Foxface's story...

So, hi guys... Me and my friend in RL are having this competition, and my friend is writing a story from Peeta's perspective, and i'm writing mine from Foxfaces. So, I just wanted to post it here for people to read, and just to have a second copy of it. So, yea. It sucks, I know. I will be constantly working on this until she reaches her death during the games, BUT, i will put 3 different/alternate endings. Though, I shall not spoil them. enjoy. (:

Lilika Nakos as escort & Rye & Ginger & Check as stylist’s. Name creds to Clover.
Arianne ‘Foxface’ Harlow
Start at the Reaping. 15 hour train ride to the Capitol, assuming District 5 is closer to the Capitol than twelve.
Ladies first. Then boy. Adrian Rystar.



“It is Time,” the Districts escort had a smile plastered onto her fake, bright lips. “To announce the two tributes this year, to represent our District in The annual Hunger Games!”

“Ladies First!” Lilika’s voice boomed out throughout the District Square, only descending more despair and sadness to the families gathered around. The reaping was no day to celebrate, no day to be happy. For all you knew, as a teen like me, you could be next. Anyone from the ages twelve to eighteen could be the next tribute brought into the arena to fight to the death, nothing left of you except the memories you struggled to leave with your family. The train of thoughts suddenly crashed, as the escort for District Five, finally read out the name for this year’s girl tribute. She unfolded the paper slip, her fake, genetically altered smile stuck on her face. Finally, after the slip was unfolded, she read out the name. And it was about time she did.

“Arianne Harlow!” My heart stopped. She was kidding, right? I couldn’t have possibly gotten reaped. I didn’t want to get reaped. I was not Hunger Games material. Not. At. All. I was the opposite, really. Fifteen and only 5’5, I stood no chance against anyone else who would enter that arena. Not even a little twelve-year-old, if anyone didn’t volunteer in his or her place. I began making my way towards the stage, where Lilika was standing, with two glass bowls by her side. It was only a matter of time before she called out the boy tributes name, and boy, I couldn’t wait to see who would die with me in the arena. Haha, kidding. I just wanted to run away, I just wanted to leave this place. But, I had no choice. My life was going to end.

I approached the stage meekly, as Lilika took grab of one of my sleeves, practically pulling me up the remainder of the steps and shouted into the crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Arianne Harlow,” She said, a little too happily, “Our female tribute for this year!” She disgusted me, really. Her snow-white hair just bothered me. She was wearing a dress with way too many sparkles for my liking, and white lipstick? WHITE LIPSTICK? Wow. Capitol citizens are really queer, aren’t they? She shut her eyelids once more, taking in a nice deep breathe before pulling out the next slip, revealing her matching snow-white eyelids. Wow. No, just… no. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and look away from her, trying to find the remains of my family in the crowd. I only had my Mum, My pa, being an only child and all. But, knowing them, they probably ran home crying knowing their only child was going to die within the month. But, who knows. Maybe I could survive. Maybe winning was a possibility.

The barrier of silence broke as the next name was called, revealing who the boy tribute this year would be. “Adrian Rystar,” She yelled enthusiastically, “Will be our male tribute for the 74th Hunger Games” Congratulations to both our tributes, and maybe the odds be ever in your favor”! I could hear the weeps from his family, as the “no’s” and the “Don’t Go’s” from his family screamed out into the polluted air. You could tell they were weak people, practically choking on their own tears. But soon enough, the male tribute was at my side, ready to face whatever challenges stood in our way. The crowd murmured amongst themselves, probably betting what places we were going to hold, even though they hadn’t even seen the other tributes yet. I guess that’s District Five for you. You’re typical gossip loving electricity-producing District.

The mayor takes his place, centering himself next to Lilika on the stage, and begins reading the Treaty Of Treason out to the District Citizens. It’s required to be read every year, at the same time, so everyone knows what the deal is. Even though I was far from giving a crap about it. My thoughts shifted from listening to nothing but my own thoughts, to Adrian. I’d not known him well, though we did share some eye contact and laughing moments in the District school, but other than that, we were legitimately strangers to each other. I think it’s better that way. Why? Well, so we don’t get too attached and end up debating on who should kill when we’re in the arena. If we even make it that far. If he even wants to make an alliance with me. “No…” I think to myself. I don’t want allies in the games. The only thing I want is to survive. Run and hide- A pretty solid plan, right? Let’s see what my mentor(s) would have to say about that though, if they knew anything about the games anymore. They seemed to be drunkards; Intoxicated people who have given up on life.

