They finally release me and let me wait for Portia. She's my stylist, and from what I hear, she's just as quirky as her clothes. I only had to wait for a few minutes when she arrives into the room, and her eyes light up like I've brought her the most perfect gift.
"Where did they find you?" she asks.
"Under a rock," I say. "I'm a limited edition."
Portia laughs, a bright Capitol trill. She's got pale pink hair and a sense of style that says clown school drop-out. "You're the real deal," she says, looking me over like she can't decide where to start. "They won't know what hit them."
"I was going for not knowing what bit them," I say. "But I'll take it."
She claps her hands, thrilled. "You look Capitol-bred," she says. "But with an edge. Like something mysterious and dangerous."
Dangerous, I can work with. Dangerous keeps you alive.
"Any plans to capitalize on that?" I ask, though I already have a pretty good idea what's coming. If this world is anything like I remember, Cinna's about to make history with some synthetic flames.
"More than you know," she replies, with a smile as wide as her skirt. "Cinna's had some amazing inspirations after we watched the reapings. You wouldn't believe the excitement after both of you volunteered! It was amazing! District 12, of all places, with two volunteers!"
She circles me, lost in her creative vision. "Cinna is Katniss's stylist, but he's the mastermind behind our overall concept. We're partners, you see. And for District 12, coal is always the boring theme."
"Let me guess," I say dryly, playing along. "You're going to cover me in coal dust and send me out naked."
"Oh no, darling. That's been done." She waves her hand dismissively. "We're going with fire."
She then began to encase me in the slick Latex. It squeaks against skin, and leather clings tight as desperation. Black as night with cracks and lines connecting and breaking throughout the whole body suit. Like a map written as tree branches. Exactly like a coal with cracks.
Portia hums in approval. "Hold still," she says, adjusting the fit around my shoulders. "We want it to look like a second skin."
I resist the urge to squirm as she fusses with the suit. It's tight in places I'd rather not think about. "So, what's the big reveal?" I ask, trying to distract myself. "Turn into a human disco ball?"
Portia's eyes twinkle with mischief. "Oh, it's much better than that. You'll see." She steps back, admiring her handiwork. "Now for the finishing touch."
She produces a small remote control from her pocket and presses a button. Suddenly, the suit comes alive. Pure red and orange light races along the cracks, pulsing like veins of electricity. No- like live molten lava. It's subtle at first, then builds in intensity until I'm glowing like some kind of Volcanic god. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, mesmerized by the effect.
"Holy shit," I breathe.
Portia beams. "Isn't it marvelous? The light pulses faster with movement, so when you're on the chariot..." She trails off, practically vibrating with excitement.
I flex my arm experimentally, watching the lava light surge. It's hypnotic, beautiful in a deadly sort of way.
"I expected to burst into flames," I say.
"Oh, Katniss will! Not you, honey." Portia presses the button again and the lights turn off. She handed me the small black button. "Press it when you go."
=====
Portia brings me to the chariot staging area. Cinna and Katniss were already there waiting for us. My stylist shuffles me over to them, looking like the cat who ate the canary and knitted a sweater out of the feathers. She's all Capitol smiles and feather-light encouragement, urging me to make a statement. I plaster on a grin, safe as houses. They want fireworks? I can give them fireworks.
Katniss notices me before we reach them. Her face is a perfect picture of shock.
"What happened to you?" she asks, eyeing me up and down.
"They finally scraped all the dirt off," I say. "Turns out there was a person under there."
"You look great and menacing by the way," I give her a smile, looking at her own black, latex leather body suit. Except she has a translucent cape.
"Do you catch on fire too?" she asks, bringing up one of her hands to show her own button to press.
"Actually- I heard that was only you, sweetheart," I tease, giving her an evil grin. She gives me a gob smacked look. Like I just betrayed her.
"What?" I fake innocence. "I heard from Portia that you're going to be the Girl on Fire and I'm going to be the Boy Who... Glows?" I snort.
Katniss tilts her head, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Glows?"
I shrug. "Hey, I didn't pick the costume. But watch this." I press the button Portia gave me, and the suit comes to life. Red and orange light races along the cracks, pulsing like molten lava. Katniss's eyes widen, genuinely impressed.
