The Hunger Games: Entropy (A Clato Fanfiction: NTI Series, Book 2)

Chapter 36

CLOVE'S POV

“Time’s up! We’re on in five minutes! Places, everyone!” Cleo’s voice echoes throughout the vicinity by means of a microphone.

The time I had to second-guess any of my concerns has just run out.

“Clove!” Leonard’s voice brings my attention back toward the prepping stations. “Heels, darling!” He grins and holds up a set of black shoes with modestly short heels. I return to my station and remove them from his hand.  

“Thank you,” I address him politely and leave without another word. He seems totally oblivious to my anxiety, but it’s probably his job as a stylist to keep emotions from interfering with his work. I don’t want to go out there looking like a garbage heap.

As I slip the shoes onto my bare feet, I’m only reminded of the fact that Leonard froze my face in place. As painful and humiliating as it is to wear a fake smile, I still can’t contort the muscles in my cheeks at all. It’s probably for the better in the long run, but I prefer to have that extra bit of freedom when it comes to movement.

Before heading to my position in the procession, I quickly check myself in the mirror. I must admit that Leonard did a good job. He didn’t do anything too flashy, but at least he didn’t leave any imperfections in my skin tone. On the other hand, I’m still not proud of what he did to my face and I have no doubt that he’ll do it again. Regardless, it looks exactly like me and not much more. It’s just the way I want to look when I face a crowd. I don’t need the Capitol making me look like a clown to please people.    

“4 Minutes!” Cleo’s voice echoes, re-directing my attention span. I take a deep breath and force myself to put my mind on the one thing that made me miserable for the last few months: Our first appearance in the districts.

No matter how frightening it sounds, I know what I must do.

I make my way past the grooming station and ready myself to take my position in the back of the line of the procession to the center of the stage. The District 12 officials have already taken their place at the front of the line, blocking the square and the light outside from my sight. Brutus and Enobaria have already taken their positions in front of me. Cleo and Cato still aren’t in position yet.

As I plant myself at the back of the line, Enobaria turns around and to face me.

“Your talk,” she orders, handing me two pieces of paper.

“Took you long enough,” I gruff at her. I waited to get these back for too long.

She shakes her heads at me, not saying anything at first. She maintains a neutral, almost unmoved expression. I expected her to flare up at me and explode, but she maintains her composure and chooses not to yell at me, oddly enough.

“There’s no point in fighting you anymore,” she sighs, almost gasping for extra air. I can tell that she’s running out of steam from her raspy breathing.  “It would be nice if you would at least show some gratitude for all the effort I put into making this work.”

“Still, you didn’t have to leave me hanging for two months,” I try to remind her, as if she didn’t get the message earlier.

“Just forget about it,” she sighs again. The muscles in her face and shoulders relax as she takes a deep breath and allows herself to return to her senses. “It’s all you, Clove,” she admonishes. “Just do what feels right.” Her response surprises me, considering that she demanded more respect a few seconds ago.

It’s probably for the best that we just leave each other alone until we finish our first appearance.    

“Clove?” Enobaria rotates toward me again. “We’re on live TV, so don’t screw up. Just like rehearsal.” I nod in confirmation, well aware of the stakes and the task at hand. She turns back away from me and realigns herself next to Brutus.