Leticia Wheeler, D7, Fin:)
Jul 6, 2016 14:17:24 GMT -5
Post by Sleepy Fluttershy on Jul 6, 2016 14:17:24 GMT -5
Name: Leticia Wheeler
Dad was a tough person. At least, I am tough for sure. And definitely not like the other people. The gloomy loser. The weirdo. Because I only say what I think. And the things I think are not always pleasant. Mom thinks I'm too harsh towards everybody. But I'm just being normal. If I feel horrible, I'll never wear a fake smile and I feel like that almost every day. I am never unfair, but if you're acting wrong, I'll tell you what I think about it. And I'm never gonna try to speak to someone if there's nothing to talk about.
You may think I am a nerd, but the answer is also "NO".Not a hard learner. I know a lot, but I found this knowledge in books, not in a place they call "school". I lost my taste for it long ago. Mom always keeps nagging me about my grade, which is always too low in her opinion. She tells me I shouldn't skip my lessons. Naturally, I almost do it every day. I don't even know if I will be reaped or not. If I am, I will most certainly not be alive. And If I live, I'll be chopping trees in the woods or working in a paper factory all day long. What do I need the grades for? Nevertheless, I spend huge amounts of my free time in the school library, hiding behind the shelves and reading, reading, reading... I'm fond of astrophysics, but I'm not a District 6 citizen, so I can say goodbye to science, anyway. No one will ever make me go to school if I don't want to. It is a time waste. I'm pretty stubborn, so you'll never convince me it's wrong. Nobody can make me think otherwise.
I'm angry, because it was always like that. My mother. My tiny room in a small house. My disabled fourteen year old brother and my thirteen year old sister. I don't remember the happy time, if it ever existed. There were days when we were smaller. But it doesn't really matter. We have always been starving, we have always been struggling and it never stops.
Age: 15
Gender: female
District/Area: District 7
Faceclaim: Chelsea Hobbs
Appearance:
I'm waking up. One more effort and I'm jumping out of my narrow bed, taking a deep breath and an impact into this cold and uncomfortable world starts. Mum's voice from the kitchen: "Hurry up, or you'll be late again!". School... Damn that school, damn this district and this dirty grey house! Dammit! I'm walking slowly to a three-legged table in the middle of the room and start putting my books into a school bag. Suddenly I see a small piece of glass in the corner... Almost forgot about it. It's a small part of a broken mirror, which I found in a garbage bin while searching for food the other day. I wipe the dust off it and try to see my face.
Appearance:
I'm waking up. One more effort and I'm jumping out of my narrow bed, taking a deep breath and an impact into this cold and uncomfortable world starts. Mum's voice from the kitchen: "Hurry up, or you'll be late again!". School... Damn that school, damn this district and this dirty grey house! Dammit! I'm walking slowly to a three-legged table in the middle of the room and start putting my books into a school bag. Suddenly I see a small piece of glass in the corner... Almost forgot about it. It's a small part of a broken mirror, which I found in a garbage bin while searching for food the other day. I wipe the dust off it and try to see my face.
I wish I could say I'm pretty... No. Charming? No. I'm right the opposite of everything you connect to the definition "girl". I look rather like a homeless guy, who never brushed his hair and forgot, what the word "haircut" means. If it wasn't for the long hair, you wouldn't think I'm a girl. After grooming my hair and putting it into a ponytail I look in the mirror again. At least, I don't look homeless now. But I am not beautiful, either.
Brown hair. Dark brown, like almost anyone else's. Brown eyebrows. A mouth. A nose. The nose is too big for a girl. Mum says I inherited this treasure from my father. She thinks I'm absolutely like him. The same stubborn face, the same "don't touch me, unless you have a problem" expression, the same way of moving, talking, eating. Well, the only good thing about my appearance is that at least now I know what my dad looked like and what kind of person he was.
