Derry
Derry's stylist walked in, clutching a new dress. [color=#FFBF00]"Come with me. We need to sort you out."
"But I thought I was already dressed up..." she mumbled, confused. Nobody else seemed to be changing again.
"We want to show off everything about you, especially your district. Now, come." They took her into another room, and handed her a dress. It was black, with bright blue and pink thread sewn around it to look like electricity. Derry let them sort her hair out, scooping it up and twirling it.
This is stupid, dressing us up although we're going to die soon. she thought to herself. The stylist thrusted a mirror into her face, before shoving her back into the other room. She looked at everybody nervously, sighing. Now they're probably going to think that I'm some posh, stuck-up kid. she thought to herself sadly.