agatha bone {four} done

AGATHA BONE

Basics:
My name is Agatha. Agatha Bone. Kinda boring, but I like it. I turned 17 last spring, so I'm almost 18. I've lived in District Four my whole life, with my mom and dog. Yeah, it's just the three of us. It's nice though, to not be in a house crowded with brothers and sisters. Not to mention I'm a full plate for my mom.

Appearance:
I've always been small. Not short, just small. Tiny hands, miniature feet, petite facial features. All delicate and pretty. I don't weigh very much, and when I have a low, I weigh even less. I could never win a hand-to-hand fight, if I were to get into one. I'd say I'm about 5' 4". I've never actually measured myself, so I can't be sure. I have, however, stood on one of the scales they use to weigh their fish down at the harbor, and usually I come up to about 100 pounds, sometimes a little bit more.

My skin is a creamy peach color, not pasty, but not dark either. If we had a little more sunlight here, I'd probably get a nice tan. I don't mind my skin the way it is though. It's fairly healthy and clear, which is nice. I have an oddly long neck, and an extremely round face. My chin is flat and undefined, I get apple cheeks when I smile, and my forehead is too wide. I've got a cute nose though. Small and a little pointy, which I guess could look snobbish, but I like it.

My eyes are almond shaped and tiny, like the rest of me, placed close together on my face. I have thin eyelashes and eyebrows that are several shades darker than my hair. Weird, but I don't mind. Mom always said my eyes were blue, but I'd say they're more green than anything else.

My hair is thick and kind of bushy, pale blond in color. It'll probably turn white a lot faster than most people's hair. I like to keep it long, down to just below my shoulder blades. Mom cuts it for me, so it's kinda messy, and my bangs get in the way sometimes. I've always liked wearing feathers in my hair. I find plenty of simple brown and black striped ones, but sometimes I'm lucky enough to find one from a blue jay or a cardinal. Mom recently started buying me nice big ones for my birthday every year.

My clothing style is simple, otherwise it tends to contrast with my hair. Not to mention sometimes I'm too lazy to put on something nice. I like jeans and big sweaters, and hats with pom poms in the winter. I've got a nice old pair of black runners I wear whenever it's warm enough. I always carry my bag around, a big, brown leather one with plenty of space in it. It hangs over my shoulder and reaches down to right below my waist. It's nice to put things in, although that can sometimes be a problem. I'll get to that in a minute.

I carry myself casually, and my pace is a little slow. People either have to walk in time with me, or I have to speed up and sometimes get out of breath. I'm very observant of things around me, although not so good at making eye contact with whoever I'm talking to. I tend to fiddle with something in my hands, or look a over their shoulder while I'm speaking. I've tried working on it before, but it hasn't really improved.

Personality:
Ah, yes. I'm a complicated case, to put it one way. From a newcomer's point of view, I probably seem pretty normal. I can be friendly, I'm good at talking to new people, and for some reason others feel comfortable around me pretty quick. I know this because they open up easily. I'm not sure if it's the way I act or what I say or the tone of my voice, but it can be quite helpful at times. I make friends with the guys at the market, and I can usually barter a decent price for the food we need. Mom used to get worried that they'd take advantage of me, but so far that hasn't happened.

Unfortunately, I'm not quite that simple. I diagnosed myself with bipolar disorder when I was, oh, maybe thirteen or fourteen. It started a lot earlier than it does in most people, according to the class we had on it one day for school. We talked about a few different mental diseases, and bipolar disorder was one of them. I always knew their was something different about me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it until it was literally staring me in the face. I don't have a very severe case, but it's not fun either. I cycle through two to four weeks of depression, and then another two or four weeks of some kind of euphoria. When I was younger, my parents started buying medication for me, but then my dad left and we couldn't afford it any more. I kept saying I didn't mind. It wasn't too bad.

The depression could be worse. I get sad, I stay in my room, I don't go to the market, I don't eat as much. Thankfully I've never been suicidal. I just feel exhausted and miserable and I don't have the energy to do anything.

