Mockingjay Mom.

Ch.1 Burnt toast and cracked rocks.

If my mom is the girl on fire and my dad the boy with the bread, does that make me the burnt toast? Because that's what I sure feel like some times. Every year we learn about the Hunger Games and every year they talk about my parents. Everyone expects me to be like my mom a great hunter, a rock that keeps being kicked and thrown and they try so hard to break but they never do. She stays strong and stone cold. They don't even make a crack. Or they want me to be like my dad, the hopeless romantic that will do any thing to get his girl; bake her pies, offer to die, do ANYTHING to protect her.

But I'm not them. I am Pristine Rye Mellark. I am a 14 year old boy with blonde curly hair and gray eyes. I am not like my mom tough and strong. I am not my dad warm and inviting. I am not my amazing sister, Kathleen Rose Mellark who's great at apparently everything! I am a boy who struggles in math and can't even fight off a fly.

Your probably interested in my sister Kathleen and how "amazing" she is. While my parents or anybody else don't say it we all know it. She can fish, hunt, bake, paint, and actually do math, which is more then I can do. She is really pretty but in an odd way, some how the blue eyes go well with her pitch black hair. But I'm not a complete loss cause because I'm really good with rope, lucky me. Great talent right? Can I hunt, fish, bake, paint, do math, or anything retaining to using your brain? Nope, but I can tie a knot!

Maybe someday I will have a useful skill.