Amber Scott- District 3 Tribute

Tribute Parade

I wake up the next morning, and get into the shower. I turn a dial at random, and the spout starts spewing scalding water. I turn another dial, and it lukewarm water starts gushing out. I decide that's good enough, and I take my shower.
I get out and put on the simple black shirt and slacks that have been put into my bed.
I go out into the living room, and Shanna says, "Hurry! We only have 10 minutes before we have to leave and meet your stylist!"
I grab some toast and blackberry jam. I scarf it down while we wait for Myron. He comes out, eyes bloodshot and face pale. He looks like he hasn't slept all night.
He catches me looking at him and says agitatedly, "What are you staring at?"
I say, "Nothing."
He gives me a nasty look and grabs an apple. He begins to smack noisy. I roll my eyes, and he begins to smack louder, giving me pointed looks. He really is a terribly obnoxious person. He is arrogant, rude, and sullen. I can't find any redeeming qualities.
Shanna bustles over, today she is wearing a purple skirt, with ruffles that extend at least three feet away from her body. Her top is covered in glittery, purple jewels and it catches the light, making it almost impossible to look at.
She says, "Let's go! Time to meet your stylists!"
Myron stands up and follows Shanna out of the room, stomping loudly. I follow him, shutting the door behind me. We walk out the door, and down the street.
We come to a large, modern building. As we go inside, I see two people waiting for us. A man with vivid, blue hair that is tightly coiled in curls all over his head. He wears an electric blue satin suit. There is also a woman. She has short, red hair that is wavy and is held back by a large violet hair clip. Her dress is ankle-length and very tight. She wears sparkly purple high heels. They look to be at least four inches tall, and I have no idea how she walks in them.
The man steps toward and says I'm a deep voice, "Hello. I'm Fletcher. I'll be your stylist, Myron."
Myron gives him a sulky look and says, "Fabulous."
Fletcher chuckles and walks off towards a long hallway. Myron reluctantly follows.
The woman says coolly, "You must be Amber. I am Annora. I'll be your stylist. Please follow me. We will go and take a look at you."
She seems calm and indifferent towards me. I wish I had gotten Fletcher. He seemed good-natured, but instead Myron got to work with him. Oh, well. It doesn't really matter. We won't be working with them for long. Their job is just to make us look pretty for the parade. Kilee is supposed to be the one talking to us about our strategy and all that. Unfortunately, she seems to have no interest in us. She could care less if we die.
My only hope is that the shock device makes it through. If it doesn't, I'm done for. I have no combat skills, and it's not like I can win by programming a computer.
I follow Annora down the same hallway that Myron and Fletcher went down. Annora turns into room, and I follow her. The floors are grey tile and the walls are white with no decorations. There isn't even a window. There is a seat that I assume is used for hair washing, and another chair in front of a mirror. There is a large cart that is stuffed with all sorts of beauty supplies. Hairbrushes, combs, scissors, razors, tweezers of all sizes... and is that a scalpel? There is also a bed that looks like one of the operating beds at the hospital. Oh no. She isn't going to preform surgery on me. This Capitol freak with her 4-inch heels is not going to preform surgery on me.
I guess I look nervous, because Annora says, "Relax. I'm not going to preform surgery on you. That's for the tributes with some kind of infection, or something like that. And we have doctors for that. My job is just to make you look pretty. Put this on." She thrusts a paper gown at me.
I put it on, and when I sit down on the bed, it crinkles loudly. Annora has me lay down, and she looks at me, head to toe. She sighs, and snaps her fingers. Two assistants come in through a door, and stand next to her, looking at me.
"Well, she seems to be better taken care of than some of the others that we've had," says a young woman with very dark skin. It is the color of dark chocolate. Everything about her is dark, except her eyes which are a bright blue. Her shirt is a dark brown, as are her skin tight pants. Her hair is styled into a pixy cut, and it is as black as the night sky.
