The Hunger Games: Foxface

Chapter Four

The train finally leaves the thousands of people behind us and we exit this building and arrive to the next one. I can see the walls closing in, but I don’t hear a single thing. The train stops, and I leap for the door. I suddenly want to get off this thing immediately. I try the door, but its locked. I start to panic and feel claustrophobic. I start searching for the emergency unlock switch, but once Sean pulls on my arm I immediately stop.

“Autumn,” he says gently, “listen.” And I do. An announcer is explaining that each car will be emptied separately to avoid any fighting. I guess they want us to stay pretty until it’s time to kill each other. The announcer then says that they will open District 1’s compartment first, and start to move down the districts. At least I’ll be off sooner than District 12. It feels like forever when our door quietly slides open. I bolt out and stop right outside as I wait for Sean.

 We are greeted by a large dome-shaped room. It’s at least 100 feet tall and the sky shows through. My keen eyes notice something off.

“Is that all glass?” Sean asks, look up at the sky.

“No,” I reply. “They’re screens. See, there are no beams of sunlight in relation to where the sun is showing on the screens.”

He nods in response, with eyes full of wonder, and something else. Fear. Definitely fear. Fear of the power the Capitol has. Fear of the Arena. Fear of both dying and living. Suddenly, four people approach us. They explain that they are our beauty team. Sean and I go separate ways to get ready for the parade.

I’m shuffled into a room. It’s all white with a chair in the middle - like a psychotic dentist office. A door, almost silent, swifts open, and a man comes out. He’s extremely calm, while I’m ready to bolt.

“My name is Roberto,” he practically purrs with a harsh accent. Not the Capitol accent, a foreign one. His voice makes my muscles relax. He continues, “These are my assistants, Petunia and Gloria.” He point the the girls left and right of me, respectively. “Please, take a seat. My assistants will prep you.” My designer stalks out, and the assistants gently lead me to my chair.

It’s non-stop chatter. I don’t utter a word, and I don’t have to. Gloria and Petunia have it covered. They talk about the next big face surgery, the excitement of the Games, my “most astonishing beautiful costume of all time”, et cetera. 

“How do you do this?” I whisper.

Silence.

I repeat myself.

“Wha-what, dear?” Petunia stutters. Her small eyes that are usually covered by foot long fake eye lashes are big with confusion. Like how could anyone not want this job.

“Petunia, I think she means how do we continue if our guest doesn’t make it.” Gloria’s voice vibrates against the multiple mirrors in the room. Thank God there is someone who is not oblivious in this room besides me.

“Oh.” Petunia peeps. “Well, it is hard, but we –” She glances at Gloria for emotional support and takes a deep breath, “– we find ways to overcome.”

“I NEED THOSE NEW SHOES THAT EFFIE TRINKET HAS!” Gloria erupts. It wasn’t even a solid ten seconds before they changed the subject. I lie in the chair, waiting as they pull, pluck, weave, wax and infuriate other things as I wait for Roberto. Suddenly, the girls fall quiet and the door opens again.

He’s holding the most ridiculous costume I have ever seen. We are suppost to represent District 5 – power. I basically have a square around my head to represent a solar energy panel.

I’m engulfed in silver squares that shimmer. Instead of showing hydro-electricity, or geology, they wanted to show something that has to be like the sun. Roberto says it’s so people will think I’m as powerful. 

I doubt it.

It’s just as unflattering as it sounds. I look like an idiot. District 7’s (lumber) tree costume from a while ago looked better than these.

Roberto looks me over, and sends me out into the hall. Sean is in an identical outfit and we both burst out laughing. We have a chariot drawn by two white horses. There are no reins so I’m assuming these horses know what they are doing. Sean and I are quickly pushed into the chariot and the horses run out.

There are millions of people itching to get the first look at the new tributes. Caesar Flickerman has blue hair, eyes, and lips (better than crimson like last year). He announces our hideous costumes as we ride out.

Instead of boos and laughter, we are greeted with a thunderous applause. I’m soon realizing that my hand is up in the air, waving fondly to the crowd. Sean and I share a smile, both thinking that the spotlight isn’t that bad at all. We come to a halt next to District 4, in front of President Snow’s podium. I see the other districts joining me. Wait, were they one fire? I do a double take. It’s District 12. Coal. They are on fire. Literally. I’m instantly jealous of their costumes, designer, everything. The girl with the braid was the one I noticed on the train. There’s some dark history with her, and some unusual tension between her and the other tribute. I hope she’s ready for the nightmares that will soon come.

Snow comes out and begins to say his famous “Panem Today, Panem Tomorrow, Panem Forever” speech, including how everyone should be fair and fight hard. It sounds like a friendly boxing match than a fight to the death. I mean, hasn’t he watched the Games before? Doesn’t he know that no one will play fair?

 I sneak glances at 12 along with everyone else. It’s obvious we are all intrigued by their costumes. I’m more interested in her pin – a type of bird, it seems. Soon, the horses take us away, and we arrive at the training tower with our rooms on the 5th floor.

We all take the same elevator as it shoots up to each floor. The only ones talking are the Careers. The poorer districts look a bit woozy since they’ve never been in a fast elevator. Except 12, only their elevator goes down to the mines, which I heard blew up a few years ago. It's obvious that neither of them are enjoying this ride. The worst thing is that they have to go all the way up to their rooms and all the way down to the Training Room. I'm really hoping that they have a chance – in the Training Room and the Arena. The poorer districts never win. And even if they do, their mentors turn into horrifying drunks. For the first time this trip, I'm thankful that Jane isn't chugging down some unknown liquid every hour.