Gideon Avery // District 4 // Done

Long ago, in a small fishing village called District Four, a babe by the name of Gideon Avery was born. In the midst of the 49th Games a storm overtook the town and during the violent downpour a boy took his first gulp of salty air. From that moment on the boy was doomed to the waters, for no child whose first breath is of sea air can resist the call of the briny deep.

***

This begins the tale of Gideon Avery, a man born to live and die by the sea. Even in his earlier years he had the marks of a sailor- an angry sunburn across his cheeks and calloused hands from countless rope burns. Gideon did not mind, nor did he really notice. The only times he realized anything was different with his body is if he could suddenly reach a rope that had always been out of his reach, or if one had fallen out of arms width. Everything is measured by ropes and rudders. Blonde hair is more than likely slicked back with sweat and carelessly tossed aside when it falls into blue eyes. That was another mark of a seaman- eyes the color of the waters that threaten to swallow the District from time to time. Nevertheless, Gideon wouldn't let a little thing like a storm get in his way, and he carries with him proof of some of his great battles. During a particularly nasty storm, Gideon was trying to keep his boat from capsizing when the boom smacked him in the stomach sending him tumbling into his tackle. A larger hook managed to bite into his back. When the boy tried to stand up it dragged itself down leaving a large crooked scar intertwining with his spine. Scars are of no concern to Gideon, as long as he can move he could careless.

With a figure like Gideon's, he does not have much to worry about in the looks department. A tall boy with lean muscle from all his sailing adventures. Tan skin and sun bleached hair. After a long week at sea he comes back with blonde whiskers all over his chin but also some odd tan lines. At sea the sailor often works shirtless, but has a strong attachment to the jewelry his family has passed down to him. From his mom, a piece of netting with beads interwoven with the thin ropes is tied around his upper arm. A bracelet from his father hangs loosely around his wrist and has to be retrieved from the water a lot- good thing it floats. All these accessories leave pale lines and patches across his body, but then again those types of things are common in District Four. The Avery boy also tends to work barefoot. Don't look at his feet. Just don't do it, you'll thank me for it.

***

This child is the type you see all over District Four, bound to a fishing life with a great admiration for the ocean. Not all of the districts have a coastline and Gideon counts himself lucky to be able to head out to sea each day and witness all the wonders it has to offer. While sometimes fish are not abundant, the boy will sometimes catch other things on his hook. Artifacts from the past, before the war and before the fall. Books with smeared ink and hunks of plastic with no apparent use. Despite the oddness and uselessness of these items, Gideon collects them. In secret, of course, the Keepers don't like for citizens to keep unchecked artifacts with them but the boy has a small hatch in the bottom of his boat The Sundancer where he keeps the things he finds. So far not a single soul other than himself knows about the hatch and he would like to keep it that way. Not a lot of people know about the boy himself or his habits. He's a quiet sort of boy, a child of few words and not many actions. He did fine in school, just the middle of the road kind of work. He does his job well but it is nothing to gawk at. Many other citizens get recognized every week for the largest haul and Gideon on his little boat do little to rewrite any records.

He does not care for records or recognition. Not being a people person, Gideon is content to just fly under the radar of both the social scene and the Keepers. The people who have succeeded in befriending the boy have described him as distracted. He can be oblivious to what others are saying and will usually flake out on plans that do not involve a boat and water. The boy does not have many friends beyond his fishing rod and sturdy net. The free time he has after work is usually spent swimming, toying with bait and hooks, or on one of the cliffs that line District Four. There is comfort in the sound of waves crashing against rock, the same kind of soothing feeling he gets when sleeping on at sea being rocked to sleep by the water. Many people in the District have a fascination with the ocean and dedicate their lives to it. In that light Gideon is just a single grain of sand on the beaches of time and he prefers it that way. It's best not to stand out or else you attract the attention of Peacekeepers. He had watched enough of his peers and fellow fishermen get harassed or even sent to the Detention Center for minor offenses. Being away from the ocean that long would be torture, the inland districts must have it incredibly hard. People come back from the detention center, of course, but they are changed. Gideon does not think he could withstand whatever they do to them there. Fear is what keeps him unremarkable and it has worked for seventeen years so far.

