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I wake on the day we're to visit District Ten feeling as though this won't be nearly as bad as Eleven. In truth, all I recall about the tributes from Ten are that the girl died on the first day and the boy had a crippled foot.
I wonder, now, if he'd been pretending, or exaggerating it. To live through the bloodbath is a feat by itself, bad foot or not. Then, to manage several more days, including the fireballs? Of course, they might not have been in the entire arena, and perhaps he dodged them...but still. It's a mystery. The recap Peeta and I watched hardly mentioned the boy, so perhaps Prim and the others saw a great deal more of him. Either way. He is dead and I am alive.
Moreover, neither Peeta nor I played any role in his death, nor in the girl's. It's more than we can say for many of the other kids. Perhaps we killed in self-defense, but we still killed.
Not today. Today, it will be easier to stare into the crowd and recite the lines Effie provided. If the people hate us beneath their expected cheering, it is because we won and their children lost. Not because we had any hand in our death.
Ten, I learn over breakfast, is large in size, but not in population. Effie explains that while there are more than twice as many people in Ten as in Twelve, it's not a large district. The people there provide meat to the Capitol. Livestock, not squirrels and rabbits and the rare deer. They raise and kill animals, and send the meat to the Capitol. Even the teenagers. Like Rue and the others in Eleven, Ten's kids have at least some part in the district trade before leaving school.
I don't bother to exchange my pajamas and bathrobe for my undergarments before going to see Cinna and my prep team. Since the majority of the work--leg hair removal, nails, and so forth--was done before entering Eleven, my stylists have considerably less to do today. After placing me in a tub and scrubbing my body until I'm sure they've taken away a layer of skin, Flavius scrubs and massages special shampoo into my hair.
"It will make it grow faster and thicker!" he explains.
Whether or not this is true, it's more pleasant than the scrubbing down, and I am almost disappointed when he stops. Once out of the tub and in a robe, Venia gives my eyebrows a final "shaping," which basically means plucking out a couple of hairs that don't meet the Capitol beauty standard.
Finally, the soreness from my bath is gone, and I feel exposed, yet not horribly uncomfortable. I am allowed to change into my undergarments before Cinna puts me in the first of two dresses I will wear today. I might not share his love of fashion, but I can't deny that what he designs are stunning--and usually far from uncomfortable. Given Capitol standards, I suppose I will always feel some discomfort in evening gowns. The day dresses are, thankfully, far more to my taste.
Today's is bright yellow, but in so many shades that it almost gives me a headache. I can't deny that it looks stunning. But Cinna doesn't lift the long gown over my head immediately. Instead, he studies me in my undergarments--a thin shirt and loose pants that end above my knees.
"I'll need you to take off your shirt, and put this on, instead," Cinna directs, in his soft voice.
It's a flimsy white dress, not even a dress, really. It ends just above my breasts, and flares slightly at the waist. The dress ends below my pants.
"Why do I need this?" I ask, frowning slightly
It's not uncomfortable--really, it feels very soft against my skin--but all of my other outfits were directly against my skin or over my undergarments. I preferred the latter. Being able to wear those from home made me feel, in some small way, like I had kept something of myself.
"Because your shirt is too shirt to fit correctly under this, and the dress won't fit without it," Cinna explains.
He holds up some sort of white vest, only in addition to a long ribbon coming out from two sides in the back, I see a long set of what look like metal buttons.
"I...wear this under my dress?" I ask, dubiously.
Cinna smiles slightly. "Before the Dark Days, women wore them all the time. You should see some of the pictures preserved in the Capitol fashion vaults." He shakes his head. "It’s come back in the Capitol for some. Not that we'll do anything extreme for you. Two inches, at most. If you enjoy it, I can incorporate it into your other gowns."
"Two inches?" I repeat, not understanding.
"Off your waist. It's...well, I've read and heard it referred to as many things. A bodice, stays, a corset. All do the same thing. Narrow your waist a bit, support you..." He nods, reddening just a little. "Take off too many inches at once and you'll faint or feel very uncomfortable. But if you go slowly, you'll find it reasonably comfortable."
All of this might as well be in another language, but I just nod. Cinna gives a small laugh.
"If you find it unbearable, you can wear another dress, and I'll let this one out," he promises, moving the...whatever it is, so that the sides expand, and the ample amount of ribbon I saw before shrinks.
This time, I manage to smile. "Deal."
I'm glad Cinna appears to know what he's doing, because as I watch, I'm flummoxed. Not only does the back need the ribbons loosened (or is it a single ribbon?), he has to unbutton the metal buttons. Well, I've seen worse at the Capitol, and my yellow gown should cover this. I hope.
