Elliot Italyin - District 10

n a m e ---

[/color] elliot layne italyin

n i c k n a m e s ---[/color] when he is getting teased, usually it's elli. some people resort to calling him lee instead of elliot.

d a t e o f b i r t h ---[/color] 13 years old

d i s t r i c t ---[/color] 10[/blockquote]




a p p e a r a n c e ---[/color]

Dear Journal,

It's been 145 days since I started writing in you. Today, people have been sayin' my brother, sister, and I all look like my daddy. That's unfortunate because I don't wanna look like that freakin' bastard. We all share big, blue eyes which came from my father's side of the family. Some argue that they could be grey but I couldn't care less. I have thin eyebrows, which my siblings also share. My mum, an aspiring writer (which she knows she would never be able to become one, especially in District 10), describes my eyes as big and almond shaped and when I smirk, they become small and slit.

I hope soon that I will stop getting compared to my father. I'm sick of it.

Elliot.

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Dear Journal,

I need to get my hair cut soon. I've been askin' Mum for ages to do it for me ('cause of course, we can't afford to go to a barber shop) but she keeps on procrastinating, saying that she can't do it because she's busy with the goats. It's gotten to the point where I've had to tuck my long bangs behind my ears so that they would stay out of my eyes. My dark brown hair reaches down to the middle of my neck. I don't spend very much time on it in the morning, but it does require some attention because it's usually untamed and annoying if I don't. By the end of the day it's usually sticking up at random places because of the activity I do everyday. I wouldn't have to deal with it if my mum would just cut it like she says she will.

Elliot.

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Dear Journal,

I got into a fight today. This boy at school kept on calling me "Ellie" and mocking the way I spoke. He took it way too far when he said "no wonder your father left you" and then I punched him. I was average strength for my age, but that doesn't do you very good in District 10 with all the farm boys who carry loads on their back every day. I lost the fight big time, and I came home with a big black eye and a few bruises on my stomach. If I were a taller boy and didn't just come in at 4'11" and didn't weigh at a mere 95 pounds, I could've easily won the fight. Although I may not be strong at all, my short legs make me faster than most boys my age. I am extremely short. I just hope my growth spurt hits soon, or else I'm forever going to be trapped in non-intimidating body.

Elliot.

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Dear Journal,

My sister is egging me on about how similar we look to each other. She says if I were taller, then we could be twins. We both share the same small but wide noses, and small lips. The only difference is that her jawline is a lot more chiselled than mine, mine being quite wide and my cheeks coming out more than hers. My only concern is how can a boy as tiny as me look like the twin of a girl who is almost a foot taller than me?

Elliot.

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Dear Journal,

My mind keeps flashing back to the day of my first reaping. I was wearing a button up blue shirt with beige coloured khakis, with of course my hair cut as my mum does every reaping. I was as scared as hell that I may get reaped, even though my name was only in the bowl 4 times out of probably a thousand. My clothing style was much different from my regular white or black t-shirts and shorts or jeans. I don't like dressing up, I find it uncomfortable and there is nothing I like more than being comfortable. I'm never seen without my hat, except in school and during reapings. That hat was my father's, and about the only thing he left behind. It's my signature style. Lets just say, I'm definitely not excited for the next reaping.

Elliot.

p e r s o n a l i t y ---[/color]

Dear Journal,

My sister and I got into a fight today. She told me that I was probably the most cockiest boy she had ever met. I knew it was true, I was always showing off (not that I had much to show off, I would take would I could get). She also said I was too violent and too ill-tempered for my own good. I know I definitely have a bit of a temper, but I wouldn't call it violent at all. She's a bad liar, because she repeated about 7 times how I hit and punch her all the time and she very well knows that my morals are don't hurt girls physically. I take after her that way, I'm a bad liar and I know it. That's the reason why I get in so much trouble at school. I know I could easily get away with it if I was a good liar, but most people can see right through my lies. I'm a big troublemaker as well because I like getting my way, and apparently my teachers at school don't respect that. In no way am I as bad as some of the boys in my district, but still, I could be a lot better.

Elliot.

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Dear Journal,

I had to stay at school after hours because one of my teachers wanted to discuss my behaviour at school. She said that I had lots of potential to be something great, but I didn't try hard enough to strive for that potential greatness (her exact words). So in other words, she thinks I'm dumb and could become smarter. Or at least, that's what I assume (I tend to assume a lot). She also assigned me a tutor, which I boldly groaned at. You should have seen the look on her face! I knew I was a big annoyance to her, I was to a lot of adult figures. This will turn out great.

Elliot.

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Dear Journal,

Today me and some group of boys were playing soccer out in the fields. Well, it can't even be considered a real game of soccer considering we picked up the ball and threw it in net most of the time. By the end of the day we were playing a game of tackle football with a soccer ball and without touchdowns... we called it keep away. I am athletic, but I don't play sports regularly. It's not common in District 10. I came up with the idea to play this game. I can be creative when I want to be. The boys were saying how much fun it was. I liked to think that I'm fun. I know I'm pretty talkative too, and I can convince a lot of people into doing stuff that I want them to do. That's partly how I was able to convince them to play the game. I hope we do it again - it was fun.

Elliot.

h i s t o r y ---[/color]

Dear Journal,

Well, this is my first time writing in you. I was given this journal for my 13th birthday and it's been tucked away in my bedroom some place for months. I decided maybe I could begin writing in it, not daily, but whenever something eventful happens. I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm Elliot Italyin (pronounced It-all-een), 13 years old and live in District 10. I'll provide you with a better back story.

I was born into a family of 5, but it didn't stay like that for long after my birth. My mother and father never married, even after 3 kids. I knew I was an accident, although my mother would never admit it. My sister is 3 years older than me, and my brother is 5 years older than me, making them 16 and 18. It kind of sucks being the youngest because they always underestimate me and just shrug me off as a distraction to whatever they were doing.

One of my earliest memories was sitting on the floor of our home, playing with blocks and being all content. Suddenly I heard the sound of knocking on the door, and our door slowly creaking open. I could hear muffled voices, but being only 4 I couldn't understand what they were saying. I remember putting away my blocks and heading towards the door, where I saw the door closed and my mum lying on the ground, crying. "What's wrong? Where's Daddy?" She didn't reply, all she did was shake her head.

After that, I never saw my dad again. It's not like he was involved in my life very much, but still, I'd rather have a father in my life than none at all. I never saw him around town or anything, not even at my first reaping. It was rumoured that my dad had stolen something and was taken to the detention centre, or privately executed. The disappearance was odd and out of the ordinary, but I could feel a vibe from my father that said that he didn't love me when her was younger. When people asked, I just told them that he walked out on us, gone without a single trace.

Since my father left, he abandoned us with the task of taking care of our family's small goat farm. We were known for breeding goats and selling them either as kids or fully grown. I didn't start working on the farm until I was 10 years old, and I bet my family was relieved when I did. I mostly cared for the kids and fed the goats their meals. My sister helps alongside my mother to care for the sick and injured goats, and helped them to give birth. My brother deals with the money and clients who want kids or goats, along with hauling the goats to their new owners.

That basically sums up my life. I can't really think of anything else to introduce myself.

Elliot.

c o d e w o r d ---[/color] <img src="http://i41.tinypic.com/16h2ibt.png">