Ivy Cheyne [D4] ~ FIN

I V Y

Sometimes I'm afraid to look in a mirror, in case it breaks.

Time and time again the words gross, ugly, disgusting are thrown in my general direction. Sometimes people are saying it because they think I don't hear them but I hear everything when I'm walking down that hallway lined with people that would rather carve their lungs out than look at me. I never really noticed how disgusting people thought I was until I turned fifteen. I first noticed the judgemental glares and gazes burning into my back when I turned that age and I became aware. I wish I stayed unaware, ignorance kept me happy, when I was surrounded by ignorance I could look into a mirror without wanting to sob.

I think it's more than my ginger hair that turns people away. When people feel it they say it's like straw and and when people smell it they say it smells like pissy seawater. It's long, falling down to my shoulders but I don't want it being shown off so I keep it hid under a hat or tied in a bun or pony tail. I can't hide it, it's there and proudly sitting on the top of my head like a ragged bird's nest. When I see the strands I wish I could be bald, perhaps that would make me look noticeable for once. I think I'd look worse, if that's even possible.

Plain blue eyes are coupled with my stupid red hair and apparently I always look tired. Heavy bangs hang under them and freckles are splashed around that area. I think that's another factor that docks points from my appearance (at least that's what I hear people say, look at those freckles) and now I hate them; I want them to go away. I can try and fail to hide my hair under some sort of hat but I can't go anything about freckles, once they're there they won't just fade away. I'm stuck.

I follow the trend of being a short Cheyne, standing at only 5'6 and I'm quite slim. I'm definitely quick to make up for it, years of career training taught me to be light on my feet and flexible, being able to smoothly transition from one movement to another. I'm not like one of tall, lanky boys who act like an awkward praying mantis. Some people say I have the body of a boy, just because I'm not curvy and have small breasts (another factor that puts me lower on the prettiness scale) it's been said to my face a lot of times but I just laugh it off.

Of course, on the inside, I'm crying imaginary tears.

I don't understand, really I don't. Maybe it's the hair, all different kinds of red you can get and me and my sister got the unlucky kind. Hettie had red hair but it was almost crimson and fiery - nothing like me. Maybe that's what people like because every time I saw her around she always had a boy by her side, even in the fucking arena. Bitch.

I try not to think about that kind of stuff and put my mind to other things; like my career training. Winnie doesn't do it, it's not for her, so I'm the only one who actually takes part in our bit of the family and I'm really good. Being in that gym is the one time people actually notice me because it's one of the few things I'm good at and I work hard. Too many times an over confident mean boy or mean girl spar with me and I put them on their asses every time. They go back to their friends who laugh at them and I'm beaming with pride every time because people notice.

All I want to do it be noticed, is that too much to ask for?

I'm quiet so it's not like my shining personality catches the eye of the masses. I'm ugly so it's not like I have a beautiful body to catch the eye of the people who judge. I'm just a there-but-not-quite-there entity who everyone overlooks. I think that's why I don't have many friends, just one or two. Newt Krearns in particular is one of the few non-family members that talk to me; I think he's one of my only friends.

I think my desire to be noticed is the reason I'm weighed down my an endless amount of lies that I've spun like a spider web. I just do it, it's like an instinct. I lie to my family, to Newt, to my teachers about so many things when it's just not necessary. The weight of lies is almost unbearable but I pile it on. Sometimes when I get found out I have the attention I crave, or maybe when I tell a lie it makes something seem better. I don't know - I just do it without really thinking. Long ago I broke the bonds of trust and replaced them with the threads of my network of lies and I haven't looked back.

Maybe I don't deserve to have many friends.

You would think that everything would be easy. I have a younger sister, my parents are ex-careers, who get a decent amount of money, and I'm young. It was easy when it all started off, everything was easy because I was ignorant. I started career training when I was very young, about six years old (same age I started school) and everything took off from there. I wasn't all that good in school, book work just wasn't for me but I loved career training, I liked beating people up with blunt swords and spears to prove I was the best and I swear I was one of the best. Life was good, I wanted to be the best and I wanted people to know.

Fast forward about nine years and things started to go down hill. Everyone said so many nice things to me: 'you're pretty Ivy', 'you're such a good career Ivy', 'if you volunteer for The Games you would totally win', 'you have a nice smile.' On my fifteenth birthday I lifted the veil of ignorance from my head and my eyes became open. My 'friends' weren't real friends and laughed about my ginger hair behind my back. All those boys who talked to me and seemed to be interested in me were actually pricks who were being dared by their friends. Everyone who asked for my help on stations they struggled with in the gym would talk about me the moment we stepped outside of it. I was a bit of a laughing stock outside the training gym.

When I was fifteen, I cried for the first time in nine years because I saw my reflection. People grew up and saw me in a different way and that new way wasn't what I wanted. I wasn't a good career with nice hair, blue eyes and a nice smile who would help them out with everything - I was a joke.

When I was sixteen I became friends with Newt and he seemed to make everything better for me. When I ran into him I thought he was being another mean boy and talking to me for a dare and that's the worst assumption I've made. He was nice, he talked to me, he laughed at my jokes. He was much better off than me but he didn't act like it. That bit of attention made me hungry again, I wanted to be noticed, I didn't want to disappear and his kindness drove me to be something more; I would be noticed in whatever way possible.

So I began spinning my web of lies.

Being seventeen now, I don't know if it was worth it but it felt so natural to be deceptive and it made people begin to notice me. I wanted to stop, I swear I did, but it became a chain reaction; one lie led to another so naturally and before I knew it half of what I said had some semblance of dishonesty in it.

All of it's undone now anyway, ever since Hettie went in and died she's been the centre of attention. Personally, I think I was better than her - just because she was 'hot' and could fight everyone thinks of her now. She didn't look so nice when she was a corpse riddled in gashes! I'm living, I'm breathing and I will get noticed. I swear, I will become worth it one way or another. One chance, I'm begging for it.