Isis Jacobs, District 10 (FINISHED)

A girl sets down a sheet of paper and takes out a black pen, ready to work on a homework assignment. The assignment is to write an auto-biography, to tell of the students' lives in high school. She sits at a small desk in a small house on a huge ranch, where there were cattle grazing outside.

The girl is around eighteen, with long dark blonde hair, and pale green eyes, that look more grey than green. Her blonde hair ended in small curls. Her eyes gleamed in the afternoon light, and she taps the pen against the desk, a quick little beat. She takes out a small brush that she keeps in her back pocket, and after a quick brushing of her locks, she looks back to her paper. But the words won't come.

She stands up quickly, and she paces, trying to make the words appear out of the pen and onto the paper. Her strong tanned legs from working on the farm move her around the room, and her nimble hands swing at her sides. Her nails are dirty, and she bites them to help her think, after another bout of pacing. After trying pacing, she lays down on the small bed and and swing her legs up in the air. The jeans she's wearing hug her legs tightly, and her white t-shirt is shining in the sun coming through her window.

She stand up again, and she kicks her flipflops off. She then stares in front of the mirror, looking at her face. She observes the right side of her face, which is covered in small bumps and scars. She shudders at the sight, and she flips her hair across it, hiding it. She sits at the desk again, and the pen rolls off of the desk and onto the floor. She sighs and picks it up, and then starts thinking again.

The girl sets her head on the table and thinks hard. She thinks hard, but the word just can't come out. Maybe I should think about myself before I write about myself. Ah, yeah, I should. Yeah, my personality maybe.

Ok, so, well, I'm impatient. Yes, I'm very impatient, and I'm indecisive. I can never decide between anything. Like, that one time my dad asked turkey or ham and I couldn't choose. And I can't be the backup, no, I have to be the leader. If anyone else leads, I throw a hissy fit.

I like animals. I love to take care of the cows, like milking them and stuff, but I guess it comes with the district. I love to help people, too. I often take care of other people's horses and cows, and I go to the market to help out my father with selling the beef. I try to help whenever I can. I love my parents and my brother so much. I try to take care of them, and they try to take care of me. I'm really independent, and very stubborn, so it's hard for anyone to agree with me or argue with me.

I hate night time. It's so ominous and dark and dreary. Plus you can't get a tan at night. I love tanning. Tanning is my life. I love to get a good tan, and working out on the farms and the market really helps. I don't like makeup. I don't wear it at all, I prefer to go with a natural look.

I have one major personality flaw, besides being impatient and indecisive. I hate talking to people. I hate talking all together. I prefer writing, and sometimes I go so long without talking, my parents think I'm mute. I have a small voice, and I'm often never heard, so I just don't talk at all.

The girl lifts up her head with sudden inspiration. I will write about my life until I got up into high school. She smiles broadly and rolls the pen in her fingers, thinking for a good starting point. The starting will be when she was young, two, when she had the seizure, and then three, when she got attacked by the cow. That was probably the most interesting point in her life.

Ok, so first off, my name is Isis Jacobs. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my younger brother and parents. My brother's name is Horus. He is twelve, and he is very sickly. He can almost never stand up, and he mostly lays in his bed while my mother brings him food and water. He never talks, like me, and I always hope that someday he will get better.

My mother's name is Penelope Jacobs, and she met my dad Franklin Jacobs at the market. They really hit it off and soon they were married and they had their first kid, me. I was very little when I was born, and the doctors were told I wasn't going to make it. I had a defect on the side of my face, I was very sickly, and I could never get enough nutrition. My parents did whatever they could to help heal me. They gave me as much food as they could spare, and tons of water and milk from our cows.

When I was two, I had a seizure. My parents rushed me to the apothecaries, but by the time they got me there, my heart had stopped. I was declared dead for two minutes. When I started moving again, my parents were amazed. They called me a miracle child, and the news of my survival spread throughout the district. People still call me the miracle child, because everyone was sure I wasn't going to make it.

At the age of three, I was brought onto the farm by my parents for the first time. My mom and dad wanted me to get used to the cows and the horses that were common in our home district. They took me around, and they told me how to approach the cows, and even let me milk one. But that night, I snuck outside to see the cows again, and this bull kicked me in the head from surprise. I was knocked unconscious for forty hours. When I finally awakened, my parents were sure I was a miracle child. I almost died twice.

Now, I work on the farm for as long as I can. I milk the cows, get them food and water, and I clean up the cow patties that they drop to use for fertilizer. I help my mom take care of my brother, and I help my dad take the fresh meat that we sell to the market. I tell my brother about my day at the farms, and at night, I sleep in his room, ready to get him anything he needs. I will do anything for my brother and my parents. I love them so much.