretty face and a nice body." She curls her lip in disgust. "The things Capital women think are good qualities in a guy... They never cease to amaze me."

I glare at her. "I am not just a pretty face."

"True, the scars sort of ruin it."

Her stupidity knows no bounds. "Maybe I should scar the rest of my face too. Then no one will want anything to do with me. Much less airheaded Capital women."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "I don't know... Scars are all the rage with them."

"Then forget it." I glare down at the ground between the horses' hooves as we start moving. "It's not worth the pain."

Everest shrugs. "Well, you'd better turn around and wave for the crowd. Keep scowling like that, and everyone will think you're morose. Then you can kiss sponsors goodbye."

"Whatever."

I brace my hands on the front of the chariot and prepare myself for the slaughter awaiting. At least, appearing before a crowd of people in this getup feels like a willing submission to slaughter.