"Ouch!" I quietly whimper as one of Capitol ladies in front of me plucks a single hair from my right eyebrow.

"Sorry sweetie," she replies with absolutely no apology at all. "It's just that we're readying you for the chariot parade."

"I know." I mutter.

The next ten minutes are silent, in which I spend my time watching my decorators wash and comb my hair, rub a handful of cream over my awkward bare limbs, and-here's the weird part-sprinkle black dust into my hair. It's a strange combo: Dark powder sitting contentedly in beige tresses. Then, my prep team begins clipping nails with little bird-Well, not just any bird but a mockingjay of course-designs onto my fingers.

Finally, a lady says, "You are ready for Sparkle."

"Thank you," I reply. "What are your names, by the way?"

"Colette," she says with a grin. "And those two are Skye," she gestures to a short person with long blue hair that reaches to her heels. "And Charm." The last girl who's wearing her curly lavender hair in two space buns waves. Then, they all exit out a door.

A minute later, my stylist hops in. "Hi there!" he says. "This place is nice, isn't it? Considering it was built as a new recreation center for tributes like you just in time for the Games, out of the ashes of District Twelve? Didn't you think this place stood out so much when you arrived here?"

"Yeah." I say, examining him. My stylist looks like a young man of about twenty-years-old, with crazy dyed lime green hair that sticks out of his head in round little clumps like popsicles, a pink mustache, and the outfit of an ice cream man. It's surprising how such a crazy looking person can actually talk normally, contrary to the great accent that most Capitol people-Not me, mainly the citizens-use.

"So," he beams proudly. "Since your mentor is Katniss, your outfit will be black, have coal dust, and look like that of a mockingjay." I already figured out the last part, thanks.

He walks into a nearby closet and grabs a clothes bag. "My name is Hiro, by the way." Hiro. Okay, I like that. It's a decent Capitol name.

I look at the bag, trying to guess what's inside. Is it a suit? A dress? If it's a dress, please don't tell me it's a sparkly, frilly dress.

"Well?" Hiro asks. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Oh yeah, of course." I hop off the bed and grab the heavy leather bag, unzipping the silver zipper.

What I pull out is way better than the outfit I imagined in my mind. Still, I turn it around to the backside, and flip the dress in the air to see what will happen, which is nothing.

"You sure are suspicious." my stylist mutters. "Well, there's a room behind the closet in there. Go change."

Wow, that's unusual. I thought that the stylist would help put the outfit on the tribute or something, but this way is much better; It's less awkward.

Walking through the closet and into a changing room, I carefully slip the dress on, and look at myself in a mirror. What I see actually makes me gap at my appearance. I've never looked this nice before; all the other things I've worn had so many laces and ruffles that you could hardly see my face.

I must have spent an eternity looking at myself, because the next thing I hear is a voice booming through the speakers. "Tributes, get ready to mount your chariots in five minutes."

Running out quickly, I accidentally crash into Hiro, who's standing there with an amused expression. "I was planning to do some other stuff, but I guess I'll just have to go with the original." He takes out a box of dark makeup and starts dusting my eyelids and cheekbones, then quickly curling my hair with really hot pieces of iron.

"Okay, where's the chariot?" I ask when he finally steps aside to look at me.

"You're not ready yet," Hiro raises an eyebrow. "You really thought you'd step on a dusty old chariot without shoes?"

I look down at my bare feet with a blush. "Whoops."

"'Whoops' is right." He grabs a pair of small heels off to the side, and watches as I slip and lace them. "Okay, you're ready."

(A/N: Celestia's outfit looks like the picture below. I drew it, if you're wondering XD)

Grabbing my shoulder, Hiro steers me off into a long dark room where the chariots are waiting as midnight black horses snort and stomp their feet almost impatiently. "You're in the first chariot, and you're gonna stand on the on the front right."

"Wow, you guys seriously planned this out that carefully?" I sarcastically ask after mounting the chariot.

"Yup!" he nods and disappears off into the shadows.

I look back, meeting eyes with the brainy looking tribute who Beetee chose. His face is expressionless, as if he doesn't care what is going to happen, what angle he'll play, how he'll get sponsors. Well, I don't think he'll actually need sponsors; he's probably got everything that will occur in the Games planned in his mind. I turn back.

In front of me is a large room tingling with zapping golden white lights. I stare out at both sides of it that are filled with whispering people, the same ones that greeted me when we stepped off the train.

Soon, the other three tributes Katniss is mentoring join me. Alistair is standing next to me on the left, while Brooke and Benjamin are behind us. I grip the chariot railing tightly, hoping that I won't fall off when the vehicle starts moving.

Ahead of us, Plutarch, the head gamemaker, is giving the audience a speech from a high balcony. When he's done, he concludes, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the tributes of Katniss Everdeen, the reason these Games exist!"

Before I have time to think about how lame the last line was, the wheels under my feet start rolling. I get showered by brilliant glowing beams, and people begin screaming with joy.

I hear excited cries of my name from the crowds, but it seems to be more of a war cry than a cheer. I even catch a quick glare from a young lady in the front. Whatever. I wave and a cute, perky smile forms on my face.

Wait, is that music playing in the background? I listen hard to it, a chill running down my spine when I hear the lyrics:

"I don't like your little games. Don't like your tilted stage." Wow, how ironic is that? Is this song supposed to represent what us tributes are thinking of what the rebels are doing?

"The role you made me play. Of the fool. No, I don't like you." Yup, I understand, Rebels. We were fools in the rebellion. And now we're playing as puppets in your little show.

"I don't like your perfect crime. How you laugh when you lie."

"You said the gun was mine." Okay I get this one. We were the ones firing bullets of arrogance and hatred at you rebels in the rebellion, before you finally took over.

"Isn't cool. No, I don't like you."

I don't pay attention to the rest of the song, which is basically a poem of wrath towards the rebels at what they're making us do. Behind me, I catch Brooke softly singing the lyrics. (A/N: Yup, it's really catchy. Look What You Made Me Do belongs rightfully to Taylor Swift, by the way.)

A sponsor with curly yellow hair in a braid throws a rose to me, which I catch and examine. It's a white rose, one that represents the Capitol. I stare back at her, and she meets my gaze with a serious nod. She meant to give me that rose.

Thinking quickly, I raise the flower in the air, making sure everyone sees it, and put it close to my heart. This earns a huge round of applause. Alistair, thinking the claps belonged to him, grins even wider and waves crazily.

In front of us is a large red carpet with the emblem of a mockingjay pin on it, (Katniss must love that.) where our chariot stops.

Behind us, the chariot with Peeta's tributes starts rolling forward. A new song plays in the background, and the tributes also receive lots of cheers and claps from the sponsors. When they join us, Enobaria's chariot comes forward.

I stare up at the ceiling, out a window that exposes a clear blue sky. This will be one of the very last times I get a glimpse of the real world before dying.