Enigma Fenn (13) D1F
Six Years Ago
"Enigma, will you come downstairs? I need to see how this dress will fit on Anastasia," I said to myself, closing my window and starting to head downstairs. It was Monday. Mom hadn't tried to sew anything for Anastasia in weeks. She had last picked out a blue cloth, Anastasia's favorite color. It was only a matter of time until she was the one speaking rather than I.
"Enigma? Will you come downstairs? I need you to model Anastasia's dress," my mom said. I decided my guess was close enough. I didn't have to be perfect just yet, but I would try to be closer next time.
"I'm already here, Mom." I stepped into our living room, taking the dress from Sherry. I knew the dress wouldn't fit me right, and I knew Anastasia would never wear it. She didn't exist, after all. I was just humoring my mother, like I always did. If I didn't, she would get mad and tell me to stop training. If I did, she would wake up from her dream just a little bit, and she would encourage me. It was a game I always played, even though Sherry didn't know she did.
Sure enough, the blue dress was just a bit too big for me. Anastasia was supposedly a bit smaller than I was, so it didn't fit her, either. It hugged my waist nicely, but it was too long to be wearable, and it was a little loose up top. Plenty of kids my age wouldn't have a hard time wearing it. I was short, so other kids would be fine in it, but Anastasia was shorter than I. Oh dear. That doesn't fit you at all. I guess I'll have to sell this one to someone else. Go back to your training, all right? I'll make a new one.
"Hm. That one doesn't fit you at all. I'll just sell it and make another. Go back to your training." Dang. Even farther off than last time. She's going to take it and put it on the second shelf. She's not actually going to sell it, she likes Anastasia too much. But she will get to work on another right away. I knew my mom well enough to know what she was going to do most of the time. I knew just about any person well enough to have a good guess, but that was one of the skills I was training. I was best with my mother, but every kid knows their mother better than everyone else.
Sherry put the dress on the second shelf, no price tag on it, and pulled out another piece of cloth. I went upstairs. I was training harder than my mother could ever hope to know. She knew most things about me as well as I knew most things about her, but she thought I was just a dumb kid, training because "everyone's doing it!" She didn't know that I was a smart kid, training because we could use the money the Games would get us. We were a well-off family, but not as well-off as we wanted to be. If I wanted to become a total genius, find a cure for schizophrenia, and make sure it was free to everyone who needed it, I would need a lot more money than we had.
So I'm going to win this, Mom. I'm going to win it for you.
Quick context: I told someone I would write their tribute in my story and promptly forgot about them. CTTS&ROTH will be my last SYOT for at least a while (aka possibly forever), so she's getting her own story now.