Stellar Jay :||: District 9 :||: FIN

18 :: Age
9 :: District
M :: Gender

I could always see numbers. They were there before I could speak, before I could walk, before I understood feeling. And I thought this was normal. I thought every kid saw numbers scrawled out on the wall, in the food they ate. I definitely thought that Mocking could see the numbers too. See, we’re only a year apart and because he’s my brother, I thought that for certain he was normal like me. I never told Ma or Pa because I had this weird feeling as a kid that adults lost their ability to see numbers. At the time, I was scared about what would happen if I couldn’t see the numbers anymore. Now, I want it to happen, but I know it never will.

As a child, I was always sickly and rarely ate because I was convinced that eating the numbers was a bad thing. I’ve filled out a lot since my ignorant days, but sometimes illness will grab me violently and leave me at home—always doing homework though. With Ma hanging over my shoulder, I could never take a rest, even if I am deathly sick. Because of her tight grasp on my studies, my skin remains the pale shade I was born with, much unlike Mocking’s slightly tanned skin. If only I could go out into the sun and tan too. But Ma will never leave me alone and it’s rather frustrating.

I regret the day I told Ma; she thinks it’s a marvelous gift. Pa found it very interesting and I remember him smiling, but he has given me my space and when I tell him I don’t want to do my homework, he understands. Pa really is an interesting man. His shoeboxes have been filling the room since I remembered and while the placement might seem random—or more out of necessity as space is running out—I can see the patterns and the numbers that connect each shoebox. 10. 18. 67. 48. 37.

It’s not just numbers I see; I’m actually really good with words too. I think that was developed more after I started reading things at four, which doesn’t make me a genius but the fact that I can retain written information does. It’s not as simple as seeing the words and remembering the permanently; I actually have to take the time to commit to it. But according to some people, I don’t have to look over it as many times as they do and I can hold more information in my brain. Why would I want to, though? I already have enough trouble pushing out the numbers. Like letters are really any better.

But the one thing I have trouble remembering are images. If I wanted to tell someone what I look like, I have to hold up a mirror. Like right now. I can tell you that my eyes are very blue which someone told me is a family trait. I also have dark hair that I guess is considered unruly? Ma tends to fuss with it a lot if we are going to some important place. My nose looks kind of long and raised, I guess, and people have said that my face is angular but I don’t really understand them when they say that. And when I do see myself, I have trouble comparing my looks to others because I just have so much damn trouble remembering the details.

I have 5 other siblings too, 6 if you consider Jabber, but he’s really more of a housemate than anything. There’s 10 of us in the house and while the house isn’t that small, it’s pretty damn small for 10 people. We manage, though, and we older ones make sure the younger ones are living okay. They need it the most, because at the rate of their development 5x + 79/4 – e^4—I know the answer but I don’t want to know the answer. That’s how it works every time: the numbers and letters will fall into place and more numbers follow. It’s annoying as hell and yeah, it happens naturally. Ma keeps telling me to write it all down, but why would I want to.

But really my siblings are great; or at least I’d rather have all of them than none of them. I tower over 5/7 of them (I have included Jabber in this), but I could never beat Mocking in height. The last time we did a measurement, he cleared me by at least an inch. Jabber is about my height. But as for the younger ones, they are still small in my eyes, regardless of the fact that our ages are really not that far apart. Fawn and Storm are both the shy ones, the ones who don’t talk that often. Storm is also often studying but not for the same reason as me. He likes burying his nose in a book; I hate being stuck with pen and paper. Mist, Storm’s twin, is difficult to control and I’ve long since given up on her. I’m pretty sure Storm and Mocking are the only ones who can stay on her good side the whole time. Red is blind and is often very frustrated, understandably. He’s often told—or shouted—how lucky I am to be able to see my numbers and that I should be happy that I have this ability. But the numbers are my blindness. They cloud my vision too, so wouldn’t he understand? And Violet, the baby of the family. Once I was able to see her as more than numbers, I loved being around her. There’s a quality about her that’s more than just numbers, and I would never let anyone take that away.

Being in District 9, I’ll probably end up working in a refinery—working with numbers. Unfortunately, between Ma and my teachers, my seeing numbers has been seen by the management as a different resource. Is it too much to ask for a break? I hate it when I see my teachers and they have such expectant looks in their eyes. I just want to spend my days in my bed, in my chair, outdoors with Mocking, playing with Violet. Anything where I don’t have to see another damn word or number. Especially numbers. Those things can go to hell.

:: odair

Part of Jay family plot
FC :: Tom Hughes