lucy straub / d10 / fin

sixteen
district ten

She was marked by the moon, Mother had said. A kiss, birthmark, a splatter of dark freckles, like a puddle, on only one side of her face. The sun darkens the skin from exposure, but the moon isn't bright enough; it does its magic before the face sees the sky. But, that is Mother's eclecticism. Everything is a high-spun, mystic story when that thing could be as easily explained by a dose of realism or pragmatism. Mother's creativity is inspiring for Lucy, though Mother only tried to explain her own world to herself; Lucy's was all escapist. Perhaps it's silly to daydream beyond these rolling hills of heifers. Thoughts like that have no place in the grind of the District.

Lucy has eaten a lot of porridge. Mashed and stewed rations of wheat, plain. That nonsense is chewy, why? "Why must you always ask why?" Father always says to her. "It is what it is." That's the answer Lucy has been getting for sixteen years. Lucy hates that phrase, "it is what it is." Is it? But what is it? That was the funny thing about Mother and Father, they were totally opposite of each other. Mother spun, and Father stayed put. Somehow they built a little world together, all while looking at it differently. They were madly in love at one time, Lucy figures. Now they were companions, still full of love, but no fire. They take care of each other and their children.

There is three of them, Lucy in the middle. She experiences everything people say of the middle ones; she doesn't get the responsibilities and respect of her older brother, nor does she get the freedom of the younger. She was always a silly girl between two boys. They are hungry, ravenous teens now. Why would her parents have three? They struggled to feed them when their mouths were small, and it's only been worse as they've grown older and bigger. Though, Lucy and the others now work for their keep.

Their farmhouse is in a satellite settlement up the road from the cattle feedlot. Further up the same road is the main town, with the District Square. Like many of the older District children, Lucy and her brothers split much of their time between school and the lot. Lucy is part of a crew that brands the beasts; it's light work for such a thin girl. She is all too used to the smell of burning flesh and hair, paired with cries from the animals actually wearing the hides.

Lucy adores school. Not the bits of Capitol propaganda, though that too is entertaining when one learns to think critically about that state-sponsored rubbish. But the rest; the reading, the writing, the challenge. It means little in this District, not for a sickly girl like Lucy. You'd rather be strong and stocky than intelligent, that's how you get the good jobs. Efficient livestock systems have long been developed. Perhaps she could go into genetics, and try to help maintain herd diversity; perhaps she could help analyze dietetics or Capitol-bound exports. Someday, but not today. Lucy loves to write, but she also refuses to allow herself to entertain much of that thought; this is District Ten.

Mother joked once that they should change their family name from Straub to 'Coffee'. That is their family colour; all their short, thick hair, their eyes, are a dark brown. All five of them; they certainly look like a family. This seems awfully silly, but such a typical Mother thing to say; many common things are brown, plus Lucy has only seen coffee about three times in her life, but has never tasted it. Plus, many other families look like the Straubs. They should change their family name from Straub to 'Mud' or 'Cow Pie', for what it's worth. Lucy certainly loves them though, her parents and brothers; how could one not?

A people-person can be shy. Familiar social energy is renewing, strangers and small talk are draining. As long as Lucy is at ease with those people, she is herself. Lucy has a few friends around; from the lot, from the school. She loved to chat; they don't need much to do, visiting is stimulating enough. She bonds with few, but those she does are tight.

How many people have had their first kiss? Lucy has; several kisses in fact. Boys and girls, though she most certainly has a preference. Girls are softer, in every sense. They tend to smell better too. Lucy longs to be in love; to be held and happy. Many of the girls around did too; it is a topic of gossip she enthusiastically engages in. Someday, Lucy may want kids; it would depend on how much there is to eat; she is determined not to make her parents' mistake. She could barely stand the sound of hungry stomachs at night back then and now. How could she in the future, especially when it's her job to feed them?

Lucy is often filled with these kinds of fears. Of inadequacy, of hunger. Of fear itself; Lucy is not exactly fond of heart-pumping moments. If one was to ask a friend or brother of Lucy's to describe her, they would not ever say she is daring or brave or some other synonym of that kind. She thinks boldly but does not act on it. Opinions are kept between her ears, as are impulses.