Ezra Devereaux // D1 - FIN

^ Appearance ^
As a child, it is easy to forget who you are supposed to be. For me, it may have been much easier. I can look at a picture if my father and know I am supposed to be him someday. The nice hair, the amazing smile, the firm handshake, the expensive suits, the charming eyes - I need to be that. And as soon as I realized that as a younger boy, I tried. I dressed up in my dad's suit and tie and dress shoes and declared that I would be just like dad. I could do it, I wasn't afraid. My mother had always hoped I would turn out that way. She wanted me to be able to run the family business and become the perfect gentleman. But dressing up like a man is only part of the equation to perfection. I didn't realize that when I was younger, running about wildly with my sisters, ruining every outfit I wore, throwing tantrums. It wasn't until later that I understood what I was doing wrong, what was upsetting my parents so much. So I changed.

I take a shower every morning and every night making sure to shave away every bit of unwanted hair off my face. Maybe someday I could grow a professional looking beard, but as of right now, it is only light hair that makes me look childish if I leave it. I try to keep my face as clean as I can, but considering I am a teenager, things are bound to pop up. I brush and floss my teeth, making sure that my smile is something that could speak a thousand words if it needed to. My father always says a nice smile could get you out of any situation. (Especially one involving girls.) I keep my hair brushed, and despite some of my mother's protests, a bit longer than most men do. I can't stand my hair when it is clipped near to my scalp - it makes me look like some kind of bug. So I have kept it longer, swishing over my forehead and down the back of my neck. It can be a lot to handle in the morning when I have to gel down the parts that stick out at awkward angles but I still love it. The blonde looks bleached but it isn't. My blue eyes look like they could be fake but they aren't. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy - my mother had adored me when I was a baby. And it turned out that most every Devereaux child looked this way. Teachers could always guess who I was.

I glance a bruise on my chest and try to ignore it. I always try to ignore it. Partly for my mother's sake, but also partly so that I don't think about why I choose to endure career training. Occasionally I end up with a bruised cheek or a swollen lip and have to endure how unprofessional it looks when I help dad at work or attend a teacher's conference. Sometimes I am so bruised and beaten after a hard training that I can't figure out if I have anymore white skin because all of it has turned purple. But I have to be strong because I know that training could save my life. I cover up the bruises with crisp and fresh business jackets and pick one of the many ties I own from my closet and fix it multiple times in the mirror, making sure I get it right. (But my mother always fixes it again when I get downstairs.) I wear a different watch most everyday that promotes my father's jewelry business and wear the most expensive cologne that my parents can find. And although on some days I can't wait to come home and throw on a T-shirt and sweatpants, I do love dressing like my father. And my mother always looks so proud as she watches me leave and my sisters and Kyte leave for school in the morning.

I hope she is proud of me.

^ Personality ^
Being raised by such prestigious parents, I have learned how to act in front of others. Calm, composed, professional. They say first impressions really are important and that being who you are shouldn't always come first. It is important to appear strong and smart in front of people I meet at school or in training, or on the street. Because I am not just an ordinary child. I am the eldest child of the Devereaux family. I am the son of Dechlan Devereaux and I am representing not only myself, but him, his business, and my family as well. And I fully understand my responsibilities. My sisters on the other hand don't quite understand yet. Or maybe they do, but I just can't see it because all I see of them is at home where they choose to worry about petty things like clothing, or boys, or giggle about other things I don't understand. It seems I am a bit out of place among them. Giggly, bubbly, always speaking their mind, always talking about clothes, or wanting our mother's attention - those are most of my sisters, bless every single one of them. The only one who really is like me is Corran. I like to keep quiet. I can come off as cold to some people, especially my family, but it's fairly easy to fix with other people. If I just offer my hand and smile most people find my very grown up. It is simple for me to speak analytically and professionally.

It isn't that I don't like talking to people or anything, but I just can never find anything worth saying. I can say hello, I can mention my father's business, but when it comes to my family I can't find anything to say. Maybe I should say I love them or hug them every once in awhile or say something that could make an impression on them, but I can't ever find the words. Occasionally I can't even find a smile for them no matter how badly I wish I could give it to them. I think this may be the only thing I can't do that my father can. Love. It is so complicated to talk about my feelings - I just don't understand how. Words can't explain how I feel, nor can any form of physical contact, so how can I show them I care? All I can think to do is be a role model. Be the business man. Be the kindest I could possibly be. Be the best student I can manage. Be sure to fight as hard as I can during training. It isn't enough, but I don't know what else to do - so I suppose it will have to suffice.

Generally, I don't lose my temper. Or get excited. Or really feel like I need to react to anything. But I can remember a few years ago when I lost it. I totally lost it. Everything I had ever been and all I tried to accomplish was almost a total waste. I overheard a few guys in the hallway talking about my family. And then they I heard my sister's name paired with the words "stuck- up bitch" and as calmly as I could manage I walked over to the group pushed myself into the circle of them, face to face with the guy who said it and swung my fist right at his face. My career training kicked in and I didn't stop when he crumpled to the ground. The guys around him all had to tackle me to the ground to stop me. I got a pretty thorough beating of my own after school that day, but I didn't mind. I knew the guy wasn't going to tell anybody what I had done, (too embarrassing to admit he got beat up by the rich kid) and I looked like I might have just endured a brutal training instead of getting jumped for beating somebody's face in. If looking like a chopped up vegetable for a week doesn't prove I love my family then I don't know what does.

