District 9: Gwen Hanen

I'm about 5'5", which isn't too bad for my age. I weigh 114 pounds, and look a bit scrawny if you ask me. It's a bit weird how my body is shaped, because I'm so boney and you can see most of the points in my body. My thin shoulders look smaller than they should be, and my skinny legs look longer than they actually are. I don't have long elgs, even though I wish I did. My arms are a bit long though, and skinny too. I have more muscle than my sibligns, but that doesn't mean I'm strong. My hands aren't too big or small, and my feet are just like my hands.

I'm a good runner, and I can also climb trees with ease. I have good speed and stamina at the same time, which can be rather lucky if you ask me. I'm not too good a swimmer though, a matter of fact, I can't swim at all.

I can usually be found wearing a dark brown shirt that is just a tad bit too big. It's only a little scratchy. I wear loose black pants that are dirty and worn with age. Luckily, they don't have too many holes. My shoes are old and torn as well, and I don't own a pair of socks.

For the Reaping I wear a blue dress - just like my sisters - that my mom made us when we were 16. It still fits, because she made it a bit too big. Plus, we didn't have a really big growthspurt. It's still a little bit loose. I don't have any shoes to wear to the Reaping, so I wear the exact same shoes I always wear.

I usually look pretty sad. I mean, think about the world we live in! Is it really that much worth a smile? No. It isn't in my opnion. I don't speak very much, but when I do it's loud and ramble-like. I usually either frown or scowl, depending on the situation. Only my sisters ever really get a good smile out of me.

I'm a tad bit hot-headed, and I can be very stubborn. I'm a very, extremely serious person, and don't quite grasp a joke. I'm conserdate though, and try to keep people's best interest in mind, especially Evangeline's. I like getting her things. I'm very honest and reliable, and can be trusted with many secrets. Although, I must admit, I can get very defensive. Some people have described me as formal in the past, and yes, my attitude and way of speaking can be pretty stright and proper-sounding when I want it to. I don't ever want to seem capitol-like though. That would be absolutely terrible. Ter-ri-ble.

I love answering riddles and testing myself. Playing card games as well. My dad has a set of cards, and we play together all the time. It's one of the few things I really truly enjoy doing, even if it is a bit taunting to my sister they don't get to play it with him. I've tried to teach them but it's no use. I'm the card champion in the family. Another thing I love doing is talking to Evangeline. She's like a little 6-year-old, even though she's my age and whatnot. She comes up with the silliest little ideas, and she is my comfort. She's still got that child-like innocence in her. I will never let that go away unless she does it of her own free will. The Hunger Games will not take her. I love climbing trees when I have enough energy, but you need food for energy.

As you can probably guess, I hate The Hunger Games. Hate it. I'm not such a big fan of asking for much either. I don't like toys much, no literally, I find them useles and annoying. Kids playing with all their old toys, when they should just sell them and buy some food and be done with it. That'd be so much easier, don't you think? Anyways, I don't like fire too much either. Always scared of being burnt.

My family means more than anything to me. Sometimes more than my own life. I give my food up some days for my sisters, and take extra jobs so my mom doesn't have to work nights. I am close to my family, and that is that. If one of my sisters were to be Reaped.... I'd volunteer. I would. I wouldn't let them die. Especially Evangeline, she wouldn't know what to do. Die at the bong, indeed. I always feel like I'm the one supporting the family alongside my dad, and in some cases, it is that way.

I fear death. I fear gore. I fear everything that is the Games.

I find the human race absolutely dispicable. What have we done with ourselves? Thrown away a beautiful life, and turned them into starving slaves of an over-puffy capitol. They've ruined us! Of course, there are a few people worth living for these days. A few nice kids at school, my family, and whatnot. I can't say much about myself though, because I'm a pickpocket. It just isn't worth it without those few people. I'm sure their are others, in other Districts, I mean, but I don't know them. I probably never will. A matter of fact, I know I never will.

When I was 5 I started kindergarten, just like everyone else did. I walked to school with my sisters and while they quietly spoke in the dim morning I stared at my feet. It was definenetly scary to start school, so how would things go for me? When I first got there I met my teacher - Mrs. Aibered. We got along fine, I guess. At first she tried to talk to me a lot, and attempted to make me laugh at her strange jokes. I just didn't understand them much. After that she just talked mostly to Aileen, and I sat next to Evangeline with my nose in a book. Unless, of course, there really was something interesting to do. My year in kindergarten was pretty boring, because I didn't find playing very interesting.

I had a big surprise on my 7th birthday. Aileen, Evangline and I were going home from school. It was the end of the week, you know. Well, anyways, they opened the door to their house to find no one. They looked around outside for a bit for their parents, being unsuccessful. We were scared stiff, and sat against the wall of the house huddled together, nearly in tears. It was a mean joke, but later that night my parents came home with cookies. Cookies! They'd stayed out all day and worried us, then darted quickly to the bakery and managed to scrimp up enouhg money for cookies. Definently mean, but in the end it was the best thing they could've ever done for us.

During the year I was nine, I came to cross with a girl named Thorn. An odd name for a girl but nonetheless, she was mean. Terrible as a thorn, I must say. She would shove and kick Evangeline what seemed like daily, and she was much bigger than both of us. A few years older, about fourteen. My mom said she had problems at home, but I didn't like her picking on my younger-by-thirty-minutes sister. Evangeline never complained about, she seemed scared to even talk about it. That was when I learned she was mixed up with a whole bunch of meanies, which made me very angry. I was too small to stop it, but the principle wasn't. I thought it ended pretty quick, but ever since then she's been very quiet when I ask her how her day went. We aren't in the same class anymore, so it can be dificult to see what goes on in her day.

Then the year I was twelve. The year I would go through my first Reaping. Scared stiff, I must say. So were Aileen and Evangeline. Well we survived and that's all I can say. My parents hardly did though, they seemed so frightened. To tell you the truth, after it passed I prett ymuch forgot it. My mind was focused on wishing the tributes luck. Every. Single. One. Even the careers. No one should die in my opinion. </div>

When I was fifteen my mom made my sisters and I good Reaping clothes. I was unhappy about it, but she insisted we should look good if Reaped. She had it stuck in her mind we were going to get Reaped! I felt like a ton of bricks had come tumbling down on me. My own mother. Of course, it was a few days before Reaping, and everyone got frightened right before then. Making promises they wouldn't need, taking luck. It was odds, not luck. No bracelet is gonna keep you from getting Reaped.

Last year, when I was 17, we found Aileen passed out on a bench. At first sight you'd think she was dead, and afew peacekeeeprs were hanging around, staring at her. It scared me, and Evangline - in her heart - thought the same thing I did. Was Aileen dead? No, but darn ear it that is. Her heart was beating, very slowly, but beating. The old-woman-with-food act actually happened, just like in one of Evangeline's fairy books. It wasn't like miracle work though. After a lot of shoving and working it down her throat without choking her she was fed, but it took her quite a while to wake up. She'd been knocked out cold, and she was too weak to walk, so we had to carry her. It was very depressing to have had to do such things for her. I really hope it doesn't get repeated. Ever.