Charmaine Arevalo : D10 : Finished

I have a lot of sisters. I'm one of six, to be exact. By no means am I the youngest. In fact, I happen to be the second oldest. But even at my oh-so-mature age of 12, I look more like a 4 year old. The strong jawline I inherited from my mother is covered by a thick layer of baby fat. My nose bridge lies flat against my face, just barely sticking out at the end. My large brown eyes match the color of my hair. Gosh, I really do love my hair. My family is mostly dirty blonde, but I'm a straight brunette. It comes down in slight waves, and sometimes I pull my fringe back with a braid.

Unfortunately good hair can't detract from my ratty clothes. I get hand-me-downs from my 14 year old sister, Paloma, and she isn't the most careful with her clothes. By the time my old clothes are handed down to my 9 year old sister, they're nothing more than tatters. Another issue with getting clothes from my sister is that we are built very, very differently. She's short and, despite the lack of food, particularly stout. I'm tall. Well, taller than her. Accompanied with spindly arms and legs, I couldn't be more different from her.

I'm only the second oldest, but since my older sister is working most of the day, I spend the most time with my siblings. Being around them has helped me find a nurturing side of myself. I can always seem to tell how they're feeling or what they need. This skill is also useful around the family farm. It's not like a huge farm with every animal available. We specialize in chickens. If the hens get stressed, we have no eggs. No eggs means no money, no money means no food. I'm able to tell when the hens are stressed or sick, so we can take care of it quickly. Honestly, it's not like this chicken farm makes much money anyway. Most of the eggs are taken and shipped somewhere else, causing my mother and older sister to pick up odd jobs in various places.

I feel like I've been forced to grow up too fast. With my mom and older sister always working, I'm the one tasked with taking care of my siblings. I never had the chance to play in the tall grass, or attend school. My little siblings, they can play. They'll be able to go to school later. Maybe I resent them a little for that. I'm bad when it comes to holding grudges. I resent my mother and older sister a bit, too. My little siblings barely know them, so they can't get mad at them for leaving them here with me. I, however, can get as mad as I like. Even when they're home, they barely acknowledge the hard work I do.

I suppose you could say I'm not the biggest optimist in the world. Somebody my age shouldn't be so bitter, but just look at the kind of world I'm living in. I don't, however, want to instill any pessimism or negativity into my siblings. I care about them. If I don't turn out the best, I sure as heck want them to. Loyalty could be considered my fatal flaw. Once I'm attached to someone, I'm attached for life. Which is why the separation from my mother and older sister is so difficult.

See, we used to have a big farm. I remember it. There were chickens, of course, but there were also pigs and cows and sheep. My dad was there, too. I can't remember his face, but I remember how he showed me around the farm. He was the one who taught me to be gentle to everything. When my older sister was 6, I was 4, and my newest sister had just turned 1, there was a fire. A big, big fire.

I remember it. My hands are still covered in matted burn scars.

The cow and pig houses went up in flames. The sheep, they got out, but they ran off and we couldn't find them. Our house, too, collapsed in on itself. My dad wasn't killed by the fire, if that's what you think. He ran off to find the run away animals. He, like the sheep, never returned.

Mom said he and the sheep were probably killed by a wild animal. I don't think she ever really handled her grief. She threw herself into other things- rebuilding the house, finding another man, popping out 3 more children. The chicken coop remained untouched, and she never rebuilt the other pens, so our specialty became chickens. When my sister grew a bit older, she left me and tagged along with my mother. She became like my mother's shadow- everything mom did, she did. I was left at home to care for children not much younger than myself.

It was hard, but I learned to handle it. I'm not the type that throws in the towel right when things get tough. Eventually, the task became easier, and now I can care for them better than anyone else. Regan, who's currently 9, will do anything for sweet foods. Hattie, the 7 year old, responds best when you keep your voice low and calm. The 4 year old twins, Kerry and Rebekah, need time to run around in the tall grass to get their energy out. If you asked my mom about any of my sisters, I bet she wouldn't know anything about them. Not as much as I know.

In all honesty, I don't want to spend the rest of my life on this chicken farm. It's not bad or anything, but farming is not my forte. Considering the entire point of the district, it's just my luck. Lately, however, I've taken up a hobby that will definitely get me nowhere in life, but I still enjoy it. Candle making. I scrape up whatever wax I can find and melt it down into a new creation. Sometimes, I mold them into things like flowers or suns. Yeah, I know children aren't supposed to play with fire or whatever, but who's gonna tell me to stop? Maybe, like my candles, I'll eventually be able to mold myself into something new.

codeword: odair
faceclaim: emma engle