As long as greed is stronger than compassion, there will always be suffering.
-Rusty Eric

168 Elmgrove Lane, April 16th, 6:00 pm

Dominique Juniper Harrison (10) POV

Capitol Citizen

My older sister Zenobia has the prettiest things. She's at her friend Irika's house right now, so she's not home to tell me to stay out of her room, which is good, because I love everything she keeps in here. Mom is out of town for the weekend, so I'm home alone, but sometimes without Mom knowing, I like to come up to Zenobia's room and just look at all the shining jewelry, colorful scarves and flowers and sleek makeup compacts. Sometimes I'll take something. Something little that won't be missed. I keep it all in a box in the back of my closet. Mom doesn't buy me the nice things Zenobia has. She says I'm just a kid, and that I wouldn't be interested in any of that. So she buys me little plastic toys and scratchy clothes.

I hear the front door slam shut, and I realize that Zenobia's home. Quickly, I swipe a bottle of glittery gold nail polish and drop it in the pocket of my sweatshirt. I know that I won't have time to make an escape, so thinking quickly, I drop to the ground on my stomach and begin looking under her bed. The nail polish is digging into my side, and I can't get into a position where it doesn't hurt, so I just live with it. My sister runs into her room and throws her black and silver bag on her bed.

"Junebug, why are you in my room?" she asks.

"I can't find my gold headband," I lie. "Did you take it?"

"No, sorry," she says. "Want me to give you a makeover? I'm hanging out with some friends, and Ashleen and Swan really wanted to see you."

"Yeah!" I exclaim, my eyes lit up. She motions for me to sit on a little puff chair next to her in front of her makeup table. We convinced Mom a few weeks ago to let me dye my hair bright red, since Zenobia started dying hers when she was 9, a year younger than me. She takes out a curling iron and curls my hair. My curled red hair contrasts with her straight pink and blonde hair, which I like. She doesn't put much makeup on me. She says it's because I'm still little and I don't need it. Whatever. She finishes it with a little fake nose ring and paints my nails light pink.

"Thanks, Zenobia," I say, reaching over to hug her.

"Do you have something in your pocket?" she asks, feeling the lump.

"Yeah, just a lollipop," I say. "I'll be in my room."

I escape from Zenobia's room and go to my own. I shut the door and lock it, so that I won't get caught. I open up my closet and pull out a box that used to have a pair of Mom's pretty blue heels. It's already almost full with all different makeup, nail polish, jewelry and change purses, so I drop the gold polish in and shove it back in there, as far back as it will go, and I drape my winter coat over it. From the closet, I grab a light blue dress and silver flats and pull them on, because I want to look good for Zenobia's friends. The front door opens again, and I hear a chorus of voices.

"Hey, Zenobia!"

"Where's Dominique?"

"I need lip gloss!"

About an hour after they all came, I walk out of my room casually and go down the stairs to see Zenobia sitting in the living room with her friends grinning. There's a few random wine coolers and assorted bottles and cans of beer strewn on the coffee table, and a guy- I think his name is Baron- has a joint between his lips.

"Hi Dominique," Ashleen slurs. She's already at least a little drunk.

"Hi Ash," I say, before turning my attention to my sister. "Does Mom know you're drinking?"

"No, and you're not gonna tell her," she says, grinning.

"Why shouldn't I?" I ask, putting my hands on my hips.

"Because..." she hesitates.

"We can share," Baron says, extending his joint. "Want a hit?"

"Shit, Baron, she's 10," Swan says.

"Whatever," I say, heading back upstairs. "Try to quiet down, I'm trying to do homework."

Once I get back up to my room, I smile to myself. I'm not exactly planning on telling my mom what Zenobia and her friends were doing, but it's nice to know I have something if she ever irritates me.

A/N: Well, submissions are closed. I'll put up the full list of tributes after the next prologue, which is like half written.

Thoughts on Dominique?

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