Don't forget to vote if you haven't! If you have, don't worry I wrote it down.

1. Wild West

2. Vietnam

3. Ancient Egypt

4. Chinese hills

Maxson "Max" DeLoria- District Six male (17)

"To be gentle and kind, truthful and modest, to be full of faith and integrity, doing no wrong is what is right. Goodness sheds a halo of loveliness around everyone who possesses it, making their countenances beam, and they society desirable for its excellency. These are the holy angels of the good earth."

I proudly went through the recitation, counting through each word in my head as I stood in our run-down meeting room in the basement of an old school building. Such things weren't allowed in Panem, obviously, so we had to be discreet. The room certainly looked like nothing but a musty old classroom, from the chipping laminated desks in a circle to the ancient pencil sharpened on a shelf. I didn't think anyone had used non-mechanical pencils since my grandmother was in school.

"Very good, Maxson," Mr. Moon said. He stood up from his desk and walked to the sign on the wall to mark off my name in the list of students who had successfully made recitation.

"Isn't it 'truthful and modest', not 'modest and truthful'?"

I flinched as Mr. Moon straightened from where he'd been bent over to make the mark next to my name. No, no, no, I begged him silently. He'd been so close.

"I think you're right," he said to Farley, the boy who'd spoken up. He walked back to his desk and checked his Book of Truths, which was blank-covered to look like an unassuming notebook. He ran his finger under the passage and frowned.

"That's practically the same thing. It can count," I pleaded. Just let me have it...

"It's all right, Max. You can try again next week," Mr. Moon said. He could tell I was upset and even a little nervous. I could try again next week but I'd still have a blank spot next to my name for this week. My father wouldn't like that. Mr. Moon knew I was upset but there was a lot he didn't know. I was also scared and I was also mad.

"Why'd you have to open your big mouth?" I spat as I shoved Farley against the wall after I cornered him after class.

"I didn't mean-"

It wasn't Farley I wanted to hurt. Every time I lashed out it was my father I had in my head. I wasn't strong enough to fight back and it ate me alive every day. So I tried to live up to him and when I couldn't I hid and when he beat me I beat someone else and pretended it was him.

Nene Palmer- District Six female (18)

It was kind of funny I joined a motorcycle gang since I hated loud noise. Honestly I just really wanted to get out and make some friends. My parents were always so worried about me and how I stayed in my room all the time and just read books about mountains all day. I just really loved mountains. I loved talking about them and someday I wanted to see one.

Anyway, I joined the motorcycle gang to make friends and it turned out motorcycles were pretty cool, too. They were loud but at least they were always the same. All the same little mechanical parts worked together in the same way and when you pushed the gas pedal or turned the handlebar it always did the same thing. Life would be a lot easier if people were like that.

Tayla and Wain were talking about something. I got up from where I'd been checking my motorcycle undercarriage and tried to sneakily sidle over and listen in. It was hard for me to sneakily do anything, since I was over six feet tall and had often been told I had a very "intense" look. That comment prompted weeks of study, both of other faces and my own in a mirror. After a lot of thought I was pretty sure it was because other people were a lot more expressive than I was. I kept trying to be more expressive but when I was wearing what I thought was my biggest smile people still thought I looked "cold". Nothing to do but keep trying.

"I have enough for maybe half a gallon," Tayla was saying.

"I feel you. My check doesn't come in until Friday," Wain said back.

Some things were easy to gather. Tayla and Wain were talking about how they were having a hard time paying for gas, which was a pretty big part of a motorcycle gang. The harder part was figuring out the connotations of the conversation. Words meant what they meant but the way they were said could change everything. Tayla's voice was a little harsher than normal and Wain put his hands on his hips when he talked about his check. Tayla rolled her eyes in response.

Okay, sounds like they're upset. I should say something that will make them less upset. Like a solution. People like solutions to their problems.

"You wanna go behind the brewery and look for old bottles to turn in? It's dumpster day tomorrow so there might be a lot," I said.

"Yeah, let's do that," Wain said, and I internally rejoiced. If I said something and someone reacted positively, that was a friendly interaction! That was the whole reason I joined this gang. And as I rode off to the brewery with my friends, I didn't even mind that the motorcycles were loud.

Max: He looks like James Dean with red hair and green eyes. 5ft 7 and of a broad build but he isn't muscular.

Nene: Nene is extremely tall, at 6'1. She's a tanned, semi-muscular white girl with brownish-gray hair that falls to her mid-back in clumps, often described as having the same texture and shape as a lion's mane. She has dark brown eyes and a piercing look.