Christian Powers, District 5, Male, Age 14
"What are you making now, little bro?" I looked up, only to see the face of my older brother, Andrew, peering down at me. His face mere inches from mine. Awkwardly I shuffled away from my current position. The floor isn't very comfortable as I slowly skid along it, my butt hits something pointy, I don't shriek. But it sure scared the crap out of me when my leg touched the cold metal.
I hear his laughter, immediately I turn around and glare at him. "Seriously? I'm making something, not quite sure what it is yet, but I'll get there." I say with a shrug of the shoulders. He rolls his eyes at me, but it doesn't stop me from seeing the smile slowly creep onto his face.
I lived what you would call, the easy life. While others were currently starving away, possibly already dead, I was currently in our mansion, tinkering with metals for pure pleasure. My mother had just recently been appointed mayor of District 5. Which definitely brought with it many envious souls.
But it wasn't all easy. My dad was dead. Died in the rebellion. It was a bombing. I was younger then, but the memory was still fresh. He said he was going to work, one of the many factories that littered the District, he said he just needed to check something then he'd be back. It would only take a minute. We waited, Andrew, my mom and I. He didn't come, perhaps he had taken a detour and was buying a treat for us on his way home or something. That's what andrew had told me, a trick he used only to reassure me.
Out of boredom, I turned on the T.V. The news of the bombing had struck, and it was on my TV. I hadn't said anything, instead I just watched, and watched and watched. Too frozen to move my mouth to call out for my family. When Andrew finally came downstairs for a snack, he had dropped his plate upon seeing what I was watching. my mother had cried, my brother had tried to keep it together. And I had been frozen. He used to tinker with me all the time, I always thought that maybe I was his favorite. Mom's too. While I was exactly how they pictured a perfect son, Andrew was quite the opposite. Now at age nineteen, he's turned it down slightly. While Andrew never really got my fascination, dad certainly did. I smiled, remembering. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.
"What're you smiling about?" I look at his red hair, not unlike mine, which was currently resting messily on his head in a messy bed-head. While I will always prefer a nice clean cut, he couldn't care less. My brother is five years older than me, and probably the best friend I've ever had.
Excluding Luke Magnus. We were simply thrown together at lunch one day, talked about our mutual love for tinkering, devices and metal working, we were fast friends. We weren't exactly social, quite the opposite really. He was a year older than me, we didn't have any classes together, which made school lonely, to say the least.
My mother had drilled it into my head about always being prim, proper, smart. And so I was. I was in fact extremely prim, when it came to anything and everything. My hair, always combed to perfection. Clothes always neat never wrinkled.
I was indeed very proper. My desk at home was never messy, unless you count the odd piece of metal lying around. Or maybe that one screw I never quite picked up. My gizmos and gadgets littered my room yes. But to me it wasn't exactly a mess. It was simply, me.
I was also e trembly intelligent, something which vastly helped with my strange hobby. Of tinkering and metal making, something I liked to think I inherited from my father. My mother was just that way, thinking everything had to be perfect.
I think I turned out the way I did because my mother drilled it all into my head at such a young age. My brother was never hard working, the opposite of me, my mother's image of a model son, instead taking his own path instead of the one our mom had given my mother was mayor, she was still very important, working for the government.
"Christian?" A deep voice broke My train of thoughts, I blinked twice before comb back down to earth. My stream of images and thoughts pooping like a balloon. "Sorry, zoned out." Andrew cracked a grin at this, I smiled back. My grey-blue eyes crinkling around the edges.
"I was asking if you wanted to show me what you're making." I looked down at my hands, inside my palms were two little metal blobs. One of them had little pieces of metal sticking out the sides, the other was more cube than circle anyways.
"Erm, not much to look at." I said, finally standing up I order to be able to accomplish my throw. I was aiming for the basket on the far side of my room. I threw the cube, it hit the target, but unfortunately bounced off. I heard Andrew laugh. "Nice throw there, buddy." Groaning, I walked over, grabbed it, and placed it on my desk next to a Pinwheel like invention, which I had deposited of two days ago.
I took the other blob of metal, the one with pieces sticking out of all sides, switched in from my right hand to my left, ready to throw. But before I could a voice interrupted me, for the second time that day.
