Wisteria Oleander | District One

SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN | FEMALE | DISTRICT ONE | SARA SAMPAIO
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L I S T E N

"Genetics have bestowed the greatest gift of all upon you—beauty," My mother once told me. "But Mother, beauty is not the greatest gift of all," I replied. "The greatest gift of all is compassion." My mother rolled her eyes and said, "Unfortunately, my dear Wisteria, you do not bear the gift of compassion."

She's right, I suppose. I am not very compassionate, but I am very beautiful. I would like to be compassionate, but as Mother said, "things never work out the way you want them to." I don't always listen to her, but it's hard not to when she's practically screaming in your ear. My mother is obsessed with manners, so naturally I grew up dotting my I's and crossing my T's. She is a perfectionist, who hoped to have perfect children with her perfect husband. Unfortunately, I'm not the perfect daughter she wants me to be. What my mother doesn't understand is that no one is perfect, not even her. Of course, when I told her this, she sent me to my room. Enough about my wretched, annoying mother. Let's move onto me.

I was born to lovely parents in a lovely mansion in District One. I was brought to a lavish velvet-red nursery on the top floor of the Oleander family mansion. It was huge, and decorated with red satin bows and porcelain trinkets. Mother always sang me a lullaby about Father buying me a mockingbird (I don't think I'd ever want one). As a baby, I was quite a sight to see. I had supple, light olive skin and gorgeous, lustrous ebony curls upon my round head. My inquisitive eyes were bright blue, but later on as I aged, they faded to pale green. My eyelashes were black as night and ridiculously long and curly. Needless to say, I looked like an expensive collector's doll. Mother would brush my curly hair everyday and pin a satin bow in my hair. The color of the bow changed everyday, to velvet red, white, Caribbean blue, lavender, blush pink, sunset orange, forest green, lemon yellow, and more. She'd dress me in full, expensive dresses that were long and covered my feet. On each dress, there was at least one bow. Small or big, satin or velvet, there was always a bow. My tiny, chubby feet were always encased in pricey designer shoes, which of course had a bow somewhere on it. It was bows, bows, bows galore for me.

Growing up in a rich district with rich parents who spoiled me, you'd think that I would grow up to be a selfish little brag. If you thought so, you're wrong. I strive to be selfless among all things. I try not to covet, I try not to ask for silly, meaningless gifts. People say I try to be something I'm not. I am not selfless, but I am not selfish or spoiled. However, I am looked at as a spoiled, selfish rich girl who has not a care in the world! I suppose this is because of the prestige of my last name. Everyone knows the Oleander family is a family who values manners, beauty, and wealth. These are not things people should value. People should value intelligence, honesty, bravery, kindness, and charity. These are things I believe in. But not Mother, not Father. Not my younger sister, Belladonna, but maybe my younger brother, Asterales.

As a young child, between the ages of four and seven, I was very close with Asterales (I call him Aster for short since his name is a mouthful). Mother and I always fought and she scolded me for my ill manners. I've never liked to wait my turn to talk, keep my elbows off the table, put my napkin in my lap, always ask to be excused from the table, ect. Long story short, I think manners are useless. I am not ladylike, like Mother wants me to be, but I am girly, at least. When I was young, I'd love to be dressed in expensive designer dresses and have my hair arranged in complex hairstyles (to Mother's delight). Ladylike and girly are two completely different things. Whenever Mother lectured me about my behavior, Father would read the newspaper and pretend not to notice, but sometimes I caught a look of disapproval from him directed at me. Asterales, who is only a year younger than me, was even worse than me. He was so bad to the point that even Father punished him for his behavior (and Father hates to punish us). Belladonna is a different story. Belladonna seemed to be the perfect angel of the family. Being the youngest (four years younger than me), she seemed to be the sweetest. This angelic behavior was only an act to get Mother and Father's favor. Deep inside, Belladonna is a selfish little brat. She pretends to be everything a lady should be: poised, beautiful, well-mannered, and gentle. Belladonna had had my parents fooled, but after eight years of her phony act, other people began to suspect. By the time Bella was ten (I was fourteen), everyone knew what a brat she is. By fourteen, I started training for the Games. Belladonna and Asterales started the same time I did, which was early for them. I was late, but I caught on quickly. Being intelligent and cunning, I had a knack for strategy. I'm no good with knives, but I'm great with a glaive. Luckily for me, training didn't take over my life like so many other people in District One, who stayed up at night until they passed out training. Training, training, training. That's all I ever hear (at least not from my parents; they were never into the Games much).