Sometimes, while out a sea all by himself, the boy will take out a ratty piece of paper and write poems. Well, he does not call them poems just thoughts. He has many thoughts while working and he figured he could write them all down. One of his found books had washed up on a rock and been drying in the sun for years leaving the words still legible. It was full of thoughts people had written down centuries before him. There were words he had never heard of before and could only guess at their meaning, however he still enjoyed them. Sometimes he would use one of those fancy words in regular conversation to see what people think. Most of the time they just ask him what he means. Gideon has this fantasy that one day he'll use one of the eloquent (look at that one, isn't it nice?) words and the person he is talking to will know it. Maybe they will have a cavern of books from the past as well. Of course that is only a dream, but he's written a few thoughts on the matter.

***

Having only lived seventeen years, Gideon Avery does not have much history to speak of. The third of five children, Gideon's parents were poor fishmongers who were too poor to raise all of them. So, the Avery children were dealt out to relatives who could pay for them. Gideon lived with his uncle, Treaton Wells, since he was very young. The man was significantly older than his sister, the Avery matriarch, and had a graying beard and thin salt and pepper hair that was more salt than anything. He never married or had children of his own so taking Gideon on was easy. His uncle was quiet and reserved, preferring to sit and stare at the sunset than actually talk to anyone. While he lived with his silent uncle most of the year, at holidays he got to visit his mother and father. While Uncle Treaton gave him clothes, food, and advice the boy's parents gave him... nothing. When he'd visit Gideon would receive an awkward hug from each of them and maybe a grubby hand patting him on the back. The sad thing was he always got his hopes for the visits and he was always disappointed. Just because they could not support him financially did not mean they could not nurture him emotionally. Yet, here he is still beating back the tears that threaten to expose his pain every year they do not ask him how he has been.

When he was about eight, Gideon got into a quarrel with his Uncle about something petty (probably to do with staying up late on the boat after curfew) and he ran away. He trekked up hill to his parents' shabby little home expecting them to welcome him with open arms and sympathize with his situation. Instead they sat him in a chair until his Uncle could be reached to retrieve him. No warm supper, no hug, not a single thing that might show that they had made him. Clinging to the wooden chair with tired fingers, the boy had tried so hard not to cry but he could not help himself. They never said a word to him, only the occasional glance to see if he was still there. Crying, hugging the knapsack he had packed with all the valuables an eight year old could have, Gideon never felt more alone. His eldest sister, the one his parents kept for their own, had come close to inspect him. She was eleven at the time and while they shared the same fair hair and light eyes, she hardly knew who he was. A single visit once a year was not enough for her to even know his name.

When Uncle Treaton finally came to bring him home, Gideon rushed into his arms, sobbing into the man's shirt. Gideon cried for most of the way home before his uncle finally picked him up and whispered in his ear. "You're okay Gideon, I've got you." Somehow that was all he needed to hear. He knows now that Uncle Treaton is all he ever really needed as a parent, but that does not stop him from writing down thoughts to give to his parents on holidays only to throw them away at the last second. Besides, Uncle Treaton has been good to him. He taught him everything he knows. Uncle was the one who walked him to the school house the first day of classes, he was the one who showed him how to make a hook. Treaton was the one who taught him how to mend clothes, gut fish, and keep a boat in top condition. He was the one who treated the gash in his back that eventually formed the lumpy scar that runs down his back. Treaton was at the boy's bedside every time he was sick and Gideon has returned the favor.

The boy does not have a whole lot of plans for his future. Having a family would be nice, but living as a permanent bachelor like his uncle does not seem so bad either. However, if he did ever have children he would never give a single one of them away. He would keep every single one of them by him, even if he had ten and lived on pennies a day. Gideon would make sure that every single one of them knew how much they were loved and wanted. He would write thoughts for all of them and show them his books. He would be everything Uncle was and more.