Bluebell Singer from District 11
Victor of the Fifth Annual Hunger Games

Red was the color of Carmen's lips.

"So, are you ready to die?" she asked.

Bluebell wasn't sure how to respond. The only thing she knew for sure was that it wasn't a threat. She'd been friends with Carmen ever since the first day of training. Carmen just liked using her words in an ominous way.

"I'm… I'm not quite sure what you mean," Bluebell stammered after a short while, hypnotized by the lips of the girl she called her ally.

"I said, are you ready to die?"

Bluebell fell onto the soft velvet chair, tracing the soft material with her fingertips. Carmen was a strange friend, fiercely protective but equally cold. Her spontaneity would probably get her far in the games.

Bluebell let out a sigh, having finally decided on a response. "Yeah, I'm ready to die."

"Great, me too."

Tomorrow morning, they would be entering the arena. Bluebell still had on the pale opal-colored gown she'd been given for her interview. Inside it, she felt beautiful. Like a flower in a field, she felt at home in a sea of colors.

"I hope this arena is full of color," Bluebell said. "I hope it's a beautiful place to die."

Carmen looked beautiful as well, garbled in a purple dress, her makeup boldly highlighting those ruby-red lips.

"Tell you what, sweetie," Carmen said. "We'll be better off if we give up all hope of survival right now."

"Why? So that we won't be disappointed if we die?"

"Pretty much. And if we do survive – well, what a pleasant surprise."

Sometimes, Bluebell was shocked by the way Carmen talked about death. Like it was merely a fact of life, something that could never be avoided – something that should be admired, maybe even embraced.

"If I go to another place when I die, I want it to be colorful," Bluebell mused. "I wish I could fall asleep in a field of blue flowers and wake up in heaven."

"Heaven?" Carmen gasped. "You can't really believe in that place."

"Well, I do."

"But you can't see it."

"I can't see love, but I know it's real."

Carmen put her hands on her hips, her curvy hips. "You are a very strange girl, Bluebell."

As she talked, her red lips moved up and down, blooming like roses in Bluebell's heart. Carmen was a striking example of a woman. Truly, a sight to behold.

That night, Bluebell dreamed about her ruby red lips, her golden hair, her curves. She wished she could fall asleep in a beautiful place. She wished her bed was a flower garden, and her dreams butterflies, fluttering to and fro like sparkling stars.

Orange was the color of the backpack they took from the cornucopia.

Bluebell was off her pedestal the second the horn played its fateful note. This year, the ground was not grass, but a hard stone-like material that reminded her of rubble. The cornucopia was a pile of debris with a cavernous interior containing mostly water. This water would come in very handy in the days to come – temperatures were wicked high, and natural water sources were scarce.

Carmen, Carmen. The name ran through her mind like a magical incantation as she sprinted to the cornucopia, scooping up whatever she could carry with her. Where was that girl? She couldn't be far.

Twinkle from District 1 raced past, his spear sparkling in the sunlight. The pair from 2, Julius and Leia, were the biggest threats this year – both armed with spiked clubs, they were sure to kill most of the tributes this year.

Bluebell remembered what Carmen said the night before: We'll be better off if we give up all hope of survival right now. What was that supposed to mean? If she truly gave up survival, she wouldn't be running. She never would have left her pedestal.

"Bluebell! What are you doing?"

Her ruby lips glowed in the light of the sun. Carmen. The girl made of rust and stardust and flowers.

But she didn't wait around for an answer, because the next instant Carmen had grabbed Bluebell by the arm, yanking her further into the midst of the bloodbath. "You ready to die? You ready to die?" she screamed.

"No! no!"

"Yes you are!"

With little difficulty, they managed to snatch a huge orange package from the cornucopia. Orange like the sunset. Orange like poison. "Now come on!" Carmen shouted. "Let's move!"

