YA novel

The whole town of Distopia wakes up with the same three birds chirping a continuous soundtrack. They all get ready for the day within the time period of 5 o'clock to 7 o'clock in the morning, most putting on the same suits that the one store in town carries. There are a few that wear the orange jumpsuits. I hate suits and the color orange washes me out. In the back of my closet I have a deep red sweatshirt with two holes in the arms where I poke my thumbs through. 

Everyone in Distopia wears masks. We have a selection of six, happiness, happiness, happiness, happiness, happiness, and elation. All of the females look the same and all of the males looks the same. I make my choice and walk out of my sliding door looking for the one guy that I can rely on. It's almost too late, but just in time he comes trotting by my porch with a pair of deep red converses that he had to color in just yesterday for the seventeenth time this month. He wears the same mask that I do, the one wear we pretend that we aren't dying to escape. But where else can we go? Everywhere gives the same mask, everywhere has the same two people that find love through deep red clothing, everywhere has a sob story that they think is so different from the others. So instead of throwing away our masks we wear them all. 

After all neither of us really look good in orange.