Annora sniffs, clearly disagreeing. I feel like I'm being held under an X-Ray machine. They are all scrutinizing me. I suddenly feel like a hairy savage.
"Well," says Annora with a heavy sigh. "Get the wax."
The assistant that hasn't spoken yet rushes off to get the wax. He has yellow hair that is cropped close to his head, except some parts of his head are shaved. It appears that he created a picture of a tree by shaving parts of his head. He is wearing a yellow suit, and his shoes are the color of a lemon.
He returns with the wax, and they proceed to wax every part of me except the hair on my head. It is quite painful, and when they are done, my skin feels as if I have just taken a bath in scalding water. After that, the three of them begin to pluck any stray hair that they missed with the wax.
Then, the assistant with the dark hair begins to wash my hair with a thick, strong-smelling liquid. She massages it into my scalp. She is pressing so hard, it feels like she has iron fingers. Then, she rinses it out and wraps it up in a towel. She walks me over to the chair in front of a mirror. I sit down, and the yellow haired assistant comes over and whips the towel off my head. He proceeds to yank a brush through my hair so hard, I wonder if there will be any hair left for him to style.
Then he puts a foul smelling gel into my hair, and says, "This will enhance the color of your hair, and give it more luster! You will need to sit here for about an hour while it sets in."
I nod, and he leaves. After about 20 minutes, Annora walks in. She gives me an odd look and sits down on the bed, still staring at me.
"I just saw your token," she says. "It was...unusual. My friend, Jessalyn, does the screenings for the District 3 tokens. She recognized it for what it is. Now, both of us have a firm belief that the Hunger Games are horrible. We find it sick how every year 23 children die horrendous deaths. So, we have decided to keep your secret. But know this. If they catch you using it, we are all dead. Me, Jessalyn, everyone at the screening facility, your entire family, all of your friends, and you. Do you understand? The fate of all of us lies in your hands."
I nod, and say, "I understand. I won't mess it up, I swear. I'll make it convincing."
"You'd better. I'll help you come up with a plan, so that you don't kill all of us with your stupidity."
Normally, I would have a retort to someone calling me stupid, but the situation is too serious. Also, Annora is not someone that I want to mess with.
"Well, I'll leave you alone now. I have better things to do than sit with a slow 14 year old," Annora says as she gets up. Just as she's about to go out the door, she adds, "Don't mention this to anyone. Least of all your mentor. She will tell the Capitol anything you say."
She stalks out of the room, leaving me with my thoughts.
This is messed up. My stylist and some woman who screens the tokens, people who aren't supposed to care about my survival are intent on keeping me alive. Kilee, who is supposed to train me to stay alive, is willing to sell me out to the Capitol. I guess people aren't always as they seem.
The yellow and dark haired assistants come back in, and they wash my hair again to get the smelly gel out. They brush it and dry it with a huge silent hair dryer. They are giving me sympathetic looks in the mirror. I try to ignore it. Sympathetic people annoy me. They're not the ones going into the arena. They get to sit here, pampered. Anyways, they do my hair up into a tightly coiled bun on the side of my head.
"We'll leave you now. Annora will be in momentarily to get you all dressed up, and then there's the tribute parade! We won't be seeing you again. Good luck."
"Okay, bye," I say. I honestly don't care whether I see these people again. They are just shallow Capitol people.
Annora walks in, heels clacking loudly on the tile floor. She's wheeling a cart with a rack on it. There's some kind of silver, geometric costume hanging from the rack.
"Since District 3 is the technology district, I tried to go for something modern and sleek," she says as she removes the costume from the rack.
There are silver pants that shimmer in the florescent light. There is a silver top with heavy-looking shoulder pads. The shoulder pads are made of what appears to be chain mail. There is a head piece that is the same shade of silver as the pants. It has silver geometric shapes protruding off of it in seemingly random places. It looks like what I've always imagined the insides of a computer to look like, except all jumbled up. There are also knee-high books that have silver swirls all over them. As far as the District 3 costumes that I've seen, it's among the better ones. One year, a stylist had the bright idea to glue some random computer parts together, coat them in glitter, and then somehow attach them to the tributes. Their "costumes" started to fall apart halfway through the tribute parade. They were standing there trying to hold their flimsy costumes on so that they were not stark naked in front of all of Panem.
