Jack Calico (District 8)

 “You know I am rather attached to my leg hair… I’d really appreciate it if you didn't brutally yank it from my body.” I said to the multicolored people who were my stylists. It is kind of discouraging to know your fate is in the hands of some color-blind old men. There were 3 of them in total, all hawk-nosed and grim-reapery looking- that is if the grim reaper was passionate about multi-colored hoods.

The one with the polka dotted hood laughed, “Yes my freckled young friend, thats why we are de-attaching it from you.” He winked as if he had just said something witty. If he had I don’t think I would of caught it. Word jokes and puns just always seem to go over my head.

His pal in the stripes giggled, “Indeed, and soon you won’t be freckled as all after we bleach your skin and close your pores!” He rubbed his hands together evilly. “Your skin shall be flawless! Like a baby’s!”

Oh God help me.

The stupid one, as I had taken to calling him, who wore a baby lamb design on his cape, jumped up and down hysterically yelling, “Don’t ruin the surprise. Then he rubbed my head like one would rub a dog and whispered, “You’re going to look FABULOUS!!!!”

I was officially afraid for my well being now. “....I don’t want to look fabulous….” I muttered hesitantly, my eyes darting around the room for means of escape. I saw a door.

The stupid one patted my head again, “It’s ok, you clearly don’t understand the meaning of the word fabulous.” He then turned to his friends and shook his head sadly. “The poor heathen.” The others stood around him clicking their tongues in agreement.

Heathen. I didn’t know that word, this was being one of those days that I really wished that I had paid attention in school, but judging off the way that they said it it was not a positive term. “You know what? I may be a” I tried to pronounce the word I’d just heard. “he-THAN but at least I’m not the color of unicorn vomit! Leave my innocent freckles alone! They never did anything to you!” I yelled, deciding that now was a great time to make a break for it. I leapt from the table and sprinted for my life toward the door.

I think my escape attempt might have been more successful if I had watched where I was going and I had not slipped when I stepped on a random piece of soap lying around. My body hit the ground hard, the air was forced from my lungs.

Of all the places in the room I could have stepped.

Two wrinkly old hands grabbed me and began yanking me toward a large tub in the corner of the room. Even from here I could smell the smell of the chemicals I used to clean as janitor in the clothing factory. The other two faces of my stylist’s loomed in front of me, “You were a very naughty little boy, but we understand you’re scared of fabulous, having not been cultured in it. We get this reaction a lot, so you’re not the only one.” The one on the right cooed.

Oh my dear crap. They were looking at me like they were going to make me fabulous and then eat me! With salt! I had to get out of here! “BLOODY MURDER!!!! HELP BLOODY MURDER!!!” I started screaming, struggling for my life. Forget he Careers! I couldn’t even make it to the arena.

I felt the one dragging me flip me into tub with a splash, I squeezed my eyes shut. Instantly I felt chemicals sear into my skin. I broke the surface gasping for air, I pulled myself out swinging my leg over the lip and flopping to the ground. I felt a towel thrown on top of me. “See? You fabulous now! That was no hard!” One of them said throwing his hands into the air as if he had just won something.

I crinkled my nose and sat up, the searing sensation fading from my skin. The rainbow grim reapers had propped a mirror up for me to see myself.

My jaw dropped in horror, “I look friggin albino!” I cried in despair, I was so white I practically glowed! How the hell was I supposed to hide looking like a flashlight?”  And the most horrible part was that I had had no freckles anymore.

The grim reapers hesitated, “Well… you do have a point there. Perhaps thats why out tributes always die. We can make you a tad darker and dye your hair back to its original black.” The one that seemed to be the leader said slowly as if it killed him. I might have been sympathetic had it not been about to kill me. I didn’t want to die! I was too young and beautiful to die!

The grim reaper sigh, “I guess it’s back to square one for us.”

~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~

Willow Sash (District 11)

My family wanted to know.

Kaiden wanted to know.

