Aleksandra- SongOfThunder

Waylon- Winters Writing

Aleksandra Fortran

15

~Look, I know what you want anod the answer is no, it will always be no, and nothing you can say will persuade me my answer is not no~

"Psychopath," I flinch and turn my head to see who said that. A 16 year old stands in front of me. A small age difference but I am short and look younger. More like 13 than 15.

The reason he calls me that slur is because my way of processing grief is not the usual way. Instead of screaming and crying when my parents died, killed by the thing they loved, I focused on my work.

People seemed to take this for me having no emotion, thus the nickname 'Psychopath' was born. I honestly prefer Aleksa.

Maybe I should be used to the nickname by now but I still hate it. The kids in a community home should understand that there are different ways of processing grief but they seem not to.

I walk back into my room and lean over my cramped desk. My screwdrivers are lined up neatly at the moment, but later at least two at them will be on the floor and I will likely have another hole in my wall.

To be fair, the walls are thin, I feel that brick would be better but most are made of plaster and too easy to break.

True to my word, 3 hours later, another hole is there. This time up high and to the left. The screwdriver is still in it but I don't need it at the moment so I will retrieve it later.

All my clothes are the same so I don't bother looking as I change into a pair of slacks and a plaid shirt. I slip on my sneakers and look around for my bracelet.

What people never look at when they call me names is my wrist. If they did they'd see my bracelet. It's made up of pieces of computer. Not just any computer though.

My mother's old computer.

When I was younger she promised I'd have it one day. When she died I got it. I tried to love it but it was slow and it lagged. So I took it apart and used the pieces to make a bracelet.

I walk downstairs to see lunch just finishing. The rule is if you don't come down you don't get lunch but I go into the kitchen and grab an apple anyway. There is a mad rush to get ready but I ignore it, walking down the path and to the square.

Waylon Wilders

13

~No, chill, it'll be fine. Wait, WHAT? That pun was terrible! How dare you?!~

"Can you do a flip Way?" Tink, my friend asks me.

"Of course I can!" I scoff, holding my hat down so it doesn't fall off and demonstrating. "Flips are easy!"

What my friend doesn't know is how long it took for me to be able to make it look effortless. I've been practicing things like this for 8 years.

No one in 3 are professional gymnasts, everyone is a programmer or something boring like that. I had to rely completely on a book, and let me tell you, as an ADHD five year old, reading 600 pages was not fun.

But I guess it's worth it. I'm more flexible than most and it's a cool party trick.

"What about a cartwheel?" Another friend, Gunth suggests and I almost roll my eyes. I shove my hat in my pocket and demonstrate. They all look amazed and I laugh at their wide eyes.

"It's almost like you've never seen someone upside down," I drawl, and it's their turn to roll their eyes. Maybe it was a bad joke, but let's see them make a good one with all their blood rushing to their head.

"You guys free tomorrow?" I ask and most of them nod their heads. "Well providing you don't get reaped."

It comes out of my mouth before I can think and most of them look surprised. Of course, they're used to my sense of humour but I'm never normally that dark.

I guess the reaping brings out the worst in me.

I don't bother apologising and we all just move past it. The air is still awkward when I say goodbye.

I jog home, just making it in time for lunch. We sit around our table and eat sandwiches. I have cheese but Maylene, the most annoying older sister in the world, has ham.

I shove the last of the bread in my mouth and run upstairs so I can get to the shower before Maylene. She always takes years.

I towel my hair dry and like normal it falls on my forehead, just short of my eyes. I look around in my room before deciding on my stripy blue t shirt and a pair of shorts. I pick out my favourite hat, a fedora with a feather in it.

I guess people could call my collection weird, my sister certainly does, but when it gets cold, trilby laughing out of the other side of her face.

And that concludes my third and final interest:

Gymnastics.

Hats.

And puns.

I walk out of my bedroom and hug my parents goodbye. I walk out of the house with Maylene, and we begin the walk to the square.

Aleksandra Fortran

I stand in the square with my back straight and my hands clenched, looking down. The noise is annoying me. People never know when to be loud and when to shut up.

Our escort arrives 4 and a half minutes late and talks in a cheery voice. That's all I can say about her. If I still categorised people like I did when I was younger, she'd go in boring hands down.

"Aleksandra Fortran."

For a second I feel terror, but I know if I am to survive I can't show weakness. I suppress it and eventually I just feel irritated. I'm not sure at what, just irritated all over.

I walk up to the stage, my face blank.

Sadly, the boy doesn't have any luck doing that. He seems to be smiling but you can see the tremor. I shake hands with him and we get dismissed like the good little sheep we are.

Waylon Wilders

I tap my foot, wanting everything to be over. Our escort is late, it's already been 5 minutes since two o clock.

Finally, she gets onto the stage and starts talking in a cheery voice. Too cheery.

"Well, let's see who the lucky girl representing the district will be."

The name isn't one I recognise thank god. I feel sorry for her family.

"Waylon Wilders!"

I swallow, feeling sick. I know I have to seem confident. I put a smile on my face and walk up with my back straight and my head held high.

Aleksandra Fortran

I don't know who I was expecting, but I find myself hoping that someone cared enough to see me before I went. No one comes.

I shouldn't feel upset, that's irrational.

But I do.

Waylon Wilders

"Waylon! What were you thinking? Do you realise how cocky you looked?" My sister explodes at me. She's my last visitor and apparently angry with me.

"You're 13 for gods sake! Why would you do that?" I swallow not knowing what to say.

"You need to get rid of that image Way. I don't want to see you in a box."

I hug her. Normally, we aren't ones for affection but I don't want to ever let go.

Favourite?

Who will die early and who will thrive?

Which title has has been your favourite so far?

Fun fact: France was still executing people by guillotine when Star Wars: A New Hope hit theatres.