I take off the paper gown, and put on the pants and boots. Annora insists that she help me with the shirt, she doesn't want me to mess up my hair. Then, she leads me to the chair where they cut my hair.
She barks, "Brittlyn, she's ready." A tiny girl, no older than 19 rushes in. She would only come up to my shoulder, and that's with the 3-inch heals that she is wearing. Her outfit is entirely red. A deep shade of red, not quite burgundy, but close. It looks like blood. Fitting. She is wearing a tight dress that reaches to her ankles. It is simple, except for the sleeves. They are huge. They are puffed and ruffled, and seem to swallow her small form. She has blonde hair, so fair that it is almost white. It is pulled up into an extremely tight bun on the top of her head. She has a large amount of red eyeshadow, and red lipstick. The rest of her pale face appears white as paper in contrast.
"I'm Brittlyn, and I'll be doing your makeup," she says meekly. She keeps darting glances at Annora, terrified to mess up.
She pulls out a drawer on the vanity, and extracts a large box. She opens it, and inside are all sorts of cosmetics. Eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, foundation, lipstick, in all the colors you could imagine. It's a bit overwhelming. She pulls out a small brush and goes to work.
By the time she is done, I'm glowing
Literally, since she dusted my entire face with silver glitter. She has used silver eyeshadow, and black eyeliner. My dull green-blue eyes stand out. She has used some kind of foundation to emphasize my cheekbones, and covered up any imperfections with makeup. For the first time in my life, I look striking.
"That should do it," says Brittlyn, with yet another nervous glance at Annora.
Annora says, "Yes, you may go."
Brittlyn scurries out of the room as fast as her 3-inch heels will carry her.
Annora put my headpiece on me, and secures it with some large hairpins.
She stands up and says, "Come on. We'll get you to the loading area. Do not talk to any of the other tributes except Myron. I don't want you making any enemies that will kill you before you get a chance to fake your death."
She walks out of the room, and I follow her, waking stiffly in my new costume. We walk down the hall and out the main door. Annora is walking very quickly to another building, and I'm having to jog to keep up with her. We reach two huge, ornate doors.
Annora walks swiftly into the building, into a large, airy room. She turns down a hallway, and takes me to a big room bustling with tributes, standing in the chariots. There seem to be about a dozen in here so far. I go and get into mine, and look around the room.
I see two tributes in costumes that can only be from District 1, they're pink, frilly, and sparkly. The girl is beautiful, and has long blond hair. They boy looks malicious, and is staring around the room hungrily.
There are also two tributes in metal helmets and chest plates. District 2, if I had to guess. The boy is huge and muscular, standing with his arms crossed, evaluating the competition. The girl is small, shorter than me, but much more muscular. She flips her long brown hair and begins talking to the boy.
There's also a pair of tributes that can only be from District 11. They're wearing overalls and some kind of fruit on their headpieces. The girl is tiny, about a foot shorter than I am. She can't be older than 12. I feel badly for her, it's never fair when a 12 year old is reaped. The boy huge, and next to the ting girl he looks like a giant. He is at least a foot taller than me, with huge, muscular arms. However, he seems much more gentle than the boys from District 1 or 2. He is talking softly to the tiny girl with a kind expression on his face.
The tributes from District 12 are dressed in black jumpsuits. Not particularly impressive, but District 12 costumes rarely are. The girl looks to be 16 or 17, with a fierce expression on her face. The boy is about the same age, with blonde hair and a stocky build.
The other tributes include a small, redheaded boy from District 4 with a cocky attitude. He won't make it long. The tributes from District 10, dressed in cowboy hats and flannel shirts, and looking nervously around. There's a redheaded girl from District 5 who is gazing around the room coolly and without interest, as if observing a group of monkeys.