I stand awkwardly, expectantly, until Cinna's satisfied. What I see are two separate parts of a vest strung together by ribbon, but they're so far apart that I can't imagine how they'll "take in" my waist. Nor have I given any thought to my waist. Protruding ribs, yes, when I was starving, but never to my waist.
"Stand with your arms raised," Cinna instructs, interrupting my thoughts.
I obey, and soon, find the fabric around me. It's stiff, not uncomfortable, but far from the cotton or flannel or any other materials that I've worn. I'm aware that it doesn’t cover my arms, nor does it go above my chest. It does extend to my middle of my hips, and I hope that if I have to relieve myself, this won't be a problem.
"Good. Now, take a deep breath, Katniss, and stand as straight as you can. Very nice," Cinna praises. "I'm going to take you in two inches, but if you're having trouble breathing, or feel faint, or just uncomfortable, let me know." After a pause, he adds, "Nod if you agree."
I nod.
A moment later, the rigid fabric tightens around my frame. I almost let out my breath in surprise, but remember to hold it at the last minute. The tightening continues all over, from my hips to my chest. The...device...presses in on me. It's not exactly constricting, though, nor is it uncomfortable. Really, it feels almost like a hug.
I imagine that if Cinna kept tugging, I would feel short of breath. But when the pressure remains, instead of increases, I feel no unease.
Cinna does something to keep everything in place, then turns to face me.
"You don't look red or pale," he observes. "Can you take a deep breath for me?"
I nod, finding this easy enough to do. Certainly, I would not want to find myself outrunning a wild dog, but I can inhale and exhale without trouble.
"How does it feel?" Cinna presses.
I consider, taking in another deep breath. "Strange. Not bad, though. Like--like Prim or my mother is hugging me, only they aren't here, of course."
"Yes. I've read that the pressure can feel like a hug." He walks around me, studying me. "We'll leave it on for a half hour, make sure it doesn't hurt or pinch within that time. If you're still comfortable after the speech and the tour, I'd like to keep you in it for the dinner."
Another thought occurs to me. "Will I be able to eat?"
"Of course. Two inches won't kill your appetite. Just, perhaps, eat a bit more slowly than usual," Cinna advises, eyes twinkling.
I roll my eyes. "No promises."
Once in my dress, I feel different than I had any other time I dressed up. There's the knowledge that this is District Ten, of course, but the pressure resembling a hug steadies me. Calms me, even.
"Take a look in the mirror," Cinna urges, putting an arm around my shoulders.
It's a steadying gesture, I think, and I nearly lose my breath when I see myself. I put my hand around my waist, and while they certainly don't come close to meeting, I can hardly deny the device makes it look small. My chest, conversely, looks larger. It's completely not what I am used to, especially since I go around in loose shirts and trousers most of the time, but I can't deny the effect is...striking.
"You look lovely," Cinna praises. "Now, don't forget to smile."
When Peeta sees me, he does a double take, and I can't help but roll my eyes and smile. Later, I'll explain why I suddenly look so tiny.
We go to stand before the crowds. I can hear my heart racing, and take a deep breath. And another. My lungs fill easily, and the pressure from the bodice feels pleasant. Steadying. Perhaps, if today goes well, I will ask Cinna to put me in this again. I can't imagine wearing it in the woods at home, but here, I welcome the steadying pressure. It holds me upright, I realize, and I find myself better able to manage.
Then again, this could simply be because we're in District Ten. I can't say it would help when I face Cato's parents.
"How are you doing, Katniss?" Cinna asks, after we go back to change.
"I'm fine, except..." I redden. "How do I go to the bathroom?"
To his credit, he doesn't laugh at me, or even smile. Without touching me, he demonstrates how to remove what needs removing, and set it back.
I manage on the second attempt.
My dinner dress is full, floor-length, and worn with heels. While they don't pinch my heels, I don't like tottering around, and am relieved to be sitting down. I do my best to eat slowly, and if I can't finish everything that I want, I still manage to eat a fair amount and enjoy the food.
Cinna helps me out of the dress shortly after we return to the train, and then out of the corset. A part of me is glad, another part of me misses its embrace. Still, I can't imagine sleeping in it--something that a few people in the Capitol and far more before the Dark Days did.
I will wear it again to face District Nine, though. Perhaps the others.
Still, when I wake up from the latest nightmare that night, it is Peeta's arms that hold me. That embrace allows me to fall asleep until morning.