Forever or never

Chapter 5- The parade

Chapter 5

Cato’s point of view

I am capable of washing myself. I don't bother saying this aloud though because I know my prep team will dismiss it, just as they have dismissed the fact the smallest member is crying. She looks about 14, Clove's height and build, but with blond hair in ringlets tied in a scruffy bun and green eyes.

"Hey. What's wrong with you?" She looks at me, but doesn't respond.

"I spoke to you." I raise my voice slightly which makes her tremble backwards. I scowl at the rest of the team who shush her and tell her to stop blubbering.

"Get out." They stare at me, each of them stopping whatever they were doing, but they don't move.

"I said get out otherwise I'll slit your throat."

They all turn and walk away making up excuses to make it seem like it's their decision not mine. I place my hand on the small girls shoulder indicating her to stay, I can feel her shaking underneath my hand.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to cry it's just. You remind me of him." She blurts out at such speed I can barely understand what she is saying. She begins crying hysterically.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Just stop crying and tell me what's wrong."

"You're not going to hurt me?" She looks at me with a puzzled expression

"No, unless you continue crying." I smile at her and I see a small smile form on her face.

She goes on to explain that two years ago her brother Memphis was chosen for the games and she was as well. They were from District1 and her brother was a highly lethal career. He fought to keep her alive then when it was him and her left he poisoned himself to allow her to win. The game makers were furious. The capital, as punishment, decided her compulsory skill would be tribute prep. Every year she is on a prep team and has to watch the tributes go through what she did. It's worse than being an Avox.

Once she's calmed down I allow the rest of the prep team back in to wash, polish and do whatever the hell they like. The girl natters away which does calm me down. She reminds me of Clove. They have a similar personality and both enjoy throwing knives. They could defiantly be friends. I find out her name is Alaska. If Clove gets out the games I have no doubt that they could be friends.

*Meanwhile*

Clove’s point of view

"Ow. Stop. Stop!"

"Clove we have to wax you, do you want to look like a gorilla?"

"Like I care."

Okay maybe I do care. We need sponsors and the most attractive tributes do end up having an advantage. I can honestly say that this hurts more than a knife or sword. I'm used to that type of pain, but not this! They started by bathing and scrubbing me. Then, applied something to make my skin soft before they began ripping the hair out of my skin. All I'm left with is my perfectly shaped eyebrows and dark mane of hair. They apply a balm that soothes my raw skin. Apparently I will never have body hair again. The next thing I know I've been shoved into a chair and they're messing with my nails and eyelashes. They file my nails into perfect shaped and dye my eyelashes and put some gel on that lengthens them.

They then begin to work on my hair, applying a gel that fixes 'split ends' and makes it shine. Hours later I'm finally done, dressed and being taken to the underground stables. My stylist isn't practically interesting just another self -absorbed capital freak. Although I dare say, I look fantastic. I'm dressed in a long white empire gown that is dotted with golden leaves accompanied by gold gladiator sandals and a metal crown. I'm a roman goddess, strong, formidable and beautiful. My hair falls in loose curls around my face and my makeup is subtle, but my skin shimmers in gold dust reflecting light in every angle.