They travelled through the city ruins for the next few hours, alternating between jogging and walking until the sun began to set. By early afternoon, temperatures were swelteringly high. It was a massive relief to travel under the cover of darkness.

"What a perfect day," Carmen remarked sarcastically.

"You and I have different ideas of what constitutes a perfect day," Bluebell said, floored and flummoxed by this behavior.

"Really? What's yours?"

"Not being in the Hunger Games, for starters."

Carmen stopped moving and turned around slowly. "Very funny, Bluebell."

"You mean you're enjoying this?" Bluebell asked, astounded.

"Not particularly. But this is my life now. I may as well get used to it."

Every minute, Bluebell became more fascinated with the girl named Carmen. She had no fixed personality, no moral compass. Only a sense of thrill that was as wide and as beautiful and as terrifying as the ocean.

Carmen's ruby-red lips seemed to glow in the starlight.

Yellow was the color of the snake that bit her arm.

Bluebell woke up screaming, the chorus of sharp teeth sending bolts of pain through her body.

"Holy shit! Holy shit!" Carmen cried out, seeing her ally in distress.

"Pretty much! What do I do?"

Panic reverberated in Bluebell's voice.

"Um… um… god damn!" Carmen seemed just as confused as Bluebell felt. "Take its fangs out!"

Bluebell yanked the snake's teeth out of her arm. The pain that once blossomed through her body like a hideous, rotten fungus now subsided into the aching of a wilting daisy. She watched in a dream-like state as Carmen beat the creature to death with a rock.

"Don't stand up!" Carmen ordered. "It'll only make your heart pump faster. And then you'll die faster."

"Wow, very encouraging!"

Bluebell felt herself lose consciousness. The last thing she saw before she passed out was the dead body of the snake, curled up and motionless on the rocky ground. The snake's body. The beating sun. The orange backpack. The ruby red lips. This was not a bad place to die.

The next thing she knew, she was lying in some kind of hammock, rocking lightly back and forth. Her head was burning hot and her stomach was threatening to hurl.

"Am I dead?" she asked groggily.

Carmen smirked. "I hope not."

"How long was I out?"

"Three days."

"How many people died?"

"Four. Now there's seven or eight of us left."

"What did you do to me?"

"Sucked the venom straight out of you like a slurpee."

Carmen's grin was hard to read. Was it sarcasm or something else? For now, Bluebell didn't really care. Sleep was already threatening to pull her back under. She looked briefly around at the camp Carmen set up while she was unconsciousness. Two nice hammocks over a bed of flowers. A spark flew in her chest.

"Did you make our camp over the flowers – for me?" she stammered.

"You bet," Carmen answered. "Also, I kept this as a souvenir." She hoisted up the dead body of the snake.

"Of course," Bluebell said, rolling her eyes. "To remember the fond memories." Her eyelids were already closing.

"So many memories. Goodnight, beauty queen."

The sun, the snake, the pack, the lips, the arena.

Green was the color of the leaves bearing the luscious orange fruit.

The days had passed in a blur. She and Carmen had killed people. The boy from 6. The girl from 7. Bluebell saw her own district partner in the sky and felt a pang of sadness. Buildings toppled and storms brewed. Cannons fired and colors danced in the sky as the sun set.

That was the one thing that never changed. The sun rising and setting each day. Nature's most beautiful painting.

Now there were only three tributes left: Bluebell, Carmen, and the boy from 2, Julius. Neither of the girls had seen him since the bloodbath: who he had killed, what he was armed with, was all a mystery.

"You ready to die?" Carmen asked as she and Bluebell ducked under the tree bearing the fruit.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

This, Carmen said, was the best place to camp out for the day. It wasn't out in the open, but it wasn't terribly secluded either (Carmen figured it was only a matter of time before Julius attacked, so there was no use trying too hard to hide from him).

That evening, Bluebell went hunting for food and came back with some rabbits. Despite her job as a florist, she knew a thing or two about how to set snares. And the traps she set worked every time, ensnaring the animals with no hope of escape.

