Trayne Treadwell-Lang (17) D6M

I never cared for the work of Six. The Peacekeepers were always breathing down our necks, making sure we did everything perfectly. Even the smallest of mistakes might be enough for a beating that none of us workers could afford. It meant days without work and sometimes a lifetime where we never quite healed right. How was I supposed to have any passion for the job when I was supposed to be terrified all of the time? How could I even care when I knew I couldn't make a mistake if I tried, because someone else would correct it in a heartbeat?

That said, I never slacked. I would have if I could. I didn't particularly care if the Capitol's trains went at 199 mph instead of 200. It would never affect me in any substantial way. The Capitol took goods. It didn't provide them. We didn't stand to benefit from losing what few exports we had any faster. Not like our paychecks would be affected. Still, I never slacked. I was a good employee, always doing a little better than quota. Meeting quota was acceptable, but barely. Meet quota too many times and you might be jobless, something our family couldn't afford. For any form of job security, however slight, you had to exceed quota.

After work I was always wiped. Quota wasn't what a regular worker would manage at a regular pace; it was what an excellent worker could do with normal effort or what a normal worker could do with maximum effort. I was not proud to admit that I was a normal worker at best. Still, I couldn't just work and do nothing else. What sort of life would that be, waking, going to work, eating, and sleeping? It's not what a human was made for. I had to find some spark in my life or I'd just shrivel up. Luckily, my joy in life was a simple one.

"C'mon, Krash! You can do better than that," I jeered lightheartedly at my opponent. He was trying to score a goal and honestly doing a perfectly fine job. Sadly for him, I was the goalie, and I was doing an excellent job. It probably didn't help that he was using a terrible stick, just what we'd managed to find in scrap piles, and our puck wasn't truly round. In my defense, though, I had an equally terrible stick, and I was guarding a holey, warped goal. It wasn't exactly a regulation hockey game, I figured. Never actually saw a regulation game to compare it to.

"Go Trayne!" Tyrack called, as though I needed the encouragement. I loved the support of my team, even if it changed every game. That didn't mean I lived off it. I was completely locked into the one place in the world where I felt truly happy. My world was fulfilled by being a goalie.

Alley Parker (17) D6F

I wasn't proud to admit it wasn't the first time I had stabbed someone. Oh, sure, weapons were strictly prohibited among the inmates, but that didn't stop anyone from having them. We just had to pretend they had completely innocent uses. For instance, I was holding a tampon. Sure, I would die if I ever tried to use the tampon, but no Peacekeeper was going to examine my intimates to figure that out. To their knowledge, it was a "feminine product." To my knowledge, it held a sharpened bit of plastic instead of a piece of cotton. Hardly an effective knife, but a knife nonetheless.

Bianca had a lot of enemies in the joint. She was loud, she was rowdy, and she had gotten all of us into a group punishment. None of us would punish the first two. We mostly celebrated it. Once we all got lowered rations due to her misbehavior, though, we suddenly hated everything about her. It didn't take long for Didi to come up to me and ask for a favor. It was one I owed her, sadly. Meant I couldn't really say no and, worse, meant I wouldn't even get paid for the deed. Didn't mean I couldn't negotiate. I wasn't about to triple my sentence by stabbing Bianca in the neck. I was about to risk weeks of solitary by stabbing Bianca in the knee.

Calling attention to myself was never my thing. Being loud was never my thing. For once in my life, that wasn't a weakness. I slipped the tampon holder into my sleeve as I walked toward Bianca during our meager, four ounce lunch. She didn't think anything of my approach. I wasn't looking in her direction. A simple misdirection tactic, but an effective one. I also wasn't really walking with intent. I was wandering to nowhere in particular, slowly meandering toward her while she ate. She ate slowly, savoring each bite, as if to show the Peacekeepers she didn't regret her actions. I'd eaten in what must have been under twenty seconds, buying time to make my way to my prey.

It only took a second to stab her. I had to grab the end of the inserter, stabilizing the flimsy plastic so it didn't just bend in my grasp. I slammed it into Bianca with as much force as I could manage, then just kept walking like nothing had happened. I would have loved to grab my shank back from her, but I didn't make that kind of mistake. Lingering would have meant trouble. Walking away, even at my nonchalant pace, meant she wouldn't be able to reach me. Don't walk so fast without your left kneecap, after all. Bianca screamed as I walked away, trying to draw attention to herself. I noticed all of us ignore her.

Junior Warden Balancia, as we were supposed to call Bal, looked at me with suspicion as I wandered back to sit by my few friends. I gave her a salute. She knew exactly what I had done, of course. It wasn't exactly a secret, as subtle as my approach had been. Sadly for Bianca, there wouldn't be any justice done for her. That's what happens when you piss off every single one of the Peacekeepers in the prison. Sadly for me, I had one more enemy to deal with. Such was life, though. What was one more when every single person had one reason or another to hate you?

Svetlana "Lana" Mason (17) D6F

"Hey there, uggo," Mercedes called as soon as I walked into the school. My shoulders slumped as I saw her looming over my locker, a habit of hers I had come to expect. I always tried to remember that bullies are human. They have wants and needs and an inner dialogue just like anyone else. It's what Mom and Dad would have wanted me to remind myself of every time that Mercedes tried to find a new way to insult me. She never came up with anything I hadn't already heard from my aunt, but she also never stopped trying.

"Hi, Mercedes," I responded as dully as possible. I'd learned that things always went better if I didn't give her much to work with. I had to respond or she'd get on my case for not responding. I couldn't respond with emotion or she'd find some little thing I had done wrong to pick at. If I just barely acknowledged her, sometimes she'd get bored and leave.

"Oh em gee, scarface is still showing up?" Jeanie asked, coming down the hall toward us. "I thought she'd stop coming by now."

"Be careful, Jean. Believe it or not, she can actually hear. Despite... it all." Their taunts were nothing I hadn't heard before. I tried to shut them out. I tried to think that surely someone hurt them to make them this way. But I was bullied at home and at school and I didn't go around calling people names. I never tried to hurt anyone. I just wanted to have friends and live a normal life.

"How about you both shut up?" It's crazy to say, but I could feel my eyes light up when Amelia rounded the corner. Amelia, my brave, brash older sister who never hesitated. She always had a good comeback when she wanted to, but somehow she didn't even need one. Standing there, the perfect picture of posh, she made "how about you both shut up" sound like the coolest response possible. I wanted to be more like her, but I didn't have everything she had. I wasn't everything she was. Auntie made sure I knew that.

"Why even protect her?" Jeanie shot back, already backing away a little bit. They always left me alone if anyone else showed up. "She's not worth your time."

"If she's not worth my time, why are you wasting yours on her? Leave her alone and spend time doing better things, twerps." Amelia never needed to use the really mean insults to get people to listen to her. She peppered in just enough to make people hear what she was saying - actually hear it. I tried to mimic her, sometimes. I always came off too passive, to polite. Amelia was nice, but she knew how to come off as authoritative. I asked her to teach me, once, but she just said it was a talent not everyone had, and I didn't need to worry about it, because she'd protect me.

She didn't know how many times she wasn't there.

You ever forget about a story for like three months and then remember it exists and spend your family day writing it instead of actually socializing