When it's over, sometimes I get a week or two of plain, simple me, but then usually an episode of euphoria hits. I get excited, my thoughts speed by a mile a minute, I won't shut up, and I can get pretty bouncy and childish. The guys at the market think it's funny sometimes, and sure, that can get annoying, but more often than not it means better bargaining for me. Sometimes I even talk them in to giving me some treats for the dog.

The bad thing about the euphoria is what it comes with. I guess you could call me a part-time-kleptomaniac. Big word, right? I say part-time because I only get like that when I'm not depressed.

One of my friends explained it to me when I was younger, and I'm not sure where she got it from. She chattered away about it after I snatched some toothbrushes out of one of the stores in the market. I took four, and I'm pretty sure she was completely confused for the first bit. But then a week later I took two more, and suddenly she clued in and explained it all to me. She didn't bother to try helping, I think because we both knew it wouldn't do much good. I never told my mom about it, or my dad when he was around. Why make them worry? I'm a good thief, and I don't let anyone see, and I stuff whatever I take in my closet or under my bed where no one will look. I never take anything expensive, because then I would get caught. Just simple, useless things, stuff I can't keep my hands off of.

Aside from all the messed up things about me, I'm a pretty normal person. I like animals, I've got a bit of a sweet tooth, I hate reading, and I'm fairly social. Actually, I never really found out if the social part is just from the euphoria or from me being me. Either way, I don't think it really matters. Knowing the answer wouldn't change how I act. I don't open up quickly to people, not because I don't trust them, but mostly because I'm just careful. I haven't been hurt much in my life. Yeah, my dad left, but I was never super close to him in the first place.

I've never been an A+ student, if that interests you at all. I'm not the best learner, and I'm really bad at anything theoretical. I have to see physical things in front of me in order to figure out a problem. Numbers or information on a page usually doesn't mean a lot to me. Mom says I "make up for it with a big heart". I usually roll my eyes and laugh at her, or tell her to go away, depending on my mood.

History:
Alright, let's see. Obviously I was born in District Four. I've never been an overly curious person, so I've never had much of a desire to visit any other Districts. I like where I live. I like the smell of saltwater and fish, the cool, gray fog that rolls in every morning, the sound of bells ringing as the boats pull into the harbor. I even like the storms that come. Every now and then the wind picks up, the market shuts down, and we get a torrential downpour for at least a day. I always love it. I used to go outside and spin around in circles under the rain, but when I was seven I got a nasty case of pneumonia, and mom never let me go out in a storm again.

My parents are decent people. My mom works at a jam store, and my dad used work down at the harbor, fixing the boats and supplying them with fresh nets and bait and whatever else they needed. They were never happy together. They didn't fight, but it wasn't much of a surprise that my dad left a few years ago. He came home with a puppy, a little German Shepherd he called Rupert. I loved him to bits. Dad said it was his going-away present, and then he left us. My mom had a hard time coping for the first couple weeks, but she got over it quickly after that. She had me to take care of, and now a dog to feed.

The thing is, boat repairs can be pretty expensive, so my dad brought in about 75% of the money. Jam is a different story. Mom explained to me once how the berries and sugars were usually imported from District Nine and Eleven, which meant it cost a lot, which meant less money for the people working there. The point is, we didn't have as much money. I couldn't handle the stress of a job, so we downgraded to a smaller house, one with a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom and a living room. It was very different from the two-story red-brick house we used to own by the shore, but I've grown to like it.

Things got easier after that. I tried working at the jam store every now and then to put in some extra hours for my mom, but after a while I realized that the jam lids were irresistible, and after I'd stolen seven of them, I had to stop working. Mom said it was okay, we hadn't gotten a whole lot of extra money anyway.

I've never gotten into a relationship. I don't think I could handle it, and I don't think my partner could handle it. Plus I'm not even that interested in starting one. I just don't really understand the point. When I turned sixteen, mom started bugging me about getting a boyfriend, but she stopped a few months ago.

Over the past few years, things have settled into normalcy for us. My days are filled with trips to the market, school, taking Rupert out for walks, and sometimes heading down to the shore to collect shells. Mom is at her jam store from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon, and I'm at school for most of that time. We keep the house in shape and cook our meals together and make sure Peter stays healthy. So despite the depression and the stealing and the single parent, I'd say it's a pretty great life.