My Prep team is late. I sit on the tiled white floor of the makeover bathroom and wait. There's some kind of easy-listening musique playing softly through the speakers, although I can't seem to locate where exactly the speakers are. Probably nanotechnology. I learned about that in school.
I hear giggles down the hall. My prep team must be here. Two silly-looking women come in. They're the weirdest looking people I have ever seen.
Both of them have neon rose skin and silver tatouages around their eyes. One of them has yellow hair. It's not blonde- it's too bright to be blonde. She looks like several lemons decided they would run through limonade and bright yellow dye, mate with a canary, and create her hair.
The other's hair is as rose as her brightly-colored body, but what really draws my attention is her nails. They are at least six inches long, and covered in arc en ciel stripes and glitter.
Canary-lemon hair lady cheerfully warbles, "Hello! I suppose you're ARIELLE! I'm Astrid, and this," she says, gesturing to rainbow-nails-lady, "Is Estella!" She pronounces it es-TAY-uh.
They set to work. First I am drenched in a tub smelling of too-sweet lavender while they scrub every speck of dirt and bead of sweat off my body. Then, I stand on a towel while they dry me and scrub me with some kind of gritty substance that leaves me feeling raw. Then they repeat the foamy lavender bath. Astrid babbles on the whole time about old Games and gives me useless pieces of conseil a baby could figure out, the most useless of which was, "Be careful not to die."
Then they take strips of wax and sit me down in a dentist-style chair while they rip every bit of hair off my body. Then, they turn their attention to my hair. They first lead me to a machine that, when I place my hand on it, runs some kind of electric current through my scalp, and my hair instantly dries and detangles itself. Then Estella sets to work with a bottle of Hairspray and surprising nimbleness for someone with nails of that length, and fixes my hair into a simple but flawless ponytail at the base of my head.
"Good," declares Astrid. "you're finished. OH, JOT!" she calls. This "Jot" must be my stylist.
The door opens. A man walks in. The first word that pops into my head? Ink. He has close-cropped deep black hair along with a tidy beard and mustache. He wears an inky-black tank haut, retour au début and knee-length black cutoffs. His skin is fair, but he has so many tatouages that it is barely visible. The only place on his body that isn't tattooed is his face, which gives it a rather striking appearance, if I do say so myself. His eyes are a stunning deep blue. He smiles at me.
"Hello, Arielle. Ready to get started?"
I nod. He looks me over, then smiles. "I guessed right. The costume I designed WILL fit toi perfectly.
"Costume?"
"For the tribute parade."
"Ok. So what will I be wearing?"
He smiles. "You'll see. Let's go have lunch."
---------END OF CHAPTER FIVE-----------
I'm just going to stop committing to deadlines, because I'm very bad at keeping track of time. So... suivant chapter comes out sometime suivant week.
I hear giggles down the hall. My prep team must be here. Two silly-looking women come in. They're the weirdest looking people I have ever seen.
Both of them have neon rose skin and silver tatouages around their eyes. One of them has yellow hair. It's not blonde- it's too bright to be blonde. She looks like several lemons decided they would run through limonade and bright yellow dye, mate with a canary, and create her hair.
The other's hair is as rose as her brightly-colored body, but what really draws my attention is her nails. They are at least six inches long, and covered in arc en ciel stripes and glitter.
Canary-lemon hair lady cheerfully warbles, "Hello! I suppose you're ARIELLE! I'm Astrid, and this," she says, gesturing to rainbow-nails-lady, "Is Estella!" She pronounces it es-TAY-uh.
They set to work. First I am drenched in a tub smelling of too-sweet lavender while they scrub every speck of dirt and bead of sweat off my body. Then, I stand on a towel while they dry me and scrub me with some kind of gritty substance that leaves me feeling raw. Then they repeat the foamy lavender bath. Astrid babbles on the whole time about old Games and gives me useless pieces of conseil a baby could figure out, the most useless of which was, "Be careful not to die."
Then they take strips of wax and sit me down in a dentist-style chair while they rip every bit of hair off my body. Then, they turn their attention to my hair. They first lead me to a machine that, when I place my hand on it, runs some kind of electric current through my scalp, and my hair instantly dries and detangles itself. Then Estella sets to work with a bottle of Hairspray and surprising nimbleness for someone with nails of that length, and fixes my hair into a simple but flawless ponytail at the base of my head.
"Good," declares Astrid. "you're finished. OH, JOT!" she calls. This "Jot" must be my stylist.
The door opens. A man walks in. The first word that pops into my head? Ink. He has close-cropped deep black hair along with a tidy beard and mustache. He wears an inky-black tank haut, retour au début and knee-length black cutoffs. His skin is fair, but he has so many tatouages that it is barely visible. The only place on his body that isn't tattooed is his face, which gives it a rather striking appearance, if I do say so myself. His eyes are a stunning deep blue. He smiles at me.
"Hello, Arielle. Ready to get started?"
I nod. He looks me over, then smiles. "I guessed right. The costume I designed WILL fit toi perfectly.
"Costume?"
"For the tribute parade."
"Ok. So what will I be wearing?"
He smiles. "You'll see. Let's go have lunch."
---------END OF CHAPTER FIVE-----------
I'm just going to stop committing to deadlines, because I'm very bad at keeping track of time. So... suivant chapter comes out sometime suivant week.