Dad was a tough person. At least, I am tough for sure. And definitely not like the other people. The gloomy loser. The weirdo. Because I only say what I think. And the things I think are not always pleasant. Mom thinks I'm too harsh towards everybody. But I'm just being normal. If I feel horrible, I'll never wear a fake smile and I feel like that almost every day. I am never unfair, but if you're acting wrong, I'll tell you what I think about it. And I'm never gonna try to speak to someone if there's nothing to talk about.
You may think I am a nerd, but the answer is also "NO".Not a hard learner. I know a lot, but I found this knowledge in books, not in a place they call "school". I lost my taste for it long ago. Mom always keeps nagging me about my grade, which is always too low in her opinion. She tells me I shouldn't skip my lessons. Naturally, I almost do it every day. I don't even know if I will be reaped or not. If I am, I will most certainly not be alive. And If I live, I'll be chopping trees in the woods or working in a paper factory all day long. What do I need the grades for? Nevertheless, I spend huge amounts of my free time in the school library, hiding behind the shelves and reading, reading, reading... I'm fond of astrophysics, but I'm not a District 6 citizen, so I can say goodbye to science, anyway. No one will ever make me go to school if I don't want to. It is a time waste. I'm pretty stubborn, so you'll never convince me it's wrong. Nobody can make me think otherwise.
I'm also angry. Angry all the time. Angry with my mum having to work all the time, instead of telling us bedtime stories. Angry with the teacher, who keeps informing my mother about me missing school. Angry with the weather, when it rains. Angry with myself and my hungry stomach. Angry with the Capitol. Angry with the Hunger Games. It's not the hysterical kind of anger. No. It's "one more day like this and I'll break down" anger. It's not permanent, but... There are times when, I never stop being angry.
I'm angry, because it was always like that. My mother. My tiny room in a small house. My disabled fourteen year old brother and my thirteen year old sister. I don't remember the happy time, if it ever existed. There were days when we were smaller. But it doesn't really matter. We have always been starving, we have always been struggling and it never stops.
My dad died, when I was two. I can only recall his face, when I'm looking in the mirror. When he died, we learned what real hunger was. The food was never enough. But now we got used to it. Though I still think my stomach is gonna explode sometimes. And I still search the junk for some edible things. Like rotten fruit or fish remains. It stinks, but helps me survive.
My brother was not born disabled, but three years after father's death he fell from the roof while mum was at work. His legs have been paralyzed since then. I wonder what happens if they choose him at the Reaping one day. Actually, I hope they won't. He's quite a normal human, if you don't mind the legs, though. And an excellent cook. My sister is also nice. But we don't talk much. She's more like mum, than dad. Shy, smart and obedient.
The only thing I really enjoy is gymnastics. I have seen two Capitol gymnasts in some television show and have been trying to repeat their moves since then. I know it's like astrophysics. I know it's just a stupid hobby, a dream... but it makes me stronger, makes me do things again and again until I succeed, believe in myself. So I always practice in my room at night, or in the schoolyard, when nobody is around.
The only thing I really enjoy is gymnastics. I have seen two Capitol gymnasts in some television show and have been trying to repeat their moves since then. I know it's like astrophysics. I know it's just a stupid hobby, a dream... but it makes me stronger, makes me do things again and again until I succeed, believe in myself. So I always practice in my room at night, or in the schoolyard, when nobody is around.
Other: Mum comes in. "You are late already! The lessons start in fifteen minutes!" Yes, I know that. But who cares? I don't want to be a disappointment for anyone, so I high five my brother and go out in the street. I'm not having breakfast today, because there's no food left. I think I'll try to sneak into the woods behind the fence one day. Raw turkey has always been my childhood dream. Ok, now it's time to turn left and head to the school building. But I'm not gonna turn left. I'm turning around and going back home. School can wait. Besides, mum is at work already. I'll spend half the day with my brother, helping him with the housework and chattering. And I'll go to the library, when the lessons are over. I'm angry. And hungry. But I'm still going to enjoy what's left for me in this life.
