petra larson | district two | fin | cb

She was the girl who never really cared what others thought: if she felt like dancing in the middle of the training center, she did it. If she wanted to walk out of class to smoke a cigarette, she did it. She was chipped fingernail polish and a magnetic attitude, and she she was as reckless as she was beautiful.

Her mother would have liked for her to settle down: live a tame life. But nothing about her was tame. She felt free on her own: a flight risk with pretty brown eyes and pigeon toes. She wasn't shy about telling them how little she cared, or how she almost hoped she would get punished for the stupid things she did because, well, at least then she would be noticed. Attention for who she was. That was what she wanted, to be loved for being herself and not the robot her mother expected her and her sisters to be.

So she'll keep dancing, and keep inhaling smoke, and one day someone will love her for it.