Lettie Lenahan -- District 04

The puddle. The puddle's reflection. When I sit out on the dirt roads sometimes after it rains, I watch myself in the reflection. I see myself as an average human being on the outside, but I can't help but be self conscious sometimes about the way I look.

Being from District 04, I'm expected to look semi-nice. I live in one of the upper-middle districts, though I appear from the lower districts. I'm not the type of girl who wants to dress up with makeup, and curl my hair up with pins. Rather, I love to let my hair flow in the wind, with the feeling of clear skin. I can't stand the feeling of the powder coating my face, as my mother tried to do to me as a younger girl.

My hair is auburn -- just a plain auburn. It's closer to orange than brown, but not orange enough. It flows down in loose, wavy strands to my lower back, where the waves turn to loose spiral curls. I often tie it into a ponytail, with a simple headband or hat to keep the loose strands from getting into my face. My skin is light, with light auburn freckles dancing across my cheeks and nose. My mother used to comment that they clashed perfectly with my skin -- that was, before my little sister was born.

My eyes are a different story. They're a chocolate brown color, that fades into a honey amber shade the closer it gets to the pupil. They have a cat-eye shape, with natural long lashes with a black color to them. My eyebrows are almost nonexistent. They're very light and thin, that all it looks like is a slightly darker pigment color.

When I look into the puddle, I don't only see a girl. I see me.

I'm not the best at socializing. Ever since I was younger, I always avoided situations where I worked in groups, or that involved talking to other kids. At school, I sat in the back of the room ad quietly did my work myself. Unlike a few of the girls at school, I wasn't popular, and I didn't try to look all nice and pretty -- I just wanted an education. My mother would tell me that I was the smartest little girl she'd ever met -- once again, until my sister was born.

When little Rosie came into our family, I was fighting for attention. My mother wouldn't sign any papers for me, rather looking to care and coo at her newest little girl. Soon enough, I isolated myself from my mother and father, just sticking around when my sister was there. I never blamed her for my problems -- she was only a toddler. She always seemed to look up at me, though I don't know why. I've always been sensitive and shy, and so awkward.

In fact, I'm rather a tomboy. I'm into all the stuff the guys are at school -- playing outdoor games, chasing the small squirrels that play around the neighborhood and playing in the dirt. Though, I do none of that stuff now. I prefer to stay in my room and chill most of the time. I sew, fish in the lake, and decorate my house with small items whenever I have free time. I'm very organized, and I love to rearrange things.

When I was born, I was my mother's little dream. She loved me, took care of me, and treated me like a princess. I had all of these toys she'd bought from the markets nearby, and I never went without something to entertain me with. That all was -- until my sister was born.

Rosie was a sweetie -- supposedly, even better than I was. My mother began to shift all her attention to her, ignoring my basic needs such as meals, education and clothing. I often went to school with dirt-covered clothing, or with messy hair until I was about nine, when I could do it myself. I became very independent, often making my own meals and caring for my little sister when my mother went out. I never blamed my sister for any of my social issues -- she was too little to understand anything.

By the time I was entered in the reaping, I didn't really care whether I was entered or not -- I would die either way. I would either grow old and die, or die young in the reaping -- dead was dead. When I wasn't entered in the reaping, I shrugged and continued on with my daily routine. I never watched the Hunger Games, due to the graphic scenes of violence. These times were the only times my mother payed attention to me.

As I grew older, I became even more socially awkward, trembling or stuttering when talking to others. By the time I was fifteen, my sister began to be in the reaping also. I was always worried she would be forced into the games, but she never was. Now, I'm just trying to get through and help her also.