Normally, repetitive noises don't annoy me. They drive Gemma crazy. I could spend a day in a clock shop with all the clocks ticking at different times and a tap dancing crew all around me and not have a problem. But with the rocking of the train, Samuel Rictorvale's frequent unintelligible muttering, and Lexus Pecuniam tapping and twitching and running his eyes all over the train car, it was hard for me to stay calm.

"Would you just cut that out?" I asked irritably.

Lexus looked at me and smirked. "It makes you distracted. Annoyed. Can't help it, I'm born this way."

I scowled. That seemed to just encourage him.

"Got any plans?" he asked. "Strategies, goals?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." But honestly, I had no idea what I was going to do. My parents told me to pick off the weaker ones at the Cornucopia without getting seriously wounded, collect some good stuff, and retreat to hide. Wait for the others to come to me and then kill them. But they didn't know about my decision.

I stood up and walked back to the compartment with the televisions where the reapings from other districts were being shown. I closed the door to prevent Lexus from following me and leaned against it.

"Aww, that's too bad," said one of the commentators on the TV. I turned around and saw that the reaping showing was from District 9, the grain district.

"Congratulations to Millet Sinoa and Robur Sinoa, District 9's Hunger Games tributes!"

The camera zoomed in on the faces of the two tributes as they shook hands. The boy, Robur, looked about my age. He had slightly wavy brown hair and brown eyes. The girl, a twelve-year-old, looked similar enough to be his sister. Then I realized that she was his sister.

"Well, that doesn't seem fair," I said to myself. Millet was crying, and Robur looked close to doing the same.

"Don't feel sorry for them," said a voice behind me. It was Golde, one of our mentors. She was sitting in one of the chairs by the window, her legs crossed at the ankles and her metallic-looking yellow hair done up in a complicated bun on top of her head.

"What?" I asked.

Golde gestured to the television. "Don't feel sorry for the other tributes. They'll be trying to kill you. In the arena, you're gonna have to shut out all emotion, all thought. Your goal is to kill, and to not be killed. The ones who regret, who think they have to be 'morally right'—those are the ones that are dead within the first hour."

I swallowed and nodded as the train slowed to a stop in the station. Golde and I went back up to the first car. Lexus smirked at me as I passed him, and I returned the smirk with a sneer.

I looked out the window and saw some Capitol people gawking and pointing excitedly at the train. We exit the train and enter the station in a single file line—Samuel Rictorvale first, stepping out to greet his other friends and family from the Capitol. Golde and our other mentor, Platinum, came next; and Lexus and I came out last. Golde grabbed my shoulders and steered me towards a large building which I assumed to be the Remake Center, where our stylists were waiting. Samuel finished his brief catch-up with his fellow Capitol-dwellers and followed us to the stylist's building.

When I entered the room where my prep team was waiting, all three of them gasped. I looked down at myself self-consciously—I was wearing a simple light blue shirt and a short ruffled white skirt, nothing much. My hair was in a plain ponytail at the base of my neck.

"What?" I asked.

"Such simplicity!" one of them cried. She had hot pink hair and swirling orange tattoos all over her face and was wearing an orange frock that was anything but simple, with its pointed shoulders and asymmetrical sleeves and choppy, layered skirt.

One of the prep team members, a man with spiky green hair and neon yellow eyebrows, fingered my hair. "Silky, dark, bit of curl—"

"My dear, you are near flawless," chirped the other man. His hair was very curly, and blue, and his skin had a magenta tint.

"A bit short," said the woman, standing up on her tiptoes.

"The perfect height!" argued the purple man.

"She doesn't even need us!" said the green-haired man.

The woman gasped. "We haven't told her our names yet! How frightfully rude of us!"

All three of them told me their names at once, but I could not decipher any of them. I asked them to repeat them, one at a time. Calliope was the woman, the purple man was Ostrinus, and the other man was Portim.

"I'm Diamond," I said.

Calliope giggled. "We know!"

"We saw how amazing you looked at the reaping," said Portim. "That silver dress was absolutely stunning."

"And who did your hair for that day?" Ostrinus asked.

My hand strayed to my simple ponytail. "My mother."

"It was perfection!" Calliope squealed. "It was magnificent!"

"And the other tribute alongside you—you're silver and gold! It's all so perfect!"

Calliope's squealing and all of their excitement and chatter made me think of the time when I had been ill and had to stay home from school for a week, and the moment I returned Gemma was spewing with news of what had happened in my absence—mainly gossip. The only differences here were that there were three brightly colored and painted Gemmas, and all the gossip was about how perfect and beautiful I looked.

"Wait until Alarie gets to you!" Calliope shrieked delightedly. "She and Tamin are going to make masterpieces of you two!"

I pursed my lips. Gemma would just be eating this up, excited to be the center of attention. I wished I could have her take my place. At least, for the public performance. In the arena, I would want to be replaced by someone who would actually do well. Someone who would actually fight.

A woman who I could only guess was Alarie sauntered into the room. The prep team scuttled out.

Alarie was a tall woman who looked like she was in her twenties, but something told me she was much older. Surgically de-aged. Her hair was long, straight, and bright crimson. Her skin was unnaturally pale.

"Diamond Coroll," she said stonily. Her Capitol accent was strong, the same as the prep team, but it had a different feel—theirs had been high-pitched, excited, giggly; Alarie's voice was hard, sharp, and cold, like a stone knife hovering over me, wondering where to pierce to do the most damage. She narrowed her eyes, as if deciding what to do with me.

"My name is Alarie, as your prep team probably told you," she said. "It doesn't look like they did much prepping."

I swallowed. "Th-they said…said I was near flawless. They said I didn't need them."

Alarie closed her eyes and nodded. "I see. Well, Diamond Coroll, my partner and I have a specific look planned out for you and the other tribute. Are you very familiar with Lexus Pecuniam? Friends, acquaintances?"

I shook my head. "I-I might have seen him once or twice at school, but not much more than that."

"Understood. I find it fateful that you wore silver to the reaping. Do you know why?"

I shook my head.

"Lexus Pecuniam, if you have noticed, has golden eyes and hair. Silver and gold, Diamond Coroll. The odds are in our favor for this appearance."

I frowned. "Why is this so important?"

"First impression is crucial to the Hunger Games. Your appearance here sets the stage for the entire event and, in most cases, the rest of your life."

And I thought Gemma was obsessed with looks.

"All right," I said. "Show me what you've got planned."

After what felt like eternity, Alarie let me look at myself in the mirror.

Sparkly gold paint circled and swirled down my face and arms, with intricate designs and hidden pictures if you looked hard enough. My dress was essentially an eight-inch-wide silver strip of fabric snaking around my body, with one shoulder strap and a skirt that was longer in the back than in the front. I was wearing earrings of tiny gold and silver strands. A golden tiara was on my head, centered perfectly over my hair, which was brushed out and simply hanging down my back.

When I saw him, Lexus was wearing an outfit similar to mine, but with the gold and silver switched around, pants instead of a skirt, no earrings, and no tiara. My prep team came in to sneak a look at us before the ceremony and squealed with excitement.

"They're going to love you both!" Calliope squeaked.

I blushed. Lexus smirked.

Our chariot matched our outfits, with serpentine gold and silver designs curling over the white background. Four white horses pulled it.

"Remember to smile and sell it," Alarie advised as I climbed into the chariot. "Give them no choice but to love you."

I nodded as the doors opened. It was showtime.