My escort wanted to know.

My mentor wanted to know.

The entire capital wanted to know.

But how could I tell them why I volunteered for a girl I didn't know, when I wasn’t even entirely  sure myself. I mean I didn’t have an excuse for the way I felt, that dark looming cloud that seemed to follow me wherever I went, the shackles that seemed to bind themselves around my ankles, trying to drag me downwards.

The fact was that I was depressed and I had absolutely no excuse for it.

And in the split second during the reaping I had decided it was time for me to die or get rich trying, however I’d never expected Kaiden to get reaped as well.

Kaiden the boy who’d been one of my best friends for years was now locked into a fight to the death with me, I feel like I should have felt something more when I saw that he shared the same fate as me, instead I just felt a cold grimness wash over me, the situation just getting deeper because now I had someone to die for.

And now I sat, surrounded by morons who bustled around me, cleaning me, untangle my hair and trying to make be beautiful for a capital who wouldn’t care. I already knew no one would bat an eye at the small, stoic girl with creamy brown skin. And even if I did catch an eye or two the eyes would leave me as soon as word got out that I was planning to die.

The stylist's tried to strike up a conversation with me, chattering endlessly about their first world, oblivious to the things that the districts had to do in order to build it. I stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, shutting their comment’s away and drifting into space, remembering the days when I’d been happy….

~~~~~O~~~~~

Georgette Channel (District 1)

Patience was not my virtue, and I was going to smack whoever was causing me this inconvenience. I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for my stylist to appear, my prep team just waddled around uncomfortably a bit too scared to approach me. Okay… so I may have been a bit forceful when I was telling them what I wanted and how to do things. They’d just have to get used to it though, I was a girl who knew what she wanted.

My back straightened as I saw the doorknob turn. I tucked a curl around my ear as I watched a tall skinny, rather flamboyant looking man strode in. When he laid eyes on me he squinted and glanced down at the clipboard he held, “You’re a girl.” He said in confusion staring at me…. “Wrong room. I’m looking for you’re district partner George.”

Its really amazing how fast I can go from content to severely pissed. I tried to keep my worst death glare, the one reserved for only the worst offences (like calling me George) from plastering itself on my face. I needed these people to like me. I smiled sexily, “Please called me Georgette.” I giggled dumbly.

He looked a tad disappointed as he adjusted his thick, black-rimmed glasses that sat perched on his nose. “Okay, I thought I was getting the male tribute.” He walked over to me and gestured for me to take off my robe, I let it drop expecting some type of reaction like I generally get from men.

He looked at me as if I was a boy. This was new. Had I gained weight?

I watched him take some measurements, he stepped back and pinched his lip with his fingers as if he was thinking, “I’m thinking a blue sequined dress to bring out your eyes.” He drawled in his irritating capital accent.

Oh no. Blue would never do, I liked pink. Time to put my persuasive skills to good use, I cracked my knuckles. I bit my lip, “People say I look really good in pink, they say it brings out my lips.” I sidestepped so I was closer to him, almost touching.

He stepped back. Oh…. So he was romantically nieve? I could fix that and then get what I wanted. I stepped closer to him, “Come on,” I pouted, “Let me choose what I wear and I can make all your dreams come true…” I purred placing a hand on his chest.

He frowned at me. “I severely doubt that. I like boys.” My jaw dropped as all of his behavior suddenly made sense. I stepped back blushing fiercely. How dare he be homosexual when I wanted something? Why did nothing ever go my way? 

Well actually almost everything generally went my way- but this wasn't and this was not acceptable!

He smiled in amusement at my sudden irritation. “You’re still wearing that blue, by the way.”

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Yes, It's true. I've taken this off hold. I'm sorry this chapter wasn't really as long as my chapters were previously, I just didn't feel like there was a lot I could do with the whole stylist concept. The next chapter will be longer, I promise.

And Affinity will not be coming back sadly. She's been lost to collage. :(