As she watched an animal flail helplessly in her trap, she thought about President Cornelius and the escort who had reaped her name.

While they were eating, Bluebell said something she'd been meaning to say for a long time. "If I'm dying, and if it's possible, please take me somewhere colorful."

Carmen looked around at the bland, stony landscape. "We're a bit short on colors."

That made Bluebell's heart sink. "Close my eyes, too. I don't want my parents to see me dead with my eyes open."

"Sure thing."

The green canopy of leaves offered some color in the otherwise drab arena. She watched it as she ate, the leaves swaying, swaying like thoughts, color in a cadence, air swirling across the chasm of the sky. The fruits were just like flowers, she thought. And she was just like a flower. A dainty blue blossom that sits delicately in the gardens of those who care for natural beauty.

Carmen was a flower too, but something much less delicate. A rose, dripping rubies, raindrops.

Julius attacked that very evening, careening through the hanging branches like death itself. The girls drew their weapons and fought for their lives. Ten minutes later, Julius and Carmen were both on the ground, crying softly and bleeding out from the wounds they'd inflicted on one another. Bluebell herself was sobbing with pain, gashes in her chest and forelegs screaming with fire.

"Bluebell…" Carmen stammered.

"Yes, Red?"

"Let me see your eyes. Let me see your soul."

Blood poured from Bluebell's insides as plentifully as water from a faucet. Carmen just stared at her face like it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. A cannon fired – Julius – and Carmen's lips curled into a grin, rose petals curling curiously.

Blue was the color of the banner bearing the seal of District 1.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Bluebell Singer, the victor of the fifth annual Hunger Games!" shouted the mayor.

Bluebell smiled faintly as she stepped up to the microphone. For the first time, she could clearly see the pedestals bearing the families of the dead tributes. The boy from 1, Twinkle, had two parents and a big brother. Carmen's pedestal was empty.

Before long, she found herself talking about Carmen. "She was the most mysterious girl I've ever met. Like a flower you can never identify."

"I never could tell what she was planning to do. That shows how much she loved the wildness of life. I never knew what she had, or what she wanted, or where she came from. That shows how much she believed in what people can be, not what they are."

And her lips were red like rubies, she added silently.

She addressed Twinkle's family as well, calling him a brave warrior and all the other things her prep team told her to say. Overall, it had been a successful victory tour. No riots, no emotional meltdowns. Only mindless murmuring as she waited to address Carmen's family, counting down the days until she spoke to District 1.

In that moment, she knew she would wonder about the mysterious girl from District 1 for the rest of her life. Every day she would wonder exactly what went on in that crazy head of hers.

Violet was the color of the flowers on her grave.

Bluebell laid a necklace over the tombstone. It contained six beads: a tiny ruby, a, orange star, a snake, a leaf, the seal of District 1, and a purple blossom. A letter was printed on the back of each bed, spelling out the name of the girl that could never truly be understood.

Carmen was born to be wild. That's as much as Bluebell could deduce. Live fast, die young. Kiss and cry. Call home wherever the head lies down.

She had no family. Nobody in District 1 knew who she was. Bluebell checked birth records in the Justice Building, but there was no sign a girl with her name had ever existed.

Like the stars in the sky, some things can never be reached, never be known. Gleaming, twinkling. Rust and stardust.

List of Victors

District 1 (1 Victor): Luxor Dodge (1st)

District 2 (1 Victor): Tyrell Crowley (3rd)

District 3 (0 Victors):

District 4 (0 Victors):

District 5 (1 Victor): Electra Wilty (4th)

District 6 (0 Victors):

District 7 (1 Victor): Rowan Dobson (2nd)

District 8 (0 Victors):

District 9 (0 Victors):

District 10 (0 Victors):

District 11 (1 Victor): Bluebell Singer (5th)

District 12 (0 Victors):