"Okay," she admits. "That's pretty cool."
"Right?" I grin. "Now we just have to hope the horses don't get spooked by a human lava lamp."
Cinna steps forward, he looks me over and seems delighted. I can't tell if it's my dimple or the light-up suit. "Are you two ready for this?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," I reply. "And I'm going to guess Katniss feels the same way."
Katniss rolls her eyes, "Let's get this over with."
Portia beams at Cinna, and they exchange knowing looks like parents watching their kids at a talent show. I'm just hoping not to be the act that falls off the stage.
"We're thrilled with how this turned out," Cinna says. "It's going to make quite a statement."
I bet it will. The Capitol loves a show, and we're about to give them one. "Aren't you worried we'll overshadow the other tributes?" I ask, layering on the sarcasm like Capitol makeup.
Cinna just smiles. "That's the idea."
The guy's good, I have to give him that. He's not the least bit rattled by the prospect of too much drama. "I like it," I say, watching Katniss out of the corner of my eye. She looks more nervous than thrilled.
Portia adjusts the fit of my suit and stands back to admire her work. "You're perfect," she says. "Now, let's see how it looks in action."
She made me press the button again, and the lava light surges through the suit. It never gets old. The cracks pulse with red and orange, faster when I move.
I flex my arms, watching the colors race down my sleeves like blood through veins. No doubt about it, this'll turn some heads.
Cinna nods, clearly satisfied. "We thought this look suits you," he explains. "It shows your fighting spirit, like lava flowing from embers."
"Get it? Embers? Ashton Ember?" Portia said giddily, amusing herself.
"I'll take your word for it," I laugh. "I don't do a lot of glowing back in District 12."
Cinna turns his attention to Katniss. "And for you, something pure. Traditional. Like a true coal igniting into fire."
It's a good look. It fits her in more ways than one. Cinna's thought it through, and I'm impressed. Still, she's hesitant. I watch her struggle with it, knowing this is our best chance to win sponsors.
Portia runs through our parade strategy. "Once you're out there, turn the lights on and let the suits do their job."
"You'll be the center of attention," Cinna adds. "Every camera will be on you." Then he turns to Katniss. "The fire will come alive. It shows your bravery burning through fear."
"This is your moment," Portia says, grinning. "Make it count."
I glance at Katniss, who looks ready to chew through steel. "One other thing," I say, knowing it might be a tough sell. "If we're going for the big show, we should do it together."
"Together?" She raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Hold hands, press the buttons at the same time."
Cinna nods in agreement. "It would be a powerful symbol."
Katniss doesn't look convinced. I try another angle. "This isn't just about the Games, remember? We do it right, and we can make a point."
"What kind of point?"
"Allies," I say, dropping the pretense. "One they won't forget."
She's got doubts, but she's not about to back down from a challenge.
"Okay," she says. "Let's do it."
"That's the spirit," Cinna says. Portia claps her hands over excitedly.
The handlers usher us toward the chariot, where the other tributes are already climbing on. We wait our turn, Katniss quiet but resolved. I can almost hear her thinking it over, still wondering if this is the right move.
"Ready?" I ask, watching her carefully.
She nods, more determined than I've seen her all day. "Ready."
"Let's get out there and break some hearts," I say, light enough to cover my own nerves.
We step onto the chariot. It rocks slightly under our weight. Katniss grips the rail like she might want to leap off and run for it, but she doesn't. I watch her, impressed despite myself. I half expected her to bolt, but here she is, facing down the Capitol without flinching. She's tougher than anyone gives her credit for. Maybe even herself.
"Don't look so thrilled," I say. "You'll scare the crowd."
"I thought I was supposed to scare them," she says.
"Good point," I reply. "Give them your meanest look."
"Like this?" She scowls at me.
"Perfect."
She smiled then.
The lights in the staging area dim, signaling the start of the parade. I hear the rumble of chariots ahead of us, the clatter of hooves and then I hear the overwhelming cheers. Portia and Cinna give us final nods of encouragement, then retreat to watch the spectacle.