I realize, how stupid I probably look up in on stage, staring off into space, thinking of plans for the games already. I mean, I’m a pretty smart girl, I knew a lot of strategies, and I know a lot of things. But, right now, I was not doing the smartest thing. My fingers nervously began combing my hair, making the knots smooth out as I tugged at each knot harder and harder. The only thing that murmured in my ears was the mayor’s bland, boring voice. It really fit him though. The point that he’s short and chubby, the voice made him humorous, one might say. Though, his voice did easily bore anyone. It was bland, emotionless, and everything he said, made it seem like there was a funeral going on. But, there never was. I, in my own opinion, clarified him as creepy. He seems like that man who would appear at your doorstep at night, just to kill you for sport. Just for fun. Just like tributes do to each other in The Hunger Games. ‘Cept this guy was ten times creepier.

The bland, boring voice of the mayor ceased itself, releasing relief and a sigh out of me. However, things didn’t go over so well next. I was grabbed again- the same way Lilika dragged me onto the stage, except this time by 2 people, and 4 hands. They weren’t dragging me, but they were forcing me to continue walking, towards the Justice Building. Yep, I thought so. This was where the final goodbyes happened. This was the last chance people got to see you before you were sent off to the games. Honestly, I wanted to see my parents once more. I wanted them to see me go off to the Capitol, and remember me forever. I mean, I know they’d remember me, but still. I didn’t want this morning, at breakfast, to be the last memory I had with them. It’s just wrong- Wrong and sad.

The air of the Justice building quickly shifts from the pollution of District Five, to a more clear, breathable resource. Probably specially made breathable for all the Capitol snobs sent here to treat as like royalty. That is of course, until we’re sent off into the arena to die. Then, boy, I think all hope for their tribute gets lost, right then and there. However the hell they enter the arena, that’s the moment the Capitolites know it’s over for their tribute. Their work to make them look their best, then, send them off to die. With a happy note? Maybe, maybe not. I eye the insides of the Justice Building, soaking in the new environment. It was fancy, and it was amazing. I wonder if this is what all the buildings in the Capitol were like. Large, spacious, and the couches coated in velvet? The only thing Velvet I’ve really seen was parts of my mum’s dress, and some curtains lying around in our house. But sitting on it? Boy, it was really comfortable. I take my seat next to Adrian, realizing I haven’t said a single word. But, as I finally build up the courage to break the awkward silence, they grab him, and bring him into another room in the building. This was where the goodbyes began. This is where the end of our lives, finally begun. My arm stuck out, lingering in the open air, as I went by unnoticed by him. Not even a second glance. just a glare & leave. Quite rude, if you ask me. but then again, nobody ever asked me about anything. Like, ever.

It was like a countdown, really. Knowing death would punch me in the face within the next month. Hell, I might even die on the way to the Capitol, being pampered by their deranged, preppy ways. And now, here I was, sitting on the red velvet couch, waiting for my parents. Were they even going to come? I mean, they were good, smart, kind people, and an event like this may have destroyed them on the inside. And frequently, it kind of destroyed me inside too. Just the thought of having to go into an arena and do the things you have to just send that shiver down your spine. A shiver down my spine, in this case.

Now that I come to think of it, I didn’t spot my parents in the crowd after I got reaped. The point that most of us were split into age group made it even harder to locate them once shoved into place. But the consequence of not being at the reaping is punishable by death. Is it possible they skipped the reaping, and were now being executed whilst I stand here, scared and hopeless? Because right now, I could use their support. I could use anything, really; their ideas, their wisdom, anything. Well, I guess it’s not like they were in the games or anything. They probably didn’t know crap about the games; unless they paid more attention then I did watching them on T.V. Then, the door slid open, and in came my parents- Both of them.

They came rushing in, arms spread out wide as a smirk planted itself upon my lips. The smile soon sprouted into something bigger, as I stood myself up, embracing the warmth of my mom and dads hugs. But, there was someone I caught out of the corner of my eye, standing by the doorway. It was no peacekeeper, since the person lacked a uniform. It wasn’t another tribute, since Adrian was already in another room. I wasn’t exactly sure who it was. Was that my mentor? The one who would guide me through the games, support me, and give me strategies and ideas to use in the arena? I wasn’t sure, but I also wasn’t too eager to find out. I’ve already got my own strategies figured out, and I don’t need some washed up old man or woman to tell me what to do. I am smart enough to manage. Maybe not tough enough to survive throughout the whole time in the arena, but smart enough to outwit the other tributes… I hope.