Myron still hasn't arrived, and if he doesn't soon, I will be in the chariot by myself. Almost all of the tributes are here, there seems to be about 20 now.
Myron finally arrives, escorted by his good-natured escort. He climbs into the chariot next to me without saying a word. He crosses his arms and stares around the room sullenly until he spots the tributes from 1 and 2. Then he stands up straighter and gazes admitting at them. Suck up. He just wants to be in their little group so that they won't immediately kill him. They pay him no attention, which I'm sure disappoints him.
At this point, all the tributes have arrived, and are standing in their chariots. All of the stylists are talking to the tributes. Annora and Fletcher walk over.
Fletcher smiles, and says, "Wave to the crowd, and if they throw roses or other flowers at you, try to catch them. Don't bend over though, that's less time for them to see you. You need them to see you as much as possible, since they'll be sponsoring you. You don't have to smile, just wave. Okay?"
Myron and I nod, and Annora and Fletcher walk away. The horses pulling the chariots suddenly stand still. Then, two doors at the other end of the room open, and the District 1 chariot exits the room. The blonde girl and the malicious looking boy are smiling and waving to the crowd graciously. The District 2 chariot pulls out next, and the big blonde boy and the dark haired girl wave to the crowd, except their expressions are fierce and serious. Now it's time for our chariot.
With a lurch, it pulls forward. The horses trot out the doors, and suddenly, the lights are blinding. It is very loud. There is a pathway down the center of the stadium. That's where we are being pulled. On either side of the huge pathway, there are thousands of Capitol citizens. All of them are yelling and screaming and waving flags, flowers, and banners.
I wave to the crowd, trying to keep my expression calm but fierce. I can't seem weak, lest I get killed before I can use my shock device. Myron is also waving to the crowd. Then they start throwing flowers at the chariots. I try to catch them, but I have very bad hand-eye coordination. Myron had managed to catch several, and he thrusts one into my hand. I hold it up, and the crowd screams and grins, as if I've caught the very rose that they threw.
Finally, we read the end of path. Here, it widens into a large circular shape. The chariots for District 1 and 2 have pulled up around the front edge of the circle, and ours follows. The tributes from District 2 are staring at us with analytical gazes. Myron stands up straight, trying to look tough.
In a few seconds, the District 4 chariot pulls up next to us. The cocky red-haired boy is still waving to the crowd, even though everyone else has stopped. The girl is standing completely still, looking awestruck.
We stand there for a few minutes, I suppose so that the Capitol people can get a nice, long look at us. Then, the Chariots circle around, and I get a good look at the other tributes. None of them look particularly striking. I look at this massive screen on the other end of the path, and it is replaying footage from moments ago. It appears that the District 12 tributes were lit on fire. The cameras were only focused on them, which I'm sure thrills the other tributes. It looks like they just made themselves a lot of enemies.
We reach the doors, and the horses trot back into the room. Our stylists are waiting to get us off the chariots.
"You did very well," says Fletcher. "Although," he says with a wink to Myron. "You might not want to suck up to the Careers so much. It doesn't make you look tough, it makes you look like you're trying too hard."
Careers. I guess that's what the District 1 and 2 tributes are called. Anyways, Fletcher has a point. He is making himself look like an even bigger idiot than he already does.
Myron sneers and stalks off towards a door.
Annora snorts, and says, "That would be the storage closet."
Myron turns a bright shade of red. He has just embarrassed himself in front of the Careers. Serves him right. He turns and stalks out of the correct door.
"Does he even know where he's going?" I ask.
"Doubt it," says Annora, still smirking.
She and Fletcher walk out the door, and I follow.
As we are walking, Annora says, "So, tomorrow is your training day. I don't want you showing off your... skills." At this, she gives me a meaningful look. She must be talking about my technology skills. That way they won't suspect that I have anything like the shock device. "They will know what to look for. It's better to take them by surprise. So, try something that you haven't done before. You don't look particularly strong, so maybe an obstacle course. Throw some spears. Do what you don't do best."