"Let's go" I say, holding Katniss's hand. It's warm, real. Not just a Capitol production.
She holds on tight, like she means it.
The chariot lurches forward, and I feel a thrill race through me. Now or never. We stare at each other and press the button, and we light up the world. Katniss's cape burst into flames like the one I've seen from the first movie and I light up in a similar kind like the second movie.
When we light up, so does the crowd. They explode in a frenzy of noise and movement, like we've flipped a switch that powers the whole city. The parade route stretches out before us, a riot of colors and lights that races through the heart of the Capitol. We speed down the track, each chariot getting its turn, but the spotlight's on us. The flames on Katniss's cape flare pure orange, blazing so bright it looks like the sun crashed and burned. I hold our hands high and let the light pulse through me, the embers flowing from my suit like molten magic.
I've got to hand it to Cinna and Portia. Their little gimmick is doing its job. It's all anyone can look at, and we're all anyone can talk about. I throw my head back, letting the thrill wash over me like the flood of noise.
It's wild, and it feels even wilder when I glance at Katniss. The fire lights up her face, and she's more alive than I've ever seen her. She was so worried about all this, but now she's in it. Really in it. She tightens her grip on my hand, and I swear I catch a flicker of something like excitement in her eyes. Or maybe just madness.
"I thought you hated this kind of thing!" I shout over the roar, grinning like an idiot.
"I do!" she yells back, but the way her mouth curls tells me she might be lying.
We pass the first set of cameras, and I flash them a winning smile, doing my best impression of someone who's not scared out of his mind. It's a decent act, if I say so myself. The roar intensifies, and it's impossible to tell where the cheers end and the chariots begin. One big jumble of sound and fury, all for us.
The route curves, and we're racing along a path lined with people as far as I can see. A blur of metallic faces and bizarre hairstyles, Capitol citizens in full fan mode. They wave and scream and clamor for attention, some throw expensive items towards us. Jewelries, flowers, etc.
"Don't let go," I say, but it's swallowed by the din.
She nods, understanding. She's not about to let go. Not now.
We streak past, leaving a trail of light behind us. I glimpse some of the other tributes, dressed in getups that are flashy but not enough to steal our thunder. Our chariot charges ahead, the horses in front snorting steam.
I drink it in, all of it. The flash of cameras, the press of the crowd, the wildness that feels like it's in my blood. I've never been on this end of it before.
But I like it.
Katniss, beside me, seems more at ease with every second. It's like she can't help herself. The excitement seeps in, loosening the iron grip she's kept on her fear. I see it melting away like the snow around a campfire.
We fly by a section with fans. They wave, jumping up and down in a frenzy. I wave my free hand and the lights brighten to a fever pitch. The crowd goes even wilder.
This place. I knew it would be extravagant, but seeing it is something else. We've paraded into a city of excess, an explosion of Capitol overindulgence. Giant screens show our images, blowing us up to ten times our size, then twenty. They loop on repeat, cycling through until I'm dizzy from the sight. From every direction, blaring music swells, an anthem of drums and violins and who knows what else.
It's almost too much to take in, like trying to drink from a fire hose. Or a chariot on fire.
We circle the main square, looping around and around like some kind of dizzy carnival ride. I half expect Katniss to get tired of it, to stop playing along. But she doesn't. She meets every stare, every shout, and throws them back with fire of her own.
I can't remember when I last saw someone look so alive.
We're nearing the end of the loop when I spot him. Snow. High up on a balcony, white rose attached on where his heart would be, looking down on it all like a king watching his peasants dance. My stomach clenches, and I think about what Venia and the others told me. No victors. Just Snow's latest power play. His eyes scan the parade with that calculating look, the one that says he's already decided who lives and dies. And we thought our act was risky. This man makes us look like amateurs. He's willing to gamble with all the districts' hope just to prove his control. After his opening speech, the chariots move again and slow as we return to the staging area. Our lights flicker out one last time, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. We did it. Against every odd, we actually pulled it off.
Katniss lets go of my hand, and I feel the absence immediately. We share a look that says a million things. That we're shocked, exhausted, triumphant. That we've got a real shot.
