MARCELINE KOREN • d4

I knew from the start that I was queer and that I didn't belong. Out of all of my sixteen years, I've never once felt that I had a place among the others. I dropped out of school. My family despises me. Being hated is not a good thing when you're a part of a wealthy family. You don't get your fair share of the riches.
Since I was not promised anything in my parents' wills, I started looking for ways to earn a quick buck. I showcased my basic talents; dancing and singing; on the side of the main road where fishers walked to work. I reeled in enough money to buy a full closet; but after a while I could sense the crowd getting bored. I looked to up my game; if I always kept the crowd on their toes, I'd keep getting money.
When I was seven, my parents enrolled me in gymnastics. I thought it was pointless then, but now I look back and thank them. I contort through the streets, doing all kinds of stunts. My feet and hands are bruised and calloused from the cold hard ground. My legs are always sore from bending into odd shapes. Still, I'd do whatever it takes for the money. Eventually, I began to notice that my male fans were beginning to request provocative dances and poses. My parents were disappointed in me for my decision, but why would I refuse to do what the public desired? They wanted my body, they'd get it.
Of course I was only fourteen when I became a... well, you know. So I took things slow and set a high fee for my service. The number of fishers who wanted sex from me was overwhelming. Fortunately for me, I didn't get pregnant. Infertility... it runs in the family. My mom and dad got married and immediately hired a surrogate mother to pop out kids for them. It was kind of sickening. Though, I guess I'm not all that innocent, being a prostitute and all. There. I said it.
My street performances began interfering with school and Career training. So, why not bring my lessons on the road? I demonstrated my skill with poleswords and throwing knives, then proceeded to swallow them like I was in a circus act. Of course, I had to pay up for the lost weapons. Eventually I ended up with no profit from some performances, so I stopped playing with weapons altogether. I did shout out random facts sometimes while performing tricks, and I told cheesy jokes at a futile attempt to be funny.
Eventually I could not handle both school and my career. I rushed to finish my training and managed to make it out of the academy with mediocre scores. Education was a heavy weight, one I could hardly hold. I dropped it like a bomb, and I flunked out of school. I went from high honors to living on the wild side, partying and drinking on the beach. Patricia and Philip - my so-called parents - didn't even care that I had a dream to fulfill, or a job to keep me occupied. They fretted about me turning into a drugatic or a hermit, and tried to guide me down the right path. Instead, I danced right back down to the dark side, riding a rusty unicycle that washed up on the beach.
My rebellious attitude didn't originate from pure hatred. I once was loved, suffocated by sweet white lies and frilly blue dresses. I was always herded away from the tridents and the fishing nets, and forced into etiquette lessons. Like my older sisters, Charity and Cordelia, I was being fabricated, having my whole world projected onto me. I was filthy rich, with money raining down over me. They wanted me to flaunt diamond-studded clothes and different body paints like I was some Capitol marionette. Hell no. I didn't want to be controlled, I wanted to live and learn. I ran with the boys, went skinny dipping and always ruined my clothes. I shocked my mother out of her underpants more than once, and the vulgar jokes I made caused my poor old father to faint. But why should I care? I was living the life! Crushing spirits, playing with hearts and ruining lives. That was what a Career did, right?
Though, I can't say I'm exactly pleased with my actions in the past. I had my first kiss when I was ten; it was light, airy and innocent. But of course my parents have to crush anything and everything that ruins their plans for my future. I had an unreasonable curfew and a strict set of rules in place for me. The more time I spent in prison, the more I wanted out.
Eventually the word got out that the hired surrogate for Patricia and Philip had been sleeping around. I was not even slightly related to my parents and sisters. I took that as my chance. So I stood up for myself for the first time, and I broke free.
I still feel like I'm missing something though. What more could I possibly want? I had fame, fortune, friends — that was all a girl really needed. I look at my reflection in the sea, my fingers curling through the white waters and distorting the image. I am a rare gem, somebody who is elusive yet stands out when finally spotted. My dark hair is in a thick braid down my back, with stray curls loose here and there. My eyelids are dark, and there is facepaint smudged on my cheeks. I bring the water up to my face and rub my face raw, scrubbing the paint off. What is left over from the performance is a lost spirit. My green eyes are bloodshot. I am pale, and lightheaded from rough nights of twirling, flipping and spreading my legs for men. I splash my face one more time, burying my head in my hands. I start feeling miserable, and I start to regret my decisions. But, the crowd was already riveted. Why disappoint them now, when I have so far to fall?
It came to my attention that I had been laying on the beach for a while, the sleeping form of a drunk fisher resting a few feet away. He looked over forty years old, and the fact that I had sold my body to him was revolting. I was a vile creature. But I didn't care. I slipped on my clothes and returned to town, preparing for my next live act.
This is the life.