"Give me that, I'll show you how a real man throws." He had started rolling up his sleeves, revealing the burn mark he had received not too days ago when he had tried to cook. I felt my face break into grin at the thought.
"Real man? You're barely a preteen girl." Glaring at me, he snatched my blog of metal and prepared to throw. "Watch and learn, little bro." He did some sort of stretch with his arm for theatrics. Took a deep breath inwards and... He missed. "Real man huh? I bet our mom can throw better than that." I started laughing as his face went red. I turned my head to look at the pictures on my wall. Some of me and Luke, one or two family photos, but most contained in fact myself and Andrew. I smiled.
"Shut up." I heard the voice of Andrew say from next to me. I simply laughed harder. It was days like these where I was glad to be the mayor's son. Easy life. I looked over at him. His eyes were sparkling mischievously. My smile instantly vanished, a look of horror replacing it. That was never good, ever. My first initial thought was quite simply, Shit.
Andrew jumped, and had tackled me to the ground. For a few seconds, the only thing I could see was the plaid, blue and black shirt of Andrew. Then, from the coprner of my right eye, I saw light. Before I screeched so loudly that I'm pretty sure the neighbors heard it. I had just felt a painful stab to my side.
Instead of punching or anything of that sort. Andrew had tickled me. "S-Stop! It-t tic-ckles!" I managed out in between laughs. "That's the point, doofus!" Despite myself I rolled my eyes as I laughed. I wanted to glare so badly, but I quite frankly, couldn't. He kept going, once though, I managed to flip him onto his back, to try and tickle him. But it failed. He was much stronger than I am. My wiry build cannot outmaneuver his jock like physique. His red bed head, flew madly around his face, becoming messier by the second. When my torture finally ended I was left on the ground, mortified. My brother, Andrew, had left me there, and was now currently dusting himself off. A smug smile on his features. I quickly scrambled upwards, tumbling and tripping over myself a few times on the way. My brother just stood there, a very smug expression on his face.
I must've looked like a tomato by the time I came up. Wheezing, I sent him a venomous look, that was suppose to be scary, but it must've not been for him because he friggin' laughed. Laughed at my pains!
"You've just rid me of my masculinity! Not cool, bro!" I glared at him. A venomous glare, all he did was chuckle. "Like you had any to begin with."He said, making his way to the door frame. I scowled at him. Andrew simply flashed me a grin, before walking out the door. "I gots homework. Me needs to do." He gave me a half-assed salute. I laughed and nodded, he sent another crooked grin my way before shutting the blue door behind him.
Making the picture frame next to it, rattle slightly. I sighed, falling backwards onto my bed. "Stupid Andrew." but if anyone were there in that moment, you would see that i most likely did not mean these words, considering a second later, a smile wormed its way onto my face. Normally, my blue-grey eyes are calculating, but never to Andrew, to him I guess I'll always be his little bro. And somehow that makes me happy.
Easy Life.
People have already started rumors that my mother'll be the best Mayor we've ever had. That makes me happy, yes. But, to be honest sometimes I wish mum wasn't the mayor or some government official. I know it's selfish, but sometimes I just wanna be normal. Not the kid with freakishly high grades, or the mayor's son. Normal.
To be honest Luke and I are only friends because technically society threw us together. The two social outcast, both desperately in need of a friend, find comfort in each other. I know that without this position, I'd most likely be dead, like Luke's brother, like my dad. Which is exactly why it's so selfish to wish for a different life. Because there are kids who'd kill for my life.
Easy Life.
I haven't even seen Luke in forever, he's been too busy with his family. He was forced to take up a part time job at one of the factories, with his brother gone, and father already dead before the rebellion, his family had no one left. so as the oldest, they all naturally turned to Luke. His mother pregnant with another child, she could'n't work, no matter how much it killed her. I had tried on numerous occasions, to offer Luke money, or anything, food maybe, but he refuses.
The war's changed us all, I haven't seen Luke in days. Normally we'd be in my room, crafting something together maybe. I sighed. My life still seemed better than most. I was a selfish, selfish Loyalist. And I was aware of it too, wishing for a different life when most would kill to have yours? Selfish.
Easy Life.
Easy Life.
Easy life.
Easy Life. Here's Christian. Cool, right? I think so. But unlike Maya, the power doesn't seem to have gone to his head.