Emmer Maize
14 years old
District 9
2 siblings, Barley Maize and Miller Maize
Raised by Father, Spelt Maize and Mother, Farro Maize
Job: Bread maker. Works in bakeries, subjected to hot ovens, scarred hands and arms from the heat.
My name is Emmer Maize. I am 14 years old. Panem, in my mind at least, is surely not the greatest nation that has ever been. I’ll bet that there have been superior societies before it; I could almost say that I’m sure there was. There has to be a better way of keeping us in line than killing our children. I want to change something, but what can I do? I’m only one girl who has nothing different about her than the next District 9 inhabitant. My shyness and quietness help me blend in seamlessly with the crowd, even my hands, scarred from many years of working the ovens, don’t differ from the norm. I take tesserae for the sake of my two younger brothers and overworked parents. In my opinion, it is wrong that the grain that my parents harvested is returned for the safety of their children; it makes me sick. I’m apprehensive about the reaping because I am the only one to care for my brothers through the daylight hours. Since they extended adult work hours, my parents have had no time to educate my brothers, Miller and Barley, as they did I. The nearest school is a two-hour walk from here and therefore; I am in charge of their education.
14 years old
District 9
2 siblings, Barley Maize and Miller Maize
Raised by Father, Spelt Maize and Mother, Farro Maize
Job: Bread maker. Works in bakeries, subjected to hot ovens, scarred hands and arms from the heat.
My name is Emmer Maize. I am 14 years old. Panem, in my mind at least, is surely not the greatest nation that has ever been. I’ll bet that there have been superior societies before it; I could almost say that I’m sure there was. There has to be a better way of keeping us in line than killing our children. I want to change something, but what can I do? I’m only one girl who has nothing different about her than the next District 9 inhabitant. My shyness and quietness help me blend in seamlessly with the crowd, even my hands, scarred from many years of working the ovens, don’t differ from the norm. I take tesserae for the sake of my two younger brothers and overworked parents. In my opinion, it is wrong that the grain that my parents harvested is returned for the safety of their children; it makes me sick. I’m apprehensive about the reaping because I am the only one to care for my brothers through the daylight hours. Since they extended adult work hours, my parents have had no time to educate my brothers, Miller and Barley, as they did I. The nearest school is a two-hour walk from here and therefore; I am in charge of their education.
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