Hollie Loveland, 18

District 7 Female

"This shouldn't be hard for you," Ebony lectured, frowning. I wobbled in my heels, desperate to prove that I could stand.

"I didn't wear heels a lot back home, and they were never this high," I argued. Ebony's frowned deepened.

"That shouldn't matter. Heels aren't hard to master." I glanced doubtfully at Ebony through my eyelashes but refocused on keeping my balance. "Besides, it's important to appear proper. You want to go home, don't you?"

I felt like crying. Of course I wanted to go home. I wanted nothing more than to go home, back to my family and my friends and my job. It was dull sometimes, but it was safe. And I loved it.

Ebony seemed to realize what she'd just said because she put a gentle hand on my arm.

"Honey, you can do this. Just keep your legs tense and walk with confidence." I sniffled and nodded, rising to my feet.

Carefully, cautiously, I made my way across the room and then back to Ebony, balancing precariously. My ankle rolled once but I caught myself. Ebony applauded happily.

"Good work!" she squealed, taking my hands.

I squeezed hers and smiled.

"Thanks Ebony. I might need a little more practice though."

We worked for the rest of the morning, on walking, etiquette and manners. As annoying as Ebony could be, she sure knew her stuff. Then Alenia, my stylist, knocked on the door.

"Can I come in?" she called. "I have Hollie's dress ready." Ebony cheered happily and let her in. Alenia brushed her bubblegum-pink hair aside and waved in my prep team, who were carrying a garment bag, a shoebox, and a makeup kit.

The heels were nude pumps that were just the right height and fit perfectly, and then Alenia helped me into my dress. It was beautiful, made of green velvet with spaghetti straps and a slit on the side. It matched my interview angle perfectly.

"Alenia, it's beautiful!" I gushed. She giggled as she ran a brush through my hair.

"Thanks honey. Let's get your hair and makeup sorted."

My hair was pinned up in an intricate braided bun and stuck with a pearl pin that matched my heels. My eye makeup was smokey and brought out my green eyes, and my lipstick was dark and sultry. Back home, Ashlyn would say I was sexy. I'd thank her and give her a huge hug. I wanted to hug Ashlyn so badly. Someday again, I could. Alive or dead, I'd see her and my family again.

Alann Cabada, 18

District 11 Male

To say I wasn't nervous was a lie. In the eyes of the Capitol, I was a mysterious volunteer who scored a 6. But take that away, and who was I? An imaginative, gay drug dealer from a poor neighborhood in the back streets of 11. How was I supposed to succeed?

I was starting to regret volunteering. I thought it would be a path to a better life, and it still could be, but a lot of fear and death would precede it. And the interview was making me very nervous.

Basil was sitting across from me, his brow furrowed in thought. We'd spent all afternoon trying to come up with my interview angle, and so far, we'd had no success.

"You're not interesting," Basil finally said.

"Thanks," I huffed. "I feel really confident now."

"No, I meant that you aren't appealing to the Capitol. The reason they care is because you volunteered. But the reason alone won't win them over. We have to spin it into a sob story."

"No!" I protested. "I don't want to make the whole interview a pity party! They won't sponsor a pathetic 18-year-old. Wilhelmina, maybe. But me? No one gives a crap if I have a sad backstory."

Basil sighed heavily, shaking his head and burying it in his hands.

"Alann, I don't know what to do with you. This is hopeless!"

"You're not helping!" I shouted back. An Avox popped into the room, holding out a phone towards Basil. He leaped to his feet and rushed to take it from her.

"Wait, what about me?" I asked desperately."

"My wife could be having a freaking baby, and I'm stuck with you!" he spat. "I don't have time for this." He held the phone to his ear and rushed out.

I slumped down in my comfy chair and groaned dramatically. If only I was a fantastical knight in a magical realm. I could impress the audience with tales of slayed dragons and rescued princesses. But that wasn't my reality.

The door opened again and I looked up to see if it was Basil returning, but it was just my stylist, Vidia. She plopped a bag down on the seat where Basil was sitting and smiled at me.

"Hello dear," she said. "I brought your suit!" She revealed a simple black tuxedo with a black bowtie, which made me cringe. It would look awful, I could tell. But I forced a smile and thanked her.

I put on the itchy suit, with Vidia's help, and turned to look at myself in the mirror. This was going to be a disaster. But I was as ready as I was going to be.

Author's Note

Here's another short chapter, and it will probably be the only one posted today. The interviews are coming next, and they'll be pretty long, so they'll be up tomorrow.

I hope you enjoyed reading from Hollie and Alann's POVs! I certainly had fun writing them. And if you haven't already, submit to PoS! Escorts and tributes are welcome.

A little background on Pillars of Salt: It is the 81st Hunger Games, but the escorts and mentors are an entirely new cast that don't exist here. Confusing, I know. But I'm liking the cast of characters I have so far. If you're having issues with the Google Form, I'll post the tribute form and you can PM me your tribute. Please just include your tributes' name and district in the PM title. It makes finding them so much easier. Thanks!

Please tell me your thoughts in a review!

Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

- Fiona