Marvis "Marbles" O'Leary [D9] {wip}

Name: The name be Marvis "Marbles" O'Leary. But if I catch ya calling me anything but Marbles, ya bet I hit ya pretty good in ya pretty face.

Age: When Soap went adventurin', I was only ten years old. Today I am twelve, just old enough to go into the games myself.

District: Nine, born and raised like the good cattle I am.

Occupation: They sometimes call me the "Marbles Master". Probably because I have beaten each and every one of them fair and square.

Status: Once we were poor folk. We hardly had any bread to eat at night. Now that Soap has returned from the Games, we be rolling in the rich-folks papers. It's an awful lifestyle if you ask me.

Family: There's seven of us in total. I'm the youngest. Then comes Hannah, who is fourteen. After that, my brother, a sister, another brother, and of course, Soap. His name is actually Colgate, but we don't call him that. Just like nobody calls me anything but Marbles. Colgate is Soap and that's all there is to it.

Orientation: I think I am straight, but of course I am too young to know. Girls are really gross, ya hear?

Face Claim: Some say I look a little bit like that boy "Ridge Canipe" who lived in the times of the Americas.

Song: "Counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums." - A Perfect Circle

Codeword: oDair

text

On the grimy streets of District Nine, nobody goes by their proper name anymore. When I first wandered into the dust-covered alleys, I introduced myself as Marvis O'Leary. I didn't know no better. I knew the boys vaguely at that point, but I had never partaken in any of their riffraff before. I was six years young when I first convinced my eldest brother to take me to the more dangerous part of the shanties in which we once lived. I wasn't afraid of the streets. I was at risk of starving to death everyday. How much more harm could a shady corner bring a boy who was stick-thin and emaciated from years of little food and hard work?

The boys were quite frank with me at first. When Soap and I first strolled into the dark alley that led to their sunlit street corner (that walk seemed so much longer back then), a boy with dirty fingernails and an overwhelming smell of body odor leaned against the left wall and leered at us. He would have been much more intimidating if he had been taller. As it was, he was about the same height as my much older sister. I thought if odd for a boy so obviously older to be so short. All I knew was tall. Soap was tall, and my limbs, long even then, were certainly going to be just as stretched out as his were.

"What's your name, boy?" The stranger asked me with a slight drawl. He chewed on a toothpick, and I saw his yellowing teeth. I thought them odd at the time, but I guess mine are close to the same these days. I thought that his would fall out pretty soon if he didn't find a way to take better care of them. Yellow teeth weren't unsual though. In fact but they were a pretty common site in the district, but I didn't realize it then. Only the rich folks could afford to pamper their health. The rest of us had to suffer. There ain't a doctor if you can't pay. Nobody was that generous here.

I continued to look at his teeth, and I saw that one was rather scraggly. It was probably chipped off in a scuffle. Fights were common on the streets. It ain't rare for someone to lose a tooth now and again. As I examined the yellow wall of rotten bone, I licked my own set of stones just in case they may have decayed from being in the presence of such a decrepit set. I guess it don't work like that. You only lose a tooth if you provoke someone round here. Or win a game unfairly. Nobody has time for cheaters when you're playing for food. Luckily, my teeth were all still there. That was almost true today. I lost a right molar in a fist-fight at the age of 9. But at age six I could still smile and revel in the fact that they were all there. I didn't have to start my journey through the streets with some disadvantage in the mouth department.

"Marvis. I'm Marvis." I told the boy truthfully. He sneers in response. I remember I felt nervous. My heart beat a war rhythm on the slices of my ribs, and thumped against my stained t-shirt. If it wasn't for that thin bit of fabric the boy would have seen the flutterbeat of my chest. Nobody can miss much that goes on in there when you're all skin and bones. Really you probably could have stolen away my stretched-out skin and not been able to tell the difference. I was...am a walking skeleton. The only difference now is the fact that I'm about a foot taller. I'm slowing creeping up on Soap's height.

Back then, the family was too poor to eat much. My mother and father didn't bring in much income. The Capitol took anything they earned away pretty quickly. As a result, our family was a little worse for wear. There was five of us kids, and most of us were too young to go work in the factories. We were dirt poor for a long time.

I decided early on it was my fate to settle for the street life if I wanted to eat. I ain't fit for much else anyway. Soap went and worked in the factory as soon as they allowed him. I still ain't old enough to do some grown up job. Soap's work bought in just enough to feed us enough food to live. Sure, back then we were all pretty miserable, but it was food. Without him, we would of starved a long time ago. If he ever left us, we would have been totally screwed. I had never cared to admit it back then, however. My pride never allowed for such truth. I had to do something to help out, so I convinced the bastard to take me out on the streets. If you do well on the streets, you can provide. It was all the boys would talk about on the playground. You win, you eat, simple as that. So I made a decision, I wanted to learn their little game of marbles. The game that brought both wealth and respect in our schoolyard.

I saw them playing when I took my first walk to the schoolyard. Surrounded by my siblings and over-protective parents, I didn't have much chance to come say hi and ask about the game. They played at Recess too, but I lost my nerve the first couple of times I tried to approach them. They were all pretty gnarly people, and no self-respectable kindergartener walks up to a group of older boys and asks to play with them. They would have laughed me out of the District, I'm sure.

The games were sure different, depending on where they were located. At school they were friendly and jolly. Everyone had a good time and nobody felt upset for any reason. It was all good practice, because when that bell rang they flocked to their chosen alley and let the real games begin. Everyone was competitive. Everyone. It was hard to get into their ranks out there, you really had to  prove yourself.

Every once in a while, a fight would break out between two players. One would feel cheated and the other would say they won fair and square. It didn't take long for the fists to fly and eyes to blacken. They were teenagers, it was natural for them to be a little rough.

Of course, the stakes were pretty high. Everyone brought something worth winning: A spare bit of pocket change, a  loaf of bread, a prized marble. The boys play for keeps. If you lose, you better pay up or else suffer the punishment that they choose for you. There was no mercy on the streets. It was each man for himself.

All I had that day was a half-eaten pack of gum and twenty-seven cents. It wasn't much, but when you're starving three nickles, a dime, and two pennies starts to look pretty tempting. At the very least, with twenty-two more little bronze coins you could buy yourself a stick of cheese or something. Enough to get you through a day without succumbing to the reapers touch.

Truth was, a lot of us starve here in Nine. The Capitol didn't care much for our people, as long as we were still producing to their quotas. They gave us some food, but it usually went to those who needed it in the factories. Everyone else had to fend for themselves and hope that they could scrap enough loose change to afford a days meal.

"You play marbles, Marvis?" The boy asks as he eyes the prize in my hands. He pushes away from the wall and stands before me, blocking our path into the alley. I can see the gang lingering in the distance. They are all chatting about something, but at that age I couldn't pay much attention to their words. Some of them smoke cigarettes, and the cloud of smoke lingers above their heads. I gulp, unsure if this life was something I really wanted to get into.

"Um..." I stop to look up at my oldest brother. He was only 14 then, the same age as some of the boys. Of course he would fit in much more than scrawny little me, but this was supposed to be my hobby, not his. I would never allow it. I gather up the last courage I have and look the strange boy in front of me square in the eye. "Um, yeah. Well, no, but I want to learn, if that's alright with you?"

The boy looks at me shrewdly for a second. Sizes me up. I stare back and wait for his response. After what feels like eternity he closes the gap between us and places a large hand on my back. "Welcome to the gang. Here... I'll show ya how it's done."