I regret that day though. I am smarter than that. I knew better than to act out just because I heard something I didn't like. I am a straight A student, a good kid, dedicated to understanding how to run a business - punching people in the face isn't what I like to do. Career training is the biggest drag in my life. I would much rather sit in my room and read a book or go to work with my father but he is quite insistent that I endure it. It could save my life after all. The part of Career training I enjoy most is not the fighting but the learning. Plants to eat, strategies to consider, reading guides - that is what I love about it. And although I do make sure to exceed excellence in all aspects of training, I like to think that I could outsmart anyone I meet rather than beating them with brute force.

I like to follow the rules and be the proper man in public, but when no one is looking, I can't help but jump up and down on my bed or play air guitar in my underwear or eat a barbecue without worrying how much falls down my chin and into my lap. Every teenage guy I know has done these things and when they ask me about what I do all I can say is that I work with my father and hope to one day run our family business. Girls seem to be a popular subject with other guys my age, but I swear they must not have any sisters if they think girls are a piece of cake. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a normal teenage boy - but only sometimes - because I know that I am a Devereaux and proud.

^ History ^
It isn't easy to live a privileged life. Obviously it is easier than living in the streets or starving to death in the cold, but there are so many obligations that a child has to attend to. And with parents like mine, who only wish and want the best for the family, I have no time to play around. As the eldest of the Devereaux children, it is my job to be the leader. I have to set an example - the right example. With a father of such high status, I can't be the one to tarnish that status in anyway. And even as a young child, I knew that was what was expected of me. My mother raised to be a gentleman. And my father raised me to a businessman. Overall, I feel both require immense amounts of responsibility. And a huge promise to my parents. I want them to understand that I care, that I respect them and love them for the way they raised me. My teachers praise me, my peers look up to me, and I feel like my whole family counts on me. I can't afford to take a break - I have to remain strong. For my parents, my peers, my teachers, my trainers, my sisters, and my brother. If I ever were to fall apart, what would I be to them?

I remember when I was younger, how easy it was to forget that I had to look perfect. The first time my mother ever put a suit on me I went and rolled around in a mud puddle outside. I hadn't meant to upset her so much, and knew I shouldn't ever do something like that again, and have never ruined nice clothes since. Or disobeyed my mother. Rules are rules and are meant to be followed. My sister's seem to have a very different opinion on that, but I don't pester them about it. My mother scolds them enough as it is - I know they don't need me telling them how to behave too. And then there is Kyte. I remember when I got to go to the hospital to meet him for the first time. I was so excited. I had a little brother and I was going to get to be his big brother. When mother let me hold him, I promised him I would be the best big brother ever. I remember teaching him how eat with a spoon and take care of business in the bathroom and I remember stealing cookies for him. When mother finally caught me in the act she scolded me and told me that stealing was improper and wrong. Not to mention it was unhealthy to eat so many cookies. And just like that, my cookie stealing days were over. (She never told me it was against the rules to take the candy bars from the cupboards though.)

But the harsh realities of the world eventually catch up to you. And when I was twelve, I was dressed up in the nicest clothing in all of District 1, and walked down to the square. My mother had kept telling me that it was alright, that I would be fine, that I wouldn't get picked. But I hadn't asked what we were doing. I knew she was worried, even though she told me not to, because she kept hugging me and fussing over my crooked bow tie. One slip of paper was all I had in the giant glass bowl. I was safe. And so far, I was safe. Every single Reaping so far, I was safe. I watched as two children from District 1 walked up to the stage from the age of twelve, to the age of eighteen, and I have known none of the kids. Out of the 16 children I have watched walk to the stage, only one has come home to District 1 alive. And when I was 14 and 15, I wished that my 19th birthday would hurry up already because that was the day I could stop worrying. What I didn't realize then was that I would have to wait until Kyte was 19 to stop worrying. After every Reaping we would come home filled with relief that none of us was gone. If any of us were every gone ... I just don't know what would happen.

And that is why the elder Devereauxs train. And keep a secret. Our father thought it would be a good idea to submit us to the violence of career training in order to give a better chance if the unthinkable ever did happen. And for me, it started when I was young. And it was just a part of life for me. It kept me safe, it taught me things, and it was a little fun to watch my sisters completely fail try to be the best at everything. However, when I started coming home fatigued and bruised, forbid the younger ones to participate. And I was totally okay with it at the time. I hated the brutality of it all and really didn't want my younger siblings to endure it. But then Corran started sneaking off with me and Addison and Hollyn. She begged that we not tell and keep it a secret and insisted that it was for the greater good of everyone. She needed to be able to protect herself if she ever got Reaped. And suddenly, we all had a secret. Something that needed to be kept from our mother. And it only kept us closer together - and I surely didn't mind that. And although I have to shamefully send Kyte away when he tries to follow me to training, I know that I could never let Corran's secret be known.

We will forever be the children of the prestigious District One family: the Devereaux's.