Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.
A/n: I have just spent 8 hours writing about trusts of land having had one hour of sleep ... i hope this oneshot is more enjoyable than that...
43) Venia – Pen
It started with a drawing.
She had been sitting in class, concentrating, when the teacher had grabbed her piece of paper. The one she had been drawing a particularly lovely – if disproportionate and fabricated – depiction of the teacher on. He had held it up to demonstrate his disapproval of little girls who draw rude pictures of people and so shame her into seeing the error of her ways. The class, of course, thought it was brilliant and cheered her. School just works like that.
During recess, kids asked her to draw other things. What really impressed them was how much effort she put into her pictures. It certainly inspired her to continue.
The next day she had no paper but she was just as bored. So she started to draw on herself instead. Once again, the teacher was unimpressed (though somewhat pleased that she had stopped drawing him) and, once again, kids asked her to draw for them. Since she had no paper, she drew on them. She was sent home for graffiti-ing her fellow students. Venia felt a strange surge of pride. Not every kid gets a new rule invented, just because of them.
In the boredom of home, she began to experiment on herself – make-up, hair, nails and so on. Her parents were unhappy that she had ruined the work her stylist had put in. They were even more unhappy that most of what she had done did not come off easily (and probably the most unhappy about the fact that she had been sent home, but that is a mere side-issue in this story) and she went to school the next day with her new, faded creations. Once again, she became the most popular kid on the playground. Once again, she was sent home (for redesigning her fellow pupils. Probably more of a sub-clause of the original rule than a new one) where she proceeded to draw and redesign everything she could find. Her parents, understandably, were furious when they arrived home. Generally, parents like their walls to remain the same colour and pattern that they left them in that morning.
From then on, it became common knowledge that if you gave Venia a pen, she would draw on paper, tables, herself or her fellow students. If you didn't occupy her time, she would remake hair. If you gave her any kind of paint or make-up, she would attempt to alter the way you looked. This effectively meant she was sent home from school on a daily basis where she would pick up pens or other such items and carry on. Her parents gave up trying to stop her and simply indulged in some ink-proof covers for the house. They even started a brief, Capitol fashion.
At the age of eighteen, Venia left school. On impulse, she returned to the teacher who had first caught her drawing. She was somewhat more mature by now and less prone to randomly making nearby people into works of art, so she and the teacher got on amiably. It probably helped that time had faded her from his memory quite a bit so he only had a vague memory of her.
"So did I teach you anything?" the teacher asked after she had reminded him of who she was and he had realised that he had tried to repress the memory of her.
"Yes, sir."
"What, then?"
"You taught me that I'm most happy with a pen in my hand and a project to complete."
"Did I?" He sounded surprised. Venia had never shown the slightest interest in schoolwork. Even if he didn't remember much about her, that was certainly one thing that remained in his head.
"Oh, yes. In fact, I'm going to be a stylist. And it's thanks to you grabbing that picture off me."
"Picture?"
She smiled. "You probably don't remember. It's when I started getting sent home for drawing on people. It started with you taking a picture I drew away."
"Oh, right." He tried to think of something to say to this, and failed.
"So I just thought I'd come by and thank you, for inspiring me to do this." She smiled at him. "Without you, I'd never have realised how much I like to restyle."
"Um ... not a problem."
She grinned and handed him a pen.
"Just for you to remember me by, sir. Next time you see a kid drawing in class, give them that pen. They'll get better results."
He looked at the pen. "Right ... I'll remember that."
"OK. Bye!"
She left, smiling. Already, her hands were at her hair, twisting and curling. The most natural pose for her.