"Okay, but what about for the individual sessions with the Gamemakers? I ask. We've reached our suite. Myron is not here, so I guess he didn't know where he was going. "Should I show them what I can really do?"
"Sure," says Fletcher, at the same time that Annora says, "Absolutely not."
Annora quickly interjects, "You want to find something that you're moderately good at, but don't reveal your true skills."
Fletcher gives her a suspicious look. Then, he shakes his head and says, "Do what you want, I can't stop you."
Once he has left the suite, Annora says, "Don't show them. They'll get suspicious, and monitor you closely. Okay?"
I nod. She walks out of the suite, leaving me alone in the entry hall. I stand there, thinking about the enormity of what I have to do. However, I'm not alone for long. I hear high heels clacking up the front steps, and the door opens.
"And then I told her that her hat was beautiful and she shouldn't worry! She looked stunning, she just thought she was underdressed for the occasion!" Shanna is saying enthusiastically to a very bored looking Kilee.
"Yeah, very interesting," says Kilee rudely. "I have to go and take a shower." She stalks off without another word.
"Darling, come with me. We will get you out of that costume for dinner!" Shanna says, becoming me over to my room. We go in, and I find that my bed has been made, and the clothes and towel I had left on the floor have been put away. Must have been an Avox.
Shanna snaps her fingers at the Avox that was waiting silently outside the door, and she comes in.
"Help her take this off," Shanna directs. "And then you can put it away." The Avox nods mutely.
Shanna leaves, and the Avox starts by removing the pins that were holding the headpiece on. Then, I put my arms up and she helps me get the bulky shoulder pads and shirt off. I pull off the shiny pants and boots. The Avox gathers up all of the clothes and leaves the room without another word.
I look in the closet to find something to put on. I find a long-sleeved grey shirt and some cotton pants. I pull those on, and go to the bathroom to take out my hair. It takes me 15 minutes to remove all the pins from my hair. Then, I go out into the dining room, and there is dinner on the table. It's basically the same thing as last night. Me, Shanna, and Kilee eat in silence. Myron still hasn't arrived yet.
Shanna breaks the silence by saying, "So, Kilee, darling, have you been giving Amber lots of good advice?"
Kilee gives me a calculating look, and says, "Yes, we talked a lot after you went to bed last night."
Liar. She doesn't care whether I live or die. She just wants me to get out of her life so that she can go back to her nice Capitol life. I've never heard of a mentor being this way. Then again, I haven't spoken to any victors.
"That's wonderful!" exclaims Shanna. "I'm so glad. I hope that you do win, darling. I think you have a chance!"
There she goes with the 'darling' again. Capitol pet. At least she seems to be doing her job and talking to us, unlike Kilee.
The front door opens, and Myron storms in.
"There you are, darling! Where were you?" Shanna asks.
"Walking," replies Myron. He walks over to the table and grabs a few sandwiches, then stalks off to his room.
Shanna sighs, and Kilee rolls her eyes. Then, they continue eating as if nothing happened. I do the same.
We finish eating, and Shanna stands up and says, "Well, darling, you should be getting to bed. You have a long day of training tomorrow."
My stomach flips. I am dreading having to try the obstacle course and spear throwing and other forms of combat. I never have before, and I know I'll make a fool of myself. I guess that's the point, not to show my skills with technology or medicine or make myself appear as a threat.
I walk to my room. A soft nightdress had been laid onto my bed, and I put it on. I climb into the soft bed, and try to think of what I can do tomorrow to not make myself look like a total fool. Spear throwing, I can barely throw a pen across the room. Sword fighting, maybe... If I can lift the sword and swing it in the right direction. Archery is a maybe. I can do the survival skills, I suppose. Rope tying, poisonous plant identification, fire starting. I'm quite good at plant identification. Although, if all goes well, I won't have to use any of those. Nevertheless, I still have to look and train like a normal tribute. I have to pull this off. I have to.