District 1: Velvet Grey
Apr 14, 2018 9:34:41 GMT -5
Post by Sockie on Apr 14, 2018 9:34:41 GMT -5
VELVET GREY
district one -- age seventeen
Lacy begins pulling the next set of chinaware out of the cabinets. As she sets down the delicate little teacups, I pick them up, one by one. With the linen cloth and a plate of warm water I help them shine. Because nothing beautiful ever lasts. The first two hours of every morning are spent polishing. It does not matter that the Kottows only use two dish sets. All nine have to be cleaned or we'll be thrown out.
By us I mean my sister and I. Lacy is three years my elder, but as a best friend to me. Clearly not every family in District 1 can be wealthy and train every day. Someone does the cleaning. Someone waits the parties. Those someones include the Grey sisters. Even as a young child our family struggled, and we were looked down upon because of my father's questionable attitude towards the government. He lost a good job to an over opinionated news article. His lost his life to over opinionated speech.
"Vel, watch your elbow," my sister says, quietly. I turn my head to see how close a plate had been to being knocked off the edge, and carefully scoot it further towards the line. We have never broken a plate, but I saw one broken once during one of Mr. Kottow's rages against his son. I'd hate for that rage to be directed at me.
At ten years old I was able to go to work with my mother and sister, although it was unofficial and mostly work for experience. While they made watches I swept up and retrieved little pieces that rolled under the furniture. That is one thing I never lost - small hands and a bony body. A long time ago it could have been from poverty but as the Kottows provide us with three meals a day I figure I'm likely just a naturally small person. My sister is similar, and my mother was also small.
When Lacy and I finish with the china, we move onto the bedrooms. By this time of the morning the Kottows are generally out of bed, although we still knock to make sure. We have been working for them the past three years, after our mother brought us to them, desperate for sustainable jobs. She killed herself only a few weeks later. I think she was disappointed in her own failure to provide us with typical training. While many of our peers took tesserae out of desire for the games - my sister and I took it out of necessity.
I am not unsatisfied with my life, on the contrary, I'm perfectly happy to clean and wait on spoiled careers if it means they volunteer in the place of my sister or I. Living here, we have food every day and a place to sleep. There is little free time, but I'm more of an introvert anyway, and the weekly grocery run is enough interaction for me. Lacy and I have been looked down on for our messy brown hair and generally humourless personalities, but my sister shares my feelings about it and we got on just fine.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like at the top of our District. The Kottows are close, but not quite there, and watching them is just watching a group of future failures try their hardest to be respectable. I still don't leave. Living here is easy, despite the all-day work. I don't worry about bills. I don't worry about lunch. I don't worry about training, or what I'm wearing. I can just be with my sister, and I like it that way. When things get complicated I get depressed.
Lacy starts picking up the china and putting it back in the cabinets, so I stand up and help her. The one thing I have over her is my levelheadedness. She is the type to cry and yell, and so it's difficult for her to be around conflict. I depress, but I can hide it, and I rarely lose my temper even in very frustrating situations. I take pride in that skill, as if it's the most power I will ever have over myself.
"Vel, watch your elbow," my sister says, quietly. I turn my head to see how close a plate had been to being knocked off the edge, and carefully scoot it further towards the line. We have never broken a plate, but I saw one broken once during one of Mr. Kottow's rages against his son. I'd hate for that rage to be directed at me.
At ten years old I was able to go to work with my mother and sister, although it was unofficial and mostly work for experience. While they made watches I swept up and retrieved little pieces that rolled under the furniture. That is one thing I never lost - small hands and a bony body. A long time ago it could have been from poverty but as the Kottows provide us with three meals a day I figure I'm likely just a naturally small person. My sister is similar, and my mother was also small.
When Lacy and I finish with the china, we move onto the bedrooms. By this time of the morning the Kottows are generally out of bed, although we still knock to make sure. We have been working for them the past three years, after our mother brought us to them, desperate for sustainable jobs. She killed herself only a few weeks later. I think she was disappointed in her own failure to provide us with typical training. While many of our peers took tesserae out of desire for the games - my sister and I took it out of necessity.
I am not unsatisfied with my life, on the contrary, I'm perfectly happy to clean and wait on spoiled careers if it means they volunteer in the place of my sister or I. Living here, we have food every day and a place to sleep. There is little free time, but I'm more of an introvert anyway, and the weekly grocery run is enough interaction for me. Lacy and I have been looked down on for our messy brown hair and generally humourless personalities, but my sister shares my feelings about it and we got on just fine.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like at the top of our District. The Kottows are close, but not quite there, and watching them is just watching a group of future failures try their hardest to be respectable. I still don't leave. Living here is easy, despite the all-day work. I don't worry about bills. I don't worry about lunch. I don't worry about training, or what I'm wearing. I can just be with my sister, and I like it that way. When things get complicated I get depressed.
Lacy starts picking up the china and putting it back in the cabinets, so I stand up and help her. The one thing I have over her is my levelheadedness. She is the type to cry and yell, and so it's difficult for her to be around conflict. I depress, but I can hide it, and I rarely lose my temper even in very frustrating situations. I take pride in that skill, as if it's the most power I will ever have over myself.
THANKS ANNECORDELIA
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