Aspen Joline Becker // D10

When you hear my name you wouldn't expect to see the appearance behind it. You might picture a tall flawless blonde, perhaps from District 1, with superior fighting skills and people kissing the ground she walks on. Well, at least, that's what my mother was expecting. She was very wrong.

Standing at a mere five foot three, my build is very small and I only weigh about 90 pounds, depending on the amount of food my family can spare. I'm not strong in the slightest bit, but when it comes to speed and agility I have no problem. My hair falls to the middle of my back in dark waves of auburn. I usually keep it trimmed to this length so it doesn't get too terribly in the way and attempt to keep it as clean as possible. My mother won't allow me to cut it any shorter even though I consider it useless to keep. Beauty is important to her and she simply won't allow her daughter walking around looking like a boy.

My facial structure is sharp, with a slightly pointed chin, a small nose, and high dramatically placed cheek bones. Cleverly concealing my imperfect teeth are lips that are leaning a bit toward the thin side, but have maintained the same shade of light red since I was a babe. Dominating my face are my eyes, which have always been the most annoying, aggravating, attention grabbing trait about myself. While the one on my left is a dull shade of muddy brown, to the right lays a bright, fluorescent blue color that causes those who don't know me to stare. My mother says I get it from my father's side of the family. I wish the genes had skipped another generation. Surrounding my eyes are dark lashes and sharply knitted eyebrows that always make me look pissed off or in deep concentration about something. Which usually, I am.

Unfortuanatly, my skin tone makes my abnormal eye stick out even more so. I take on a darker shade that you might see if someone pale fell asleep in the sun all day. This is also from my father's side, who has a similar appearance as me. As far as what I got from my mother, the only noticable things are my build and the shape of my face. Otherwise, we are nothing alike.

I suppose I could be considered pretty, although I never take the time to look in the mirror of actually care. In District 10, there are far more important things to worry about. Like starving. Spending hours picking apart my face is not going to put food on the table. Sometimes I let my mother do my hair or put me in a dress, but this is only on special occasions, like a reaping. My wardrobe consists of whatever is left of my old denim jeans and a dirty torn T-shirt. I can't bring myself to waste precious money on what is deemed stylish.

At first sight, I may look bitter and unlikeable. Well, darling, you are correct. From birth I've been stubborn, refusing to give up or get help with an undying determination to be the best. Because if you are not first, you are last. The Hunger Games are living (or dying) proof of that. I have a bit of an attitude problem when someone irritates me, and in no way will I ever hold back my opinion even if it's rude or could get me killed or something. It's not like a life in District 10 is worth living, anyways.

As far as friends go, I do not have them. There are people who ignore me, which I like best. People who tolerate me, like my parents, and those who hate me. I figure the less people there are to love the less it will hurt when they are gone. I do love my father, and sometimes my mother when she isn't trying to make me the perfect daughter. I can tell she's disappointed in how I've turned out. So much like her husband, who is the only one who can really understand me. How my brain works and disects problems until they make sense. How my eyes can see things, details, that others might skim by and miss. What I lack in words and muscle will be made up for in wits.

Sarcasm is a pretty common thing for me, for the simple reason that I cannot stand idiots. Whoever said there are no stupid questions needs to be shot. I have no sympathy for those who live in their dreams or hopes and get their hearts ripped out of their chests. The only thing that matters to me is the present. What's happening now. Time spent dwelling on the past or the future are seconds wasted, when you could be doing something productive.

There are moments when I am happy, surprisingly. Like when my brother tried to ride one of our cattle and got a face full of dirt instead. Or when my father came home with a stray cat when I was four. Even when my mother baked that sugary cake for me on my twelth birthday, because she felt bad I was already signed up for a tesserae. But I hardly ever smile. I guess I'm just not that optomistic.

I suppose there may be a soft side under all of these rough edges, a side that wants to learn how to love. But you can never really trust a person, because when faced with the correct circumstances, everyone will grab that knife and stab you in the back.

As far as the Hunger Games go, I despise of them. Not particularily the innocent murders, although I don't favor them, but I hate how the Capitol has so much power over everyone. I hate being controlled. It's always so obvious that Districts 1, 2, and 4 are the ones they want to win and the rest of us are just pieces in the game. Entertainment. If I were ever sent into them, my only advantage would be my wits. I suppose I'm pretty good with a knife as well, from years of helping my father skin and gut our cattle. But I'd hang myself before training like a career. I'm not the nicest person in history, but I'm not a ruthless killer.

And I'm not a puppet.

Compared to many people in District 10, I've had a rather privilaged life. I have two parents who are very much alive and can provide for themselves as well as me. My father, Dil, is a butcher, while my mother, Elise, and I tend to the few cattle we have on what little land we've managed to pay for. About ninety percent of our meat goes to the Capitol, while the rest is sold to the people in our District. We eat what nobody wants, or what's too spoiled to be sold. Our money is carefully divided between paying for our small home, land, the shop, some food, and other things such as medicine or clothing. By the end of the month there is almost nothing left over. I cannot even count the number of times we've almost lost everything. Luckily, I turned twelve before that happened and I was able to help out by applying for a tesserae

I used to have a brother who was four years older than me. When I was fourteen and he was eighteen, he fled the District, telling only me. Although he was quick and strong, he was caught and turned into an Avox. I'd give anything to see him again, to go back to the day he left and make him stay. But soon after I learned of his capture, I accepted is and moved on. There's no sense in wishing for something that will never be possible. However, I do hate the Capitol. Personally I'd love to see President Snow's throat slit. I've never ventured beyond the fence of our District. I have no reason to. And honestly, I do not want to become and Avox, like my brother. I'd rather die than serve the Capitol.

School has been pretty easy for me, although I do struggle when learning about the history of Panem. I'm not dumb enough to be brainwashed, therefore the pathetic teachings of the Capitol makes me sick to my stomach. There has never been anyone other than my family that has particularily impacted my life on an emotional level. One time a girl named Wendy told me I was ugly and weird, but insecurities have never affected me. There's been a few people I could call 'friends' but it was nothing more than toleration between us. The relationship I have with my parents is what you could consider pretty normal. My father and I see eye-to-eye while, unfortuanatly, my mother and I have never been on the same level. She is constantly trying to make me more like her and just can't accept me for who I am. As soon as she does, I think her life might have a little bit less disappointment.

I spend my days helping my father butcher the cattle or breed what few of them we have, because buying all new animals each year isn't an option. Our small business is actually doing well and we had enough money last year to buy a couple chickens, so I guess I shouldn't complain. But compared to the rich glamorous life of a District such as 1 or 2, living life the way my family and I do is hard to imagine.