Chapter 5

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"Outta my way! Move, you idiots!! You saw what I did to my competitors in the Games! You don't want that to happen to you, do you?" I squint my eyes open, and see that Arcto is pushing his way through the crowds to get to... what? I open my eyes further, trying to make sense of what's happening. Everybody seems to be gathered around me... but why? Suddenly it all comes back to me. The cameras, the flashing lights. I must have fainted from the stress and confusion of it all. 

Arcto keeps shoving people out of his way. If it were anyone else pushing through the crowds and swearing at anyone who gets in their way, I would assume that they were trying to get to me and ask if I were okay. But seeing that it's not just anyone, it's Arcto, who willingly killed seven people and would have no problem with a twelve-year old girl fainting, I assume that he's trying to get to something else. I sit up and try to look behind me to find out what he needs, and immediately fall back on to my hands. I guess I'm still a little disoriented. I sit there on my hands for a moment, wondering how I'm going to participate in the opening ceremonies if I can barely even sit up. Suddenly I realize that there are now four people hurrying in my direction. My vision is still a little hazy, so I have to squint a little to make out their faces. It's then that I realize who the additional three people are: My prep team. Or at least I'm prettty sure. In any of the districts, they would stand out like an trio of oranges on a pear tree, but here they blend in with the brightly colored, bizarre crowd.

They reach me and I realize that I was correct; they are indeed my prep crew. I know that they're saying something to me, but I can't tell what because of their strange Capital accents. To me, they sound (and look) like the little chipmunks that sometimes try to eat the apples that we pick. The only difference is the fur. Oh, and the fact that chipmunks don't take pleasure in watching you get brutally murdered. (Or maybe they do. I don't know much about what chipmunks think).

One of the ladies in the Chipmunk Squad pulls me up, and brushes the dust off my outfit.

"Great! She's all better, everyone! Go back to your duties!" she squeaks. At least I'm pretty sure that that's what she's saying. I thought Aurelia Staria's accent was bad, but it's nothing compared to this lady's.

Prep team member #1 begins to herd me back into the prep room, keeping me upright with the palm of her hand. I'm almost to the door, when Arcto stops her.

"She needs rest. She's obviously still disoriented, and we don't know what type of head injuries she may have. If there are any of those, they'll need to be healed, stat. If they're serious enough, she could die before the Games even start." Huh. That's odd. I didn't think Arcto had a compassionate bone in his body.

The lady gives Arcto a look that says "Does it really matter? She'd probably live about that long anyway.", and I shrink about five inches. If Arcto hadn't already dashed all of my hopes of winning these Games, this lady would've.

"I'm okay," I mumble. After all, the lady's right. Does a bump on the head really matter in the face of what will happen to me in the next few weeks?

"See! I told you she was all right!" She motions for the rest of her prep team to follow her into the prep room.

"Okay," the only male in the group starts off, "we've got very little time to make you look presentable for Tarragon, so we need you to cooperate." Tarragon? Like the spice?

"Could you tell me who Tarragon is?" I ask.

"Tarragon? He's your stylist! He'll be preparing your outfit for the opening ceremonies. But of course, it won't matter that your dress is marvelous if you look as dreadful as you do now in the Opening Ceremonies! That's why we're here- to fix you up!" So I guess Tarragon is a name here. In District Eleven, there was a superstition that Tarragon was bad luck, so I never knew anyone named that. I guess that tidbit of information didn't ever reach the Capital. Or maybe it did, and they just didn't follow it. It's not like anything truly bad would ever happen to anyone in the Capital.

Little Flower-The Hunger Games from Rue's Point of ViewWhere stories live. Discover now