Montgomery Parrish, District 1

Name: Montgomery Algernon Parish
Age: 16
District: 1

I hear a bird chirping, up in the sky
I’d like to be free like that spread my wings so high

When I was growing up, I was f—king awkward. Okay, so you know how some kids would line up and they’d take that picture of all of us? Well I was always the one in the back. I’m not very photogenic. People have this tendency to say that I look cute in pictures, but really, I hate it when people look at me. It makes me uncomfortable, and I try to hide it the best I can, but I used to be taller and skinnier than everyone else, and it’s just one of those things that you never really get used to. I try not to think about it too much, but what can you do when you live in this district? People try so hard to emulate the capitol, they want to be the capitol, they f—king think that’s the way to live, and it’s just ridiculous.

So I take that back. I mean yeah, sometimes I want to dress fancy, and put on a suit and look like my hair has been dyed to match my clothes. I have a tendency to put a single streak in my hair. I don’t know where it came from, but it makes me happy. It makes me feel a little different than the rest of them, and who gives a s—t if they think that I look ridiculous. It’s taken me so long to feel comfortable in my own skin. I finally feel like I understand it, or at least, that I’m starting to understand it. I like me. I do! And not in that way that a lot of guys or girls get with the, “I’m the greatest gift to god’s green earth,” you know? I just think that I like who I am. I like being me. And if that isn’t good enough for someone else, well… tough!

Except I don’t mean that.

I see the river flowing water running by
I’d like to be that river, see what I might find

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I grew up tall and lanky, and it was one of those things that saved me from being picked on, most of the time. Everyone always equates being tall with so many things. They would say I was more mature, that I was smarter, that I was stronger than others. But in truth, my height didn’t give me anything, other than the ability to see over other people’s heads. I guess that gave me something, because I could just look past those things that people would say about me.

Oh, you know those things. They would say that I would never be a champion in the Games because of the way I carried myself. I seemed to be too fragile, too sensitive. And I liked to play with girls, not with boys, and with my mind, not with weapons. I didn’t play pretend stab-through-the-stomach or the game where we would choose a boy to tackle and then pile on top of him until he couldn’t move (although I think that would be a fun game to play now… I guess that was a missed opportunity)! I just wasn’t as interested in the things that were about warfare and bloodshed. It just seemed… dull to me. And so many people have it hard enough as it is, why do we need to be reminded of that by stabbing each other every chance we get?

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I guess now I’ve put on a little more weight, and I’m almost five foot eight. That is tall enough! I know what you’re thinking. I used up all my tallness when I was a kid. Well, just you wait, there’s going to be a growth spurt in the next year or two, and then all of you will realize what was meant to be! No, f—k that. I do just fine how I am.

My parents are probably some of the coolest people you’d ever meet in the district. I mean, I’m pretty lucky I guess. A lot of times people don’t have anyone to look up to, but I look up to both of them. Okay, so it’s totally uncool for me to say that, right? Like, you’re not supposed to think that your parents are what you want to be when you grow up past the age of five but… I mean, they’ve gotten me this far, and I’m grateful for it.

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My mother, Margie, is a fine artist. She has all sorts of clients who ask her for paintings, portraits, still life, backgrounds… she’s nothing if not a maniac about color. Color is life, she says. And she always adds something that’s completely her own to whatever she makes. Seriously, you wouldn’t believe the sort of thing that people would ask for out of her, but she’s so talented, they seek her out to paint. I always wondered why she didn’t just make it to the capitol—I mean, why didn’t she just stay there if she was so good? I’ve never asked her. I think it might have to do with my Dad, that maybe the two of them were so happy with one another that they settled here and never wanted to leave.

Geoffrey makes shoes. He’s a craftsman to the highest degree. He spends hours in his studio, just like my mom, trying to figure out the best way to encapsulate the next capitol trend. He spends hours and hours hammering at a shoe, adding heels and making them higher and higher and with ridiculous amounts of feathers and what have you. I asked him once how he knew what people wanted to wear on their feet, and he just looked at me. “They don’t want to be boring. And if they can stand without breaking an ankle, they will. And sometimes, they’ll just have someone carry them around if they can’t.”

The man’s a f—king genius.




I guess you must have realized by now that the two of them aren’t really that interested in the games. Yes, it’s treason I get that. We’re in District 1 and my brother and I are supposed to be careers and la-di-dah, la-di-dah. We’re a bunch of nogoodniks. But seriously, they were going to have to drag me kicking and screaming if they thought I was going to step into camp I-can’t-think-for-myself. If I picked would I go? Well, s—t wouldn’t that be funny? A District 1 that didn’t really know how to fight. Not that I’m entirely useless with a knife, but I can guarantee that I wouldn’t be getting a 12 as my training score.

So when we were growing up I just… well I just didn’t really get into that whole life, you know? I liked painting. I liked color. I liked music. I liked writing, and thinking about how people think. And so I got to do what I liked. I got to really just… be. I guess not a lot of other people get to do that, you know? I’m really grateful for it, but it’s also been tough when people here don’t really understand the stuff that I like. When your hobby is sharpening a blade and doing a hundred push-ups, then when I ask if they want to draw with some charcoal with me… it’s not like I have a lot of friends.

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But who needs that, right? I’ve always been more of a loner anyway. I’m talkative, but if you’re not going to listen to me, I’m not going to waste my time with you. I mean, I do take some special delight in making people look like idiots. That’s a hobby of mine. When I can get you to say something stupid, especially when you don’t know why it’s stupid… well, that’s kind of a game that I like to play here. And there are a lot of dullards in district 1, I don’t know if it’s in the water or too much muscle in the brain.

Oh, and… well, I like boys. I mean. I don’t think it’s a big deal or anything. Some people might think it is. I never really thought that that was such an issue. My parents certainly don’t think so. I guess I first noticed when I would watch the guys that would go off to train, just how they looked… f—k, I know it’s such a hypocritical thing to say, but they do look good. I’m not going to lie. Some of those career boys… phew, I wouldn’t mind letting them train me (wait, did I just say… nah, nevermind).

I see the moon a risin’, reaching into night
I’d like to be that moon, a knowing glowing light

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I guess you could call me loyal, too. I mean, I just think that most people aren’t entirely sh—ty. Most of them are decent when you cut through everything that they’re saying. I just try and make people understand that they are pretty great, if they think about it. People have so much to contribute to Panem besides their bodies… that’s what my parents really taught me. We’re more than just the some of our parts, working for some old white guy sitting on a throne somewhere.

And people have a story, sometimes, a really fascinating story that they’re aching to tell. You can’t just judge them because they don’t look like you or like the same things. Some of us live and breathe and go on living and living—and we never even see all this beautiful stuff right in front of us. So I try to live like that… I try and make room for what I don’t know about someone before I roll my eyes. Although, I’m pretty bad at not judging people. It gets me into trouble… but hey, I’m still learning. Living, loving, learning… and growing up, too.

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Codeword: Odair