Small and Ill Favored
Born 14th in a line of 18 children, Feydra was born small and ill favored. Now at 13 years old she was still small and ill favored. People joke about the red headed step child, but Feydra, though she was not red-headed, nor a step child felt as though she were treated as such. The only time she got anything new was on her birthday. Otherwise all of her things were hand me downs. Clothes, shoes, backpacks, books, even her mattress was a lumpy old thing that her older brothers and sisters had used. She hadn't grown in years. She was still the same height at 13 as she was when she was 11. 4' 9".
"Feydra!" the call came from downstairs. "Ma wants your help with dinner."
She rolled her eyes. "Of course she does," she thought. "Anytime I sneak a moment to myself, someone else needs something. It's like I'm freaking Cinderella!"
She pushed up from her bed closing the journal she'd been writing in, lifted the covers to find the rip in the mattress where she hid her journal. Nothing was sacred in this house.
She stomped down the stairs trying to show her frustration with each step, but in this house full of noise and business, stomping was a regular occurrence and didn't denote anything out of the ordinary.
As soon as Feydra entered the kitchen, and without even looking up from what she was doing, her mother said, "Need ya to slice the olives."
Feydra sighed, grabbed the cutting board, knife, three cans of olives and the can opener and settled herself at the long farm style kitchen table. It was tasks like this that contributed to her feeling of invisibility. Seven kids still at home, two parents, and a grandmother that lived with them meant that feeding 10 people consumed a lot of their time. That, and laundry. Feydra wondered why her parents had that many kids when they didn't seem to enjoy them at all. There were no family game nights, no trips to the park, no camping in the summer, everyday was the same; survival. It was not the kind of life she imagined for herself. She belonged, but not in a way that mattered.
Slicing the olives was the most menial of tasks in her mind. She knew of families that bought the pre-sliced olives, and determined that's what she would do someday! Someday, when she left home and was on her own and could do things the way she wanted.
"I'm so tired of being unseen. When I leave home I'm going to do something big. Something so big that no one can ever ignore me again. But what? What would that be? I'm not good at anything." she thought.
Little did she know at that time that she was good at things. First, she was good at slicing olives. Second, she was good at flying under the radar, third, she was good at holding a grudge and lastly, she was good at science. She would go on to do big things. Big things that a small and ill favored girl would do such as buy sliced olives and learn how to make bombs. She didn't care what they were used for, she just liked making them. She sold them under a fake identity, to people buying under a fake identity, but there was no mistaking one of her bombs when she saw on them on the news. She was very careful to not sell the same kind of bomb twice. She was careful to not sell to the same buyer more than once. And even though the world would never know her name, Feydra knew that she had done something big and was not ignored.
"Feydra!" the call came from downstairs. "Ma wants your help with dinner."
She rolled her eyes. "Of course she does," she thought. "Anytime I sneak a moment to myself, someone else needs something. It's like I'm freaking Cinderella!"
She pushed up from her bed closing the journal she'd been writing in, lifted the covers to find the rip in the mattress where she hid her journal. Nothing was sacred in this house.
She stomped down the stairs trying to show her frustration with each step, but in this house full of noise and business, stomping was a regular occurrence and didn't denote anything out of the ordinary.
As soon as Feydra entered the kitchen, and without even looking up from what she was doing, her mother said, "Need ya to slice the olives."
Feydra sighed, grabbed the cutting board, knife, three cans of olives and the can opener and settled herself at the long farm style kitchen table. It was tasks like this that contributed to her feeling of invisibility. Seven kids still at home, two parents, and a grandmother that lived with them meant that feeding 10 people consumed a lot of their time. That, and laundry. Feydra wondered why her parents had that many kids when they didn't seem to enjoy them at all. There were no family game nights, no trips to the park, no camping in the summer, everyday was the same; survival. It was not the kind of life she imagined for herself. She belonged, but not in a way that mattered.
Slicing the olives was the most menial of tasks in her mind. She knew of families that bought the pre-sliced olives, and determined that's what she would do someday! Someday, when she left home and was on her own and could do things the way she wanted.
"I'm so tired of being unseen. When I leave home I'm going to do something big. Something so big that no one can ever ignore me again. But what? What would that be? I'm not good at anything." she thought.
Little did she know at that time that she was good at things. First, she was good at slicing olives. Second, she was good at flying under the radar, third, she was good at holding a grudge and lastly, she was good at science. She would go on to do big things. Big things that a small and ill favored girl would do such as buy sliced olives and learn how to make bombs. She didn't care what they were used for, she just liked making them. She sold them under a fake identity, to people buying under a fake identity, but there was no mistaking one of her bombs when she saw on them on the news. She was very careful to not sell the same kind of bomb twice. She was careful to not sell to the same buyer more than once. And even though the world would never know her name, Feydra knew that she had done something big and was not ignored.
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