Disclaimer: I definitely do NOT own The Hunger Games series although I am a HUGE fan and I worship Suzanne Collins.

Chapter 1

As I watch him from a distance, I begin to feel the wonderful sensation would could possibly be a feeling of affection. I'm not to familiar with this feeling for never has somebody like him stood out to me once before. His hair, so dark and long, covers his right eye only revealing some of the delightful emerald colour hiding underneath. It calms me to see him for I feel safe and secure. I wish to approach him, but I do not dare break his concentration. I do not wish to get his kicked out of work. How would he support us if he had no job? Of course, I was thinking about the future when we were to be happily wed. At least, I truly hoped we would. I could imagine the crowds of people to come and see us joined together. My family of course in the very front row watching with smiles on their faces. I was getting ahead of myself.

He takes a quick glace in my direction. He does not smile or show any sort of affection for the creature standing before him. How could he anyways? He was looking at a messed up quiet little ginger girl who nobody even cared about. Not even my own family. How could anybody love somebody as strange as a girl like me? I'm a friendless girl with nowhere to go in life. There was no possible way he could return the love i have for him.

Miracles can happen. Miracles can happen in some distant universe other than mine. If miracles happen why am I still me? If miracles happened I would be somebody else and would have the love of my life by my side. Alas, miracles do not seem to exist in my life...

A quick glance in my direction, that's all it takes. I quickly turn back the other direction bumping into a unsuspecting victim. "Watch where you're going!" he shouts at me, "Some people need to get some places and they don't need a loser like you blocking their way!" I recognize him from school. One of the more popular people, unlike me who sits in the corner and reads.

"S-sorry," I manage to let out. He pushes me out of the way with a frustrated look on his face. People like him wont even take my apology into consideration. I take a quick glance back into the window to find that the boy had been watching me the whole time. Our eyes meet and I turn away running down the street. He has found out I'm not one of them. He found out I was me. I should have known there was no hope. I was hoping that if I gazed through the window of the shop everyday, one day he would come out to meet me. Now he never would, because he has found out I am a loser.

"Loser" is a common term in District 5. There isn't many of us at all but it's easy to spot us in a crowd. We are the ugly underfed ones who stand alone during the mandatory programing in the square. We don't even stand with our families or each other. Losers are treated poorly by their families of course. They don't respect who we are. My mother would always tell me, "My child, I wish you would go play with the other children. Sitting alone reading here on our doorstep isn't going to get you anywhere." "Mother," I would tell her in return, "It's who I am.'

I don't very often communicate with the other losers. We are all losers for our own reasons. Like one boy, I see him sometimes peering up into a tree by the square smiling happily. I remember once a beautiful blue bird was perched in the tree and the boy looked at in mere shock. The next day I overheard a family talking about how he tried to climb the tree that day to catch the bird but had fallen to the ground greatly damaging his spine. He did not return to his spot in the square for weeks.

I had only met one other loser, and it was very briefly. She had approached me while I had been reading a book on the topic of agriculture such as the work in District 11. She had seemed to be in a sort of daze. Her lips were peeling in a unpleasant way and her eyes were ginormous and I think she may have been cross-eyed. "Good day," she said in a dreamy tone of voice, "The sun beams down on your hair. It forms a light glow as the sun does itself. I think it's a rather magical sight. Good night." The girl skipped away as if she was a young child. I placed my book on my lap and for an hour I pondered what the girls intention could have been.

I find myself to be sitting at the foot of my house. I must had gone into another world because I did no remember walking there at all. I look up to see another loser sitting by his house as well. Most of the losers lived in the same area as me. It's the more poor part of District 5 that many people call "the loser pit" or "the loser alleyway". For us it's just called "home." I find a book cradled in my arms. I open it and begin looking through the pages when I hear a call from a distance. "Loser!" it calls out, "Loser!" I refuse to look up. The voice repeats itself many times. Finally I hear the boy across the alley call out, "Yeees?" in an unusual tone.

"Not you!" said the voice, "They redheaded girl over there!" I still do not dare look up. I refuse to answer to that horrific name i have been given. The voice continues calling out to me. I resist the urge to look up. The other loser begins calling out to me, "I think he wants ya!" he shouts several times. I cannot withstand it any longer.

I rise to my feet and a scream emits my body travelling directly up my throat from my stomach. "WHAT!" I exclaim turning my face a vibrant shade of red which some say could match my hair. I'm taken aback when I see who it was calling me. It was the boy. The handsome, perfect, made in heaven boy. He had called me by the dreaded name.

"Oh..." I say almost in a whisper, "It's you." I turn the opposite way and slowly open the door to my house and pull myself inside ignoring the sound of his voice calling "wait!" I'm safe inside my own home now. Neither my mother or my father are home. I stand in an empty house with only the sound of the creaky flooring accompanying me. I drop my book on the pile on the table and throw my jacket across the room. I feel better without the jacket on but, being a loser, we usually use them to cover up our skinny little bodies. Without our jackets, most losers feel insecure, but for me... it makes me feel like I am free.

I kick of my boots and sit on a stool by the table searching through the the pile of books to find my next adventure. Something startles me, it's the sound of the doorknob being turned. I jump back knocking a few books over with me and the boy steps inside. He takes a quick glance around then looks into my eyes, "May i come in?"

I shake my head and stumble with my words, "Why?" I manage to let the words escape my mouth, "What do you want?"

He let's himself in and my body automatically steps backwards. "Who are you?" he asks. Should I tell him my name? Nobody like him ever asks for my name. I begin to speak but I stumble with my words and give up. "Not going to tell me huh?" he said in almost a laugh, "Figures. I'm Meyrick. You don't need to tell me what your name is if you don't want to."

I shake my head, "It's not important," I say. I block my mouth. I didn't mean to say it out loud. He had already stepped inside and removed his boots. What was I to do? It wasn't very often I had a guest in my house. I think of the time a friend visited my mom. I stand up straight and take a brave step foreword, "Would you like anything to drink?" I ask as calmly as I can, "All that screaming, it must have tired you out."

Meyrick laughed, "It did, but I'm fine thank you." I wondered if I should offer him a seat. That's what my mother would usually do when somebody came into our home. I try to get the words out but they don't escape my mouth. So I take a chair and gesture him to it instead. Meyrick sits down accordingly. Meyrick... I always liked that name.

"So," I say, "May i ask what brings you into my house this afternoon?" I seen those words written in a book once. I thought they would fit this occasion quite well.

"Well," he begins, "I've been curious about you ever since the first time you peered through our window. It isn't very often somebody comes to watch my work. I told myself I would come out and meet you today but you ran off... So I followed you, and because I never learned your name I called out what that boy had called you. Not very smart on my behalf but it's what you are isn't it?

"I'm not proud of what I am Meyrick," I said, "So I will not answer to it."

"What will you answer to then?" he asked, "You will not give me your name so what will I call you?'

"You can call me Foxgirl."