Maija - 12

I am not a beautiful doll sitting on a shelf. I have beauty of another kind, beauty that isn’t necessarily skin deep. I look in the mirror and don’t see beautiful, even when everyone else might. I hate mirrors, because they show me what they’re turning me into.

By comparison to the plain, homely girls in the Seam, she’s one of the lovelier ones. Auburn hair that falls in gentle waves well past her shoulders, nearly to her elbows. In straight sunlight it seems to glow shades of gold and red and burgundy, but she rarely ever wears it down. Every day she ties it in a knot to keep it from getting in her way, though loose strands will often fall around her face, giving her the look of a disheveled forest sprite. Perhaps the reason she hides it, is because it reminds her of her father. She’s a skinny girl from the Seam, half-starved her whole life, craving more and tasting only the bitterness of hunger. She’s tall for her age, roughly five feet and nine inches tall, with long muscular legs, wide curving hips, a tiny waist, a blossoming chest, and thin but muscular arms that end in slender, nimble fingers capable of performing delicate and demanding tasks. Though she’s comfortable in her own skin, she can’t stand the curves. She hides them in bindings and loose clothing, hand-me-downs from her older siblings.

Everyone says she’s built like her mother, the same sculpted face, delicate jawline, high cheekbones, deep set misty green eyes, full pink lips and her straight, chiseled nose. She looks feminine and delicate, if you see her in the right light. Dark purple circles have formed from years of fitful sleep, and those misty green eyes seem to carry a weight in them. Her face in always set in such a way that she looks almost bored, hiding her true feelings from all those around her. She bares only a few scars, the worst being on her face. At the age of seven she was bitten in the face by a stray dog, leaving garish marks on the left side of her mouth, and thin white lines from beneath her eye nearly to her ear where its sharp teeth had ripped open her flesh. They’re garish marks, and everyone whispers what a shame it is she has them. Her hands are scarred and calloused from years of hard work, and there’s a small lump on her left thumb where she’d broken it only a year ago.

Her voice is calm and quite, it has that soothing quality one would use when speaking to a frightened animal. It’s like the falling of snow in an open meadow, peaceful and beautiful in a way that makes you take pause and take notice. It’s as if she has the natural ability to sooth the fear and tension of those around her, whether by speaking or humming – something she hasn’t quite done since she was a child. Her voice has taken on a more melancholy tone is more recent years, as she’s taken the tesserae, fear always building that one day her name might be pulled out of one of those damned fish bowls.

To the outside world Maija is reserved and quite, and harsh. She has a haunted look about her, like a caged animal that’s waiting patiently for its time to strike. She won’t say much, only what she has to, and most people think she’d a little touched from the loss of her family. That’s fine though, people avoid the insane. She doesn’t trust most people, she’s careful never to be rude, but she wants to avoid everyone, she doesn’t want them nosing into her life. Most people in District 12 keep to themselves, but there are some who find joy in talking about other people’s lives, maybe to try and escape their own, but Maija didn’t want to be a part in their gossip games.

To those who know her, wild is the only way to describe her. She’s fiercely loyal, ready at the drop of a hat to defend her family whether with words or with fists. Her temper’s like a match stick, short and once its lit bursts into flame. She has a habit of saying things she doesn’t mean, allowing her anger to get the better of her judgment, and she has a lot of anger. She has rage that has welled up inside her from losing her mother, anger from losing her family, anger from being left to starve and die by the Capital. It’s more than resentment she feels for the Capital though, it’s a burning hatred, ever since they took her cousin away. She’d had to watch on the screen as he’d been killed, as the life had faded from his eyes. He’d been taken for no good reason, and it had made her sick. Every year, the night before the reaping – at least since she’s come of age – she’s been sick to her stomach, terrified of being called, terrified of being cast into the arena. She’s not afraid for herself, she’s not afraid of dying, she’s only afraid that her family will have to sit and watch, helpless to save her. Just like with Cody.

There used to be laughter in those misty green eyes and a smile on those perfect pink lips, that was before she lost everything. She used to joke and play with the other children, used to sing songs in school and sit with a group of kids from her class. She used to have friends, people that could make her smile, that was before everything. Now the youth and the laughter has faded, and she feels as though she’s lived a thousand lives, worn and tired and faded, as if at any moment the wind might blow her dust, and take her away. That, however, would be far too easy.

