I tried to erase the conversation we had just had out of my mind, no relationship, absolutely no dating involved between us. Molly smiled at me, and I tried to keep from going red because of the computer screen. I felt bad for her, but I had absolutely no feelings for her, so it’s her problem not mine.
“Irene let’s go!” Mrs. Hudson yelled loudly, making John jump. That was the thing about Mrs. Hudson, she could yell louder than you’d ever expect her to. Irene came out of the hall, shuffling her feet in protest and looking tired, but as soon as she stepped in the elevator we were off, shooting to the lobby.
“We’ll be late again. So far we don’t look too responsible.” Mrs. Hudson groaned. I felt their eyes on me because of the whole coffee thing, but I didn’t see it as of much of a crime as they did. We rode the train back to the stylists, and this time I got to come with them to approve measurements and stuff. I had no interest in measurements, but it was an opportunity to talk to John, and when given a choice between talking to him or talking to that Greg guy, the choice was obvious. Besides, I’m sure he’d rather I was there to keep him company anyway. We went into the back rooms where we stole the clothes back, and they Molly gave me a magazine and pointed out the nearest chair, like I was a child that needed to be occupied. There were two platforms in the middle of the room, John was told to stand on one, and Irene went on the other. They began taking measurements, from the length of their calf to the width of their shoulders. It was unbearably boring to watch, and John started yawning through the whole thing. My eyes darted around the room, not really looking for anything in particular, but I spotted a little bottle labeled Nitrous Oxide. Given my nerdy habits in previous school years, I knew that was actually laughing gas. I looked around, wondering if anyone would notice if I slipped it into my pocket. In the end I decided against it, I had stocked up the drug shoe before we came, I’ll be fine without. And if things get bad, I could always come here and take it if I really needed to. The measurements were done and the people rushed off into another room, where I suppose they’d put the outfits together. The stylists took that as an opportunity to do hair and makeup, since they were probably zip up suits. The room we were in had a hair styling chair and a makeup counter, and plenty of people to work on both tributes at the same time, so all I got to do was watch as they styled them for the parade. After a while that got quite dull, so I flipped through the magazine Molly had given me and looked carelessly though the pictures. It was a fashion magazine, if you’d even call it fashion. I saw it more as mimicking animals and gluing random items to clothes. The people were absolutely insane in the capital, especially since they eat this crap up. I sighed and dropped the magazine on the floor, sometimes I fear for our society.
“Sherlock come over here!” Mrs. Hudson said. I knew there wasn’t anything I could be in trouble for, but her voice as stern probably just because she was in a hurry. According to her, we were off schedule once again.
“What do you think about this shade of gold?” she asked, holding up a palate of eye shadow and pointing to one that looked very bright.
“I don’t know, it looks yellow.” I shrugged. John laughed from the reclined chair.
“Don’t move your face.” The stylist snapped, and he went back to an emotionless state.
“She means would it look good? They have to be lights.” Molly corrected.
“I guess so. I’m not really a part of this operation.” I pointed out.
“We all agree then?” Sara, the head stylist, asked.
“Yes I think so, thank you.” Mrs. Hudson said, handing her back the pallet.
“You’re going to look so pretty.” I said in a mocking voice.
“Keep still!” the stylist demanded, glaring at me to stop encouraging him, so I just went back over to the chair and sat still again. I just got lost in boring thoughts, trying my best to ignore the talking and nauseating smells in the room. I got called over numerous times though, apparently they needed everyone’s opinion before they made any decisions, so had to say yes to the lipstick, blush, even eye liner colors. I knew I had no real input, I didn’t know the difference between any of them, so I decided whatever they all thought was best was probably best. John was slowly but surely turning into a makeup monster, I could barely see his skin after all the blush they added. But it really did look golden, as if his skin was glowing. Irene wasn’t having her makeup done at the moment; they were doing her hair first. Right now it was being washed in some weird sink thing. Apparently it hurt her neck, because she was complaining loudly and whining a lot. John didn’t need his hair done since it was so short; apparently they’d just spray some gold sparkly stuff in it and be done. When the hair and makeup were finally done they looked like mini suns, walking around and glowing with fake illusion light. The jumpsuits were already finished, and to my surprise when they came out they were black and shiny. Apparently they had to be turned on, and they glow like spotlights. The tributes were going to have some type of contact in their eyes to protect them from the bright light, but according to Sara the suits barely get heated at all. The magic of science apparently. I pretended to be interested in the magazine again when I sat back down in my chair, now they were forced to take their clothes off, leaving undergarments of course. Then they stepped into the jumpsuits, got them zipped up and stuff and walked around, testing the fabric and all. Apparently they had short life spans, so they couldn’t test them now, but they knew they worked from numerous testing in the labs. As much as I hated fashion of all types, this was kind of interesting just to see how technical it got. When all of that was done it was almost five ten, so we