Sommer Arborlinn D11 {Done}

I have corkscrew blond hair; it twists all tight like a piglet’s tale, and it’s soft and snowy as lamb’s wool. I keep it short cause if I don’t it tangles worse than a fishing line. And they say nothing tangles worse than a fishing line. I think my face is pretty pale. In a gross way, y’know? Like milk when they take out all the cream, kinda blue-ish. But Mama says I should never trust my own thoughts. Says I should get a second opinion from someone who might actually have some sense. And my Daddy thinks that my skin is beautiful, “like snowy lace,” he says. So I guess it’s all right. My eyes are blue but thin and sort of far apart. I think they sit on my face weird. My eyelashes are wispy and blond, so you don’t even notice they’re there. I’ve got thin lips. My lower lip is larger than my upper lip, and my upper lip sorta sticks out odd. I think that my lips are awfully close to my nose. Oh, and I have a teeny-tiny cleft in my chin like Daddy. I look at my face and all I see is a bunch of oddities. But people say they come together in a sort of delicate beauty. I still don’t see it. Mama once told me that I have the face of an angel when I’m not thinking. She’s says I look awful stupid when I think. Something to do with stupid thoughts make a stupid face.

Mama’s described my build as fragile. My brothers call it weak. Daddy calls it ladylike. My sisters say I look like a fairy or an imp. When there are that many opinions about one thing, I never know what to think, so I don’t. I’ll just tell you the facts, suppose that’s the easiest way to avoid a fight. I’m short and spindly, real thin with a small bust and small hips. That’s partly from not much food. We’ve got lots of kids and eating can be a problem. My feet and hands are real small too. Daddy once said my hands are “elegant” and they look like they’ve never done a day’s work. That made me steaming mad. Didn’t talk to him for days. I work all the time, that’s something I know. Even if I’m not real muscly.

I’m not very good at concentrating. Leastaways, not on the things I’m supposed to be. I can concentrate real hard on my daydreams, but that’s cause they’re so nice. Daddy says I’m a romantic, always thinking of better things, never bring my head out of the clouds. He says that’s bad for farm work. But I’m a hard worker, and I’m not thinking of crazy things. My dreams aren’t real big or fancy. I dream of marrying, settling down, having kids, my own orchard to tend to, maybe a few goats. See? Not so different from what I’ve got now. Still, somehow, even that sort of life seems so far away. Guess that’s mostly cause of how I am around boys. Awkward. Even more than normal. They scare me in an exciting sort of way. Sure I have brothers, but they’re not the same. Boys are wonderful mystery to me, something wonderful I only dream of. Ma says I’ll be swept off my feet by the first boy who comes my way, I’m so enchanted by them. I don’t think so. But it does seem like Ma’s usually right.

I guess by now you’ve come round to what Daddy sometimes calls my defining feature. I’m not so bright. “Dumb as an ox” my little sister says. “More like a sheep” my mother argues. Mama’s probably right. I don’t think I’m flat out dumb, though I don’t know for sure. I’ve seen really dumb people, and they’re usually, I don’t know, either giggly or mean. I’m not. I just don’t know what to do round other folks. I’d rather be dreaming on my own, where I know what’s good. Sometimes when people startle me out of a daydream, I just can’t shake it. Then I get all discombobulated. I make scenes. I act awkward. Guess I just don’t know what a person’s supposed to do. Ma says I can’t read social situations or emotions very well. I have an awful way of saying just the thing to offend a person without realizing it. I don’t mean to. It makes me hurt inside when I know I cause trouble. I’m awfully shy too, so that doesn’t help. I don’t know…people scare me some times. Expect you to be polite and funny and know how to make conversation. Expect you to be interesting. And I’m just not.

Mama says I’m more like a sheep cause I’m a follower. Don’t think a whole bunch, and I love rules and authorities. Love leaders too. They make me feel safe, lay out a plan for the right things to do at the right times. That way I’m not so awkward. If I’m following rules or obeying an authority, no one can tell me I’m doing the wrong thing. I just want a little security. A little certainty.

Well like I said, I’ve got an awfully big family. For a lower district anyway. There’s Ma, Pa, Bobby (18), my twin Hickory Grace (16), Annabeth (15), Pippin (13), and little baby Apricot (7). We call her “Ricky”. So six of us total. I don’t have much of a history to tell of. My Daddy owns a small orchard. Not big enough for us to work there and make a decent living, just big enough to have some extra food for the winter. I grew up working in our orchard, and when I turned ten I started working with the rest of the family in the big orchards. That’s where we make our pay. We make a decent living all things considered, but we have to take tessara. We don’t really have an option about that. Even so, we still go hungry from time to time, especially in the winter when there’s not enough food.

There was a baby between Pippin and Apricot who died of hunger one winter. It was the most horrible thing. We had enough to feed her, though it was an awfully bad winter, but then one day a Peacekeeper came to our house. Knocked real hard on the door of our little two room house. Told us the Peacekeepers needed food just as bad as we did and they didn’t have a convenient little orchard to feed themselves from. So they took our food. All of it. We foraged and did our best, I learned a lot about the wild things a person can and can’t eat that winter, but even though we fed the baby first every day, she died within a fortnight. So you see, I grew up around violence, the Peacekeepers are brutal here, but it still terrifies me on a daily basis.

Besides that…there’s not a whole lot. I could tell you about my siblings I guess. Bobby’s great, he understands me. Hickory is my opposite, confident and a boy magnet, a touch rebellious and determined to seem well brought up. Annabeth wants to be just like Hickory, but she’s a shameless flirt. Pippin is a silent sort of comedian. And Apricot is our baby, so she’s a bit entitled. My Ma and Pa are hard workers and they love each other and us very much. There’s not much else to tell. I’ll catch you up when I have my own family.