Portia and Cinna are waiting when we dismount. "That was incredible!" Portia says, practically bouncing. "You two stole the show!"
Cinna is more subdued, but I can tell he's thrilled. "I've already had calls from potential sponsors," he says. "They love you."
I watch Katniss, wondering how she'll take this. The way her eyes light up, I know she understands. We might just survive this thing.
Effie rushes over, all frantic excitement and bright colors. "Oh, you guys were just amazing!" she declares, waving her arms. "The best tributes out there!"
Haymitch hangs back, looking impressed despite himself. "Not bad, kids," he says. "Not bad at all."
We follow them inside, still buzzing from the ride. We make it to the elevator, and Effie pushes a button that says "PENTHOUSE" in obnoxiously shiny letters.
"Our accommodations," she announces. "You've truly outdone yourselves."
The elevator zooms upward, and I'm half convinced it's some kind of trick by how fast its going. But when the doors open, we're greeted by a suite that's more extravagant than I even thought possible. It's big enough to fit ten of my house back home, all glass and chrome and plush furniture that looks more like art than anything you'd sit on. The whole place screams Capitol excess, and it's all ours.
Haymitch flops onto a couch, already raiding the mini bar. Effie clicks her tongue but seems too happy to really care. She bustles around, making notes and talking a mile a minute about interview schedules.
"We have a long way to go," she says. "But with that kind of reception, you're well on your way to sponsors!"
Haymitch raises a bottle in salute. "Just keep it up, and you might even make it home" he says, like it's a toast.
Katniss looks out at the view, her expression distant but not as lost as it was this morning. She's here, in the game, and it's something to see.
I join her, watching the city lights. They shimmer in the distance like fireflies. "Crazy day," I say.
"Yeah." She nods, not tearing her eyes away. "Guess we did okay."
"You think?" I tease, nudging her gently.
She gives me a rare, sideways smile "Don't push it."
Haymitch calls us over, still half sprawled across the couch. "Tomorrow we hit training," he says, more serious now. "Use your time wisely."
"Scout potential allies," I say, nodding.
"And enemies," he adds. "Both sides are gonna want a piece of you after today."
Effie fusses with her schedule, mumbling about prep teams and stylists. "The phone hasn't stopped ringing!" she exclaims. "You're the talk of the Capitol."
"Doesn't take much to get these people talking," Haymitch says. "But you kept them talking, and that's the trick."
Portia and Cinna wave goodbye, heading off to celebrate their handiwork. "Rest up!" Cinna calls as they leave. "You made quite an impression."
The rest of us settle in for dinner. I thought nothing could match the opulence of the suite, but the food gives it a run for its money.
Katniss hesitates at the spread, then finally loads a plate. I follow her lead, watching to see if she's regretting anything.
"So this is what being a star feels like," I say, grinning around a forkful of something that's probably extinct back home.
Katniss doesn't reply, but she doesn't look miserable, either. I'll take that as a win.
Haymitch digs into his food, remarkably sober now that he's talking strategy. "Stick together," he says, jabbing a piece of meat for emphasis. "You're the target now."
"Don't have to tell me twice," I say. "We'll be joined at the hip."
Effie claps her hands. "Wonderful teamwork!"
Haymitch looks directly at Katniss. "What we did today, it's good. But it's only the start."
She nods, eyes focused and determined. She's in this with me, all the way.
We're almost done eating, and I see Katniss relaxing for the first time since we got here.
I watch her, trying to gauge if she'll last through this pressure cooker without snapping. I've seen it happen before, to people with less to lose. "Crazy day," I repeat, like saying it twice might make it real.
She looks up, meeting my gaze. It's a long look, a knowing look. The kind that says maybe, just maybe, she trusts me.
"Yeah," she says softly. "But we'll make it."
"You sound sure of that," I say, curious.
She doesn't flinch. "You better be, too. Because I can't afford to think otherwise."
"Wouldn't dream of anything else," I reply.
We finish dinner, and I'm surprised how at home I feel. Not the Capitol suite, but with them. All of them. It's a feeling I didn't expect, and one that gives me hope.
Hope that we can change this.
Hope that it isn't too late.