Taffeta Katz, 18

District 8 Female

'Hair down? Or hair up?' It was a tough choice. I preferred the look of my caramel locks when they were down and flowing, but for a night of dancing at Gossamer, the biggest nightclub in District 8, having my hair up could be more comfortable.

I supposed that in the end, it wouldn't matter much anyways. Dacron would have it up in his fist by the end of the night regardless. He wasn't the best bag I'd ever had, but as the mayor, he was definitely the richest.

I'd never been satisfied with my rank in life. My parents were hard workers, but their work never got them anywhere; and yet, they were content. But I wouldn't settle. I was worth more than two factory workers could give me. But the rich men and women of District 8 knew what I had to give, and they paid me handsomely.

Mayor Dacron Windham was the latest in a long line of wealthy patrons. But he was special. He wanted me all to himself, and was willing to pay extra to keep me. He showered me with gifts and affection, spoiled me with fancy meals and extravagant dates, and even hosted me in his own home.

Three months ago, I officially moved in with him. His daughter Esther wasn't pleased, but I didn't care. She'd obey her father, and therefore, she'd obey me. Once I cemented my place in their household, I could drop some hints and get Esther kicked out. Then I would be queen.

I wasn't power-hungry, as some would believe. I knew my worth and I wasn't going to settle for less. If people couldn't provide me with the best, they weren't worth my time. I suspected my parents believed something was wrong with me. I remembered going to see a special doctor shortly after I turned twelve. I didn't get to hear his diagnosis, but my parents never treated me the same afterwards. I was curious, but not enough to pursue answers. I liked my life as it was. I didn't need some random mental health diagnosis ruining it.

I put the finishing touch on my smoky eyeshadow and got up to change into my dress. It was a short purple slip made of silk with a low back and a plunging neckline. I paired it with heeled black leather boots and a black clutch.

I heard the sound of a car pulling up the driveway and hurried to the front door. I reached it just as Dacron did, and planted a big kiss on his cheek when he stepped inside.

"Hi baby," I purred. "Ready for a fun night?"

"With you?" he asked. "Absolutely. I just need to shower and then I'll be ready." I nodded and kissed him again before releasing his tie and letting him out of my arms. He shot me a wink before heading upstairs, and someone made a gagging noise.

I glanced over to see Esther standing in the living room, a disgusted look on her face.

"Don't you have any shame?" she asked. Fury made her dark eyes snap and her cheeks flushed with rage as I cocked my head and twirled my hair around my finger.

"I would… but it doesn't get me anywhere," I said playfully. "You should try loosening up and having some fun. You're not ugly; let me do your makeup sometime and then we can hit up the clubs!"

"You are a pathetic excuse for a human being," Esther snapped. She tossed her dark hair and stalked out of the room. I giggled. Messing with Esther was just so much fun.

Once Dacron was showered and ready, and we had a quick makeout session in the hallway, we were off. Off to dance the night away and celebrate the successes we'd worked so hard for.

Calceus "Cal" Monson, 16

District 8 Male

I tip-toed through the kitchen as quietly as I could, my heels clasped in my hand. I didn't dare wear the noisy shoes into the house, but even holding them felt dangerous. I had to make it back to my room unnoticed.

But physical endeavors were never my strong suit. Just as I reached the stairs, a shoe slipped from my hand and thumped onto the tile. I winced and snatched it back up, but I could already hear my parents stirring. I darted upstairs, desperate to make it to my room, but only ran straight into my father.

"Calceus!" he gasped. "What the hell is going on?"

"Sorry," I squeaked. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Cal?" my mom asked, peeking out of her bedroom. Her blonde hair was in curlers. "Were you at another one of your shows?" I hung my head.

"Yes."

"What have we told you about those silly shows?" my dad yelled. "You are a man, not a showgirl. Your mother and I expected so much more from you."

"I'm sorry dad," I whispered. "I just… I like performing."

"Calceus," my mom sighed. "It's a waste of time. You are destined for so much more in life." I kept my eyes on my bare feet and tried to blink back my tears.

"After the reaping, we're going to get you involved with the company," my dad said. "It's about time you do some real work."

I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back my tears. My parents would never understand. They cared more about their business and their reputation than their own kid. They put so much pressure on me to be the perfect son. And I wasn't even sure if I was a son!

I wasn't out to anyone, but I was genderfluid. I mostly referred to myself as a male, but on the stage, it was different. I was Calponia, and I was beautiful. Calceus wasn't like her. Calceus could never be like her.

"I'm pretty tired…" I said, clutching my heels tighter. "Can we talk tomorrow?"

"Fine," my mom said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "But this nonsense has to stop. You know that."

I didn't respond. I just slipped past my parents and into my room, where I flung myself down on my bed and let myself sob. As a kid, I thought my parents loved me. Now that I was older, I wasn't sure. They were never kind, and only paid attention to me when I messed up. I tried so hard, and it was never enough.

But my audience loved me. I could sing and dance and act and be myself, and the people attending the shows loved it. I was safe to be myself onstage. I just wanted that same safety - that same love - at home. And I was afraid I would never get it.

