The Other Slip

Chapter 33

The longer we wait, the more trouble we will be in. And yet here we are, lying around in this lavish apartment along with the woman's rotting corpse for the third day. We have no plan. Our few uncomfortable brainstorming sessions ended in poor results.

My stomach rumbles. Peeta notices, and stands up to go look for food. I follow him to the kitchen, where we open cabinets in search for more food the woman could have hoarded. No luck. Disappointed, I sit back down on the fluffy couch, but Peeta keeps looking. He makes his way to a tall, wood wardrobe, and opens its' mahogany doors. Multi-colored wigs, dresses, shoes, and accessories come pouring out, forming a rainbow puddle at his feet. He sighs, and leans down to pick them all up, but I stop him.

-"Wait,"

I grab a wig, and look out the window to the beginning of the flow of refugees coming in. "I have an idea."

All three pairs of eyes look at me expectedly. I hold a curly pink wig in one hand and a palette of makeup in the other.

-"This might sound odd," I struggle to explain my thoughts, "But what if we go with the pack of refugees? We can dress up like them and follow the flow. Snow will probably be outside his mansion. I can shoot him from there."

Pollux smiles, approving of my idea.

-"That could work," Gale says, "I think it's worth a shot."

We all look to Peeta.

-"Let's do it."

Glitter, powder, fabrics, and designs of all colors fly around us. Peeta and I have picked up on Capitol fashion and makeup after being around stylists so often. So here I am, with a pale green wig on and vine themed makeup, drawing shiny bubbles on Pollux's forehead. I look over to see Peeta designing a dragon onto Gale's face. It's selfish of me to let Peeta work on him, but I couldn't do it. Peeta isn't wearing a wig, but his baby hairs have been styled to stick on his forehead in odd locks. I untied Pollux's hair and curled it, making it look like a lion's mane. Gale wears a bright red wig to match the intricate dragon design. This all feels so ridiculous, but it's necessary. I never thought looking like poison ivy could save my life. Once Peeta and I are finished, we walk back to the large mahogany wardrobe and pick out some coats. It's cold outside this time of year, and everyone is loaded with winter gear. With all of this makeup and hoods on our heads, we should be unrecognizable. I slide on a forest green coat to match, and hand everyone their own. It turns out, Cinna's lessons have paid off.

-"Does everyone have their nightlock pill?" Peeta reminds us before we leave. We all tap the small pockets on our shoulders and nod. "Then let's go."

We walk down the stairs and open the door to the street. Here we go.