I have always been free-spirited and strong-headed, but by the time I was fifteen, I gave up on resisting my mother. I gave into etiquette at last. I became the lady my mother wanted me to be. Asterales was disappointed, and Belladonna was horrified that she was no longer the favorite. Mother was thrilled, but Father seemed neutral, as if nothing had changed. They still had to scold Asterales, of course. I am rebellious, but that will not do, not for my parents. I hid my rebellious nature, and I still do, but when I turn eighteen, I plan to rip off my expensive dresses and tear off the bows in my hair and kick off my shiny high heels and go wild. Maybe throw the tablecloth on the floor, spill the wine, say trillions of cuss words (which is like a crime to my parents). Everyday, at midnight, I would climb out the window and jump into a tree by my room and run across the broad grounds of my home, and jump over the fence to meet my friends on the roof of Lace's house (who lives next door to me). We'd talk about boys and annoying siblings and random topics, and laugh together like friends do. We would just bond under the stars and the midnight sky on the roof. I didn't have to worry about parents or siblings or manners. All my worries washed away when I was with my friends.

Sixteen truly is sweet like they say. By sixteen, I was given more freedom, and I has grown more beautiful than I was before. I have high cheekbones, smooth olive skin, long dark hair, a cute little nose, full rosy lips, and the same inquisitive chocolate brown eyes I've always had. I grew one inch, and I am now five foot five and I have not grown since my sixteenth birthday. When I woke up that morning, I doused myself in makeup and dressed myself in a lovely red velvet dress embellished with white lace. I slipped on my black heels and wore pearl jewelry on my finger, wrist, ears and neck. After I was done getting ready, I stared at myself in the mirror for about ten minutes. I was not admiring my beauty, like I a normal girl would have (that's disgustingly vain). Instead, I shook my head and asked my reflection, "who are you?" Then I answered, "I am Wisteria Oleander. And I am going to make it through today without displeasing Mother. I'm going to show everyone that I'm all grown up." But I wasn't all grown up (I'm still not, and I'm seventeen). Deep down, I am childish. I realized that when I turned sixteen. I did end up pleasing Mother, and I think I did a good job showing everyone how mature I had gotten (some other family members came over to celebrate). I even got my first kiss from the boy I liked since I was fourteen at school. My birthday was everything I could have hoped for. People brought me expensive presents (I didn't really want them, but it was rude to decline a gift), my parents threw me a huge party after school, and I even got a huge cake that my mother made (she is a great cook).

Now I'm seventeen, and a lot has happened since my sixteenth birthday. It turns out my father was seeing another woman, so my parents divorced, leaving me and Asterales and Belladonna with our mother. Father is living with the woman he cheated on Mother with (her name is Jewel). Mother has been torn apart by Father's unexpected betrayal. All she does is sit in a rocking chair staring blankly at the newspaper that Father would have been reading. Asterales is finally minding his manners, careful not to anger Mother. Not even Belladonna dares to stir up any drama. We're all skating on thin ice around our Mother. She's exploded with rage before, but her anger quickly melted away to tears. I've never felt so bad for Mother before. I never thought anything could get her down, being a strong woman. My father has tried to apologize to me, but I just spat, "from the bottom of my heart, Dad, I really don't give a shit. You're apologizing to the wrong person." Then I walked away. I haven't seen him since then. I didn't feel any remorse for how rude I was to him. Mother wouldn't have scolded me for that, I know. To sum me up, I'm intelligent, cunning, strategic, bold, rebellious, free-spirited, and stubborn. I am not the spoiled rich girl I appear to be, nor do I like to use my manners (seriously, they're over rated). "Looks are very deceiving," my mother once said. "If you're smart, Wisteria, you'll never judge someone by their appearance." This is the single piece of useful advice Mother has given me. These words are etched into my mind forever, and I can't help but let these words echo in my head every time I meet someone new.

ODAIR