all took a train to where the parade would be taking place. I took the opportunity to make fun of John for his outfit and makeup because he wasn’t allowed to move very much or move his face. So when I called him the sun from the Teletubbies the most he could do was promise to chop my arms off when we got back. When we got there the place was already crawling with spectators, all excited to see the new tributes. I knew President Snow was somewhere around, and I wasn’t all too excited to hear his Devil’s voice again. That man was seriously twisted; this thing was all his wicked idea, because peace was totally a synonym for children slaughtering each other. We had reserved seats up front, like always. I had brought a little camera for head shots, but I knew there would be no need. Paparazzi would be swarming all entrances and exits. With one last goodbye and good luck to the two tributes, we went to our seats and waited for it to begin. After a while of listening them talk to each other, to me, and to the people around them, the Capital’s anthem started playing and the entire stadium went silent. The first chariot arrived; they were decked out in sparkles and crap like every year. District one wins a lot just because they have the Careers, people who train their whole lives and see the Hunger Games as more of a business opportunity to be rich their whole lives. They nearly always volunteered, so I took a couple of pictures of them. Molly noticed my camera, saying how cute it was that I wanted to save this memory, but I couldn’t tell her about the map we were making since she might use the information to her advantage. We may be the same district, but our tributes were still enemies. The chariots rolled on and on, it got quite boring after a while, but I kept myself occupied by taking the best pictures I could. I knew some of this wouldn’t work since they had so much makeup on; some were barely recognizable as humans. At last everyone gasped, and I knew the Twelve Chariot had arrived. Suddenly it was like someone had driven in a gigantic spotlight, not only did the light come off of them, but all cameras focused on them, projecting on the big screens. They looked truly breathtaking, John was smiling and waving as if he was having so much fun, while Irene was blowing kissed and trying to catch as many roses as she could. I clapped along with everyone else, and John and I made eye contact when he finally found me in the stands. He smiled up at me and I gave him two thumbs up, which made him smile more. When all of the chariots were in place, the lights turned off to not distract people from Snow’s boring speech, which I tuned out to. I knew how it went, so happy to see new people, hope they have a god game, and best of luck, whatever. He was lying about all of it, more like I can’t wait to see you die sort of thing. We left a little bit before he was done, rude, I know, yet don’t care, but we needed to be there when John and Irene were finished. We waited where the chariots went until we heard hoof clops, knowing they were coming in now. Ours was last, but once they jumped off I gave John a bone breaking hug, telling him how fantastic it was and how everyone loved it. Molly attempted to give Irene a hug, but she pushed her away, counting the roses stuffed in both hands as if they actually meant something.
“Did you get pictures?” John asked. I held up the camera with accomplishment.
“Remember, this is our secrets. They’re still the enemy.” I added. He nodded as if he knew that already, but it’s not bad to be too cautious.
“So did everyone like the outfits?” John asked as we were riding the train back to the tribute center.
“Of course they did, all the cameras were on you two.” Mrs. Hudson said happily. John’s smile widened.
“That’s never happened!” he pointed out.
“It was brilliant.” I agreed.
“I’m famous!” Irene said, as if it was her life dream. I didn’t see her as a good person to be famous; obviously it would go straight to her head.
“Everyone there is Irene, the tributes are celebrities.” Molly pointed out. I rolled my eyes at John, who laughed silently. I really hoped Irene didn’t win, not that I wanted her to die or anything, but if she was a mentor District Twelve would be in ruins. We arrived back at the Tribute Center, where everyone was just arriving, so we had to share an elevator with the people of District Five, which meant, to my utter delight, Greg was there.
“Hey Sherlock!” he said happily. The Five people were dressed as waves, and their fabric was hanging off in weird angles and shapes. I knew four was water district, but then I remembered the gigantic dam Five had somewhere, so that must be why they were water. A small boy, probably Jeff, as Greg had mentioned before, looked back and forth at all of the people. He couldn’t be more than thirteen, which made me sad, because I knew he’d be gone in the first day.
“Good job out there, you really stole the audience.” He said, as if that was some type of joke.
“John, this is, Greg, from District Five.” I said, introducing the two in the very crowded elevator.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Greg said with a smile. John looked at me suspiciously, but before he could ask questions the elevator reach floor five, which was their stop. With some goodbyes, some real, and some relived, they were off.
“You have a friend after all!” John pointed out.
“Shut up, he’s not my friend. He sat next to me in the lobby and started talking to me, it’s not my fault.” I pointed out.
“You’re the only one who would get defensive about someone thinking you have a friend.” John decided.
“I do have a friend, but it’s not him.” I defended.
“Who’s you’re friend?” Molly asked with excitement, as if it was going to be her.
“John.” I said, as if that was obvious. My answer seemed to sink both Molly’s and Mrs. Hudson’s hearts, because they both knew that I probably couldn’t say I had a friend in two weeks, after the games were over.