It was one of the stories she’d heard a thousand times, how her parents met. Will was a miner’s son, like everyone else, and she was the tailor’s daughter. She’d always laugh when he’d retell how he was always tongue tied around her and often thought she must have hated him because he could never seem to get the words right. All it took to make her fall in love with him, however, was a flower. A little blue wildflower he’d picked outside the fence, in the wilds. Maija had always thought he was so brave for breaking the rules and going out to get that flower for the girl he loved. She learned later, however, that he did more than just pick flowers. She gave up her merchant life to marry him against the wishes of her friends and family because that was love – sacrifice.

Maija had never known her mother’s love, she’d died when Maija was 5. She died brining Maija’s little sister into the world. The baby didn’t live long either. The void it had left in Maija’s life was something no one could ever fill. Jealousy flowed through her veins at the sight of other girls and their mothers, their laughter and smiles, memories she would never have. There were only a handful of memories she had of her mother, and they were so fuzzy and fragile, only pieces of memories really. While she lacked a mother, she had no shortage of family. There was her father and Uncle who shared a house, her two old brothers. It made their little house crowded at times, but it was warm and welcoming. On summer nights they’d sit outside the house, laughing at stories her father and Uncle would tell, or looking up at the stars and naming the constellations. When she was about ten, her father took her outside their little town, and it was terrifying for her.

District 12 was a lot bigger than just their litte town, and she remembered in all the teapings they’d gone too they’d had to leave long before sunrise to make it there in time. Off the main road there was a big expanse of trees that they called ‘the tame forest’. It was a good two hour hike from their home, and they really weren’t supposed to go that far up the road, but the peacekeepers didn’t seem to notice. Her first time in the woods had been terrifying, she’d been afraid of wild animals and rusty old bear traps, but her father’s steady reassurance that they were still inside the barrier, along with the company of her eldest brother, had quickly quelled her fears. They’d tried to teach her to shoot the wild turkey and rabbits and squirrels that would pass the barrier, but her eyes weren’t quite good enough for her to focus at long range, she’d needed to get closer, almost too close, for her targets to hit home. But she was good at other things, like tracking and identifying plants and edible berries and nuts. She’d helped keep them alive, and it made her feel like she was helping her family, even though she was too young to have a real job. Those were some of her happiest moments, out in the wilderness with her father and brother. It all changed though.

It had been the day before her thirteenth birthday, and she’d gone off to school with the promise from her family that they’d do something special for her that night. All four men in the house worked in the mines. Her eldest brother, Marco, had been down there for there for four years already, while Ross had been in the mines for half as long. She’d gone to school, filled with excitement, wondering exactly when they were planning. They’d been working silently on a sheet of math problems when the principal had come into the room, her straightened his tie and cleared his throat before asking the teacher if he could see Maija. Immediately the girl saw her teacher’s face go pale, and her glance darted back and forth between the principal and her teacher. Her teacher had told her to go, saying that it would be alright if she didn’t finish her assignment. All the other kids had watched her go.

She would never forget that day. Never forget how solemn the principle had looked when he’d sat her down and told her that there’d been an accident. Her whole world had been ripped to shreds, all of the happiness and her excitement about the following day was gone. It had been an accident in the mines, an explosion that had killed almost everyone she loved. Her father, her Uncle and Marco would never see the sun again, and their ghosts would wander in the darkness of the mines forever. There weren’t even bodies to burry. Ross had survived, he’d been further along, safe enough away from the blast sight, but not totally unharmed. A part of the tunnel had collapsed on him, crushing the bone in his left leg beyond repair. He’d lost it, just below the knee, and he’d never work in the mines again.

Her life had changed dramatically. Ross couldn’t work, not in the mines, but their mother’s sister had a soft spot for them and allowed him to work in the tailor’s shop, hidden in the back room, sewing cloths and cleaning the store. His meager salary hadn’t been enough, and that year had been the first time she’d had to take the tessera, but it still wasn’t enough. She avoided the ‘woods’ for a year, it was the longest she could stay away, but they were starving, and Ross was dying. She did what she had to do, and it was more than enough to keep them alive and better fed than most people in the district. Put she knew it put her in danger, that long two hour walk through town up to the road, every time she slipped through that fence she was leaving Ross alone, and if something had happened to him….she never could have forgiven herself.