Cleopatra "Cleo" Laurier, 22

District 8 Escort

I was back in District 8; which was not where I wanted to be. Honestly, I wasn't sure why I hadn't been promoted to District 1, 2, or 4. Or even 5 or 7, where the tributes were stronger or richer. 8 was a small, smoggy district with no potential.

Even the victors were pathetic. Cecelia wasn't so bad, and Kelsi was bearable, but Woof and Zander were idiots. Woof hadn't been coherent since his stroke and I doubted Zander even graduated.

But I had to put on a fake smile and act happy. I was an escort after all, and I was damn good at my job. I wasn't going to throw away my chances at a promotion because the tributes or mentors complained. Kelsi was in her mid-80s by now, so she was mostly retired from mentoring. And Woof was in no state to coach a tribute. So I was stuck with Zander and Cecelia again.

"Good morning Cleo," a too-chipper voice said. I immediately recognized it as Zander's and I summoned my brightest smile.

"Good morning," I said smoothly. I ran my hands down my sides and then struck a pose. "How do I look?"

"Amazing!" Zander exclaimed. If there was anything he was good for, it was fashion tips. Fashion tips and compliments. And though I didn't need his tips, I didn't mind knowing what was "in" amongst the districts. As long as I could still wear diamonds.

Diamonds were my thing. I had them braided into my hair, inlaid into my clothes, and woven into my thigh-highs. Even my strappy heels sparkled with the precious gemstone. I was literally a shining star.

"Is everyone else here?" Zander asked, looking around the empty room.

'No, they clearly aren't', I sassed in my head, but just shook it as an actual response.

"Not yet."

"Oh…" Zander trailed off and I looked around awkwardly. 'Please let Cecelia be here soon'.

Almost as if I'd summoned her, the door opened and Cecelia came inside, followed by Woof. Kelsi was last, leaning heavily on her cane.

"Hello," she said, her voice tired and strained. I returned the greeting.

"Sorry we're late," Cecelia said. She looked tired too. "We had an… incident to deal with."

"Well, you're here now," I said curtly. "Which means we can get started. Remember, don't come on stage until I introduce you."

"I have been doing this longer than you have been alive," Kelsi grumbled. I rolled my eyes and marched over to the door leading to the stage.

I waited impatiently for the cameraman across the stage to give me a queue, and when he did I strutted out onto the stage, flashing my most winning smile.

"Hello District 8! I hope you're ready for the Hunger Games to kick off! I know I am!" The crowd clapped, but it was half-hearted. They never had enough enthusiasm. Internally sighing, I readjusted the microphone and continued my spiel.

"Before we actually select our tributes, we have a short film to watch. But first, please welcome our past victors!"

Kelsi slowly led the three other victors onto the stage. Zander had to help Woof into his chair before scurrying back to his own. Once they were all seated, I cut off the quiet applause.

"Please direct your attention to the screens!" I called. Then I pressed a button to bring them to life. We all watched as a boring narrator told the story of the war and the rise of the Hunger Games. Honestly, where did they even find this guy? He was more boring to listen to than my uncle when he talked about quantum physics.

When it finally ended, I hurriedly switched off the screens. Now it was time for the fun part.

"Shall we start with the ladies?" I asked, though I was already on my way to the corresponding glass bowl. I selected a slip and read the name aloud.

"Taffeta Katz!"

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Clearly Taffeta was well-known. Even Mayor Windham looked shocked. But Taffeta, a pretty girl with caramel-brown hair and impeccable makeup, seemed confident. She had a knowing smile on her face and hugged me when she climbed the stairs.

"Your outfit is amazing!" she squealed. Then she turned to the cameras. "Thank you so much for this wonderful opportunity!"

"And thank you for your bravery!" I responded, this time with a genuine smile on my face. I liked Taffeta. She would do well, I was sure.

Then I selected a slip from the other bowl. Would this boy be as personable as Taffeta? I was excited to find out.

"Calceus Monson!"

The boy who stepped forward was definitely not like Taffeta. He was handsome, with freckles and blonde curls, but he had tears in his eyes and he was shaking violently. Still, he looked nice in his rich jewel-toned outfit and polished dress shoes. He might stand a chance, but if he didn't stop the waterworks soon nobody would be impressed.

But his tears continued as he joined Taffeta and I on the stage. Taffeta gingerly held out a hand to the crying boy and he shook it. I turned to the cameras.

"District 8, I give you your tributes: Taffeta Katz and Calceus Monson!"

Hi! I'm back with another chapter! And I can't type Ls now! I'm using my dad's old laptop while mine is being fixed, so I don't have to copy-and-paste every L. It's nice to have a working computer. And hopefully this chapter was nice too! It's definitely not my best work, but I had fun, so hopefully it's fun to read. Thank you to Victoria the Bipolar Tribute for Taffeta, Carlpopa707 for Calceus, and KitKathy520 for Cleo! I feel like Cleo might come off a little mean, which wasn't my intention. I was going for sassy... so we'll see what you all think. So leave a review and let me know!

Questions

1) Who did you prefer between Taffeta and Cal? Why?

2) Who has been your least tribute so far? (reminder to submitters: all of your tributes are amazing! this is kind of because I'm running out of question ideas)

3) Is there anything else you'd like to see in my writing?

Have a nice day, be kind to each other, and never stop reading!

- Fiona