.Calla Whitmore. - District 8 {FINISHED}

Name: Calla Elise Whitmore
Age: 15
Gender: Female
District: District 8



APPEARANCE


Lucy has blue eyes. My eyes are a dull grey color, the shade of a winter’s sky. A dark ring wraps itself protectively around the iris, as though to prove an oncoming storm.Lucy has calm eyes, she is never angry. Mama says that I should try to be a bit more like her, I do.

I try to mimic her hair, keeping mine shoulder length and brushed out as best as possible. When I come home from school, it is a knotted mess that hardly falls to my neck. Only for my goal of being perfect,being Lucy,do I take the time to unknot it, the process can be painful. One day though, Lucy will tell me the secret for her hair, how she keeps it so golden, how it shines so. I wish I could know.

The rest of me is pretty normal, the way that my eyes are always narrowed, my thick eyebrows, my medium sized nose, and my slightly narrow face. Mama says that I can look angry sometimes, she encourages me to keep a straight face; or to smile a little more often. It makes me nervous to smile though, only if I am truly happy will you see how I look with my lips turned up.



PERSONALITY

“Be kind to others,” that’s what Mama told me, I remember it clearly. She would always explain why I should be a good person, why I should help others in their times of need.Lucy would tell me too.Whenever I asked them, they would just say that it was a good way to be admired by others. It was her way of saying that I love attention; I always wanted all the toys to myself as a small child. I wasn’t the type to share and when I did it was a dramatic scene to direct the eyes to me. I always loved the feeling of being in the center of the stage; it meant that I was cared about. It was my way of thinking about reality.

I also like dolls, mom says that’s it’s weird but I could care to listen. I’m not exactly the type for playing with them, I like to build them, to use rope and beads to create a child’s play toy that could last almost forever. Lucy’s lasted a long time, I got her when I was three. Maybe her hair has been knotted a bit and her clothes slightly ruffled, other than that though, she looks the same. I have always been careful with her.

Mama says that I’m careful with everything,the way that my fingers weave in and out of rope, to organization. I suppose that I keep the little resources I have, in easy spots to find. If I had to use a button one day and couldn’t find it, what use would that be to anyone? I suppose that I think about it rationally like that, I’m not sure how mom thinks.



HISTORY

I remember when mama got me Lucy, the beautiful doll that has come to be my best friend.

Her pressed grey uniform clung tightly to her body as she handed to parcel to me. Her hands were warm and a smile replaced the empty expression that usually clouded up her face. She looked happy for one,

I liked it when she was happy, it made me feel happy too.

Rapidly pulling off the paper in feverish strokes the gift underneath shone itself.

“Why is there a box, mom.” I asked.

“Open the box, dear,” she would say. I did just that, when I did, there was Lucy.

Her eyes shone like the sky, the bright blue hue overpowering everything else. She had a smile embroidered into her porcelain face. Her hair fell to her skinny shoulders in light waves, you could see the sun in it. I loved her at once, she was everything.

“Thank you so much,” I looked up at mama, she smiled back at me warmly. I was so thankful, to her, for Lucy.

That’s how it happened; how I got my doll that I have come to love today. Mama loves Lucy; she just has trouble accepting my interests. To her the fact that