WARNING: PROFANITY IN MARTIN'S POV

Desiree Redwood, D7 Female

"Break time!"

Perfect. I could go rehydrate, chat with the others, maybe even set up a 'meeting' for later with one of the girls. I smiled at the thought. Darleen seemed to be receptive to my flirting, and she had quite the gaze. First things first though, water. I dropped my axe by the fence and strolled up to the dispenser. I had to wait in line, as we only had one jug, and everyone was exhausted. The line grew fast, and I saw Darleen near the end as I approached the front. I had a great opportunity to help her out. So when I reached the front I grabbed two cups and walked right back to Darleen.

"Hey Darleen. Are ya thirsty? I know I am."

"Oh, hi Des. I'm pretty thirsty as well. Do you think you can help me with that? I see you have an extra cup."

I smiled.
"For you? Of course!"

Martin Jackman, D7 Male

"Shit!"

"Martin! Watch your mouth!"

"I can't help it Mrs. Barclay! I-FUCK-have Tourette's."

"Martin. Please cut out the nonsense. I don't have time for these lies. I'm trying to teach a lesson, and if you can't stop disrupting, I'll have to send you to the office."
Life was so unfair. I had a life-ruining mental disorder and everyone dismissed me as a faker. I couldn't help it! It was real this time, I was sure. The schizophrenia wasn't, I admit that. Neither was the psychosomatic disorder. But I was positive. Why would I fake something like this? I want to fit in, not be ostracized. Everyone was out to get me.
"Shit!"

"Martin! I warned you! Go to the front office!"

Why didn't anyone understand? I was trying my best.

Kjole Schmeichel

Dang. That was intense. I wasn't sure if I've ever sweat so much. But it was worth it. We won in a shutout. A lot of people say that the goalkeeper doesn't have to do much work, but they're wrong. I wanted to collapse into the grass, but it was probably really dirty. Also, it was time to go shake hands with the other team, and then celebrate. I was hoping we could go get some ice cream. My favorite was chocolate. I knew all my teammates' picks, in fact. I was walking over to talk with my friend Sasha when I heard it. Oh no. Nonononononono.

Barking.

There were feral dogs all over the district, I would know. I froze. Most of the spectators had cleared out, and so had many players, planning on meeting up wherever we went to celebrate. I looked around. There was a little kid playing with a forgotten ball. No parent in sight. I saw a massive black dog barrelling towards him. More like a wolf, really. Nobody else was close enough to do something. It was all so familiar. I wanted to run and hide, but I knew that was wrong. Instead, I charged at the dog, hoping to scare it off. It turned to me, growling. I shrieked as it charged at me and sprinted towards the kid. I heaved him over my shoulder and ran faster than I thought I could towards the crowd.

"HELP! THERE'S A GIANT DOG!" I screamed as I reached the people. I handed off the kid to someone and kept running, all the way home. I didn't flinch when balls were kicked at my face. I didn't fear diving to block and hitting the ground. But dogs were horrifying.

Archibald Pell, D8 Male

Everyone called me Archduke of Pelicans. I hated that. I wanted to be called Pell. Pelicans had big mouths, while I tended to keep to myself. Okay, they just called me Archibald, but they might as well be calling me Archduke of Pelicans for how annoying and unfitting it was. That's why I liked rats better. They never called me the wrong name. When I was 7, we received a delivery. Lab rats. They were meant for some person in District Three, but we were stuck with them due to shipping laws. So, we decided to make the best of it. Now we sell rats to model baby clothes. It sounds really weird, and it is, but I love the sound of little rodent feet scurrying through the house. It was oddly soothing. In my experience, rodents were way better than most people. For some reason, at school there was insane pressure to be the absolute best at any cost, and many classmates followed that mantra. I didn't, and so I was an outcast. I was tripped in the halls, shoved in lockers, you name it. Rats only tripped you if you tripped on them, and they couldn't shove you into a locker. Unless there were a bunch of them. Like at our house. But there weren't any lockers at home so I wasn't worried.

Sorry to Pell's submitter that I changed him a bit but I doubt you were stoked to see me in particular write him just as you envisioned. If you were, I'm sorry.