District 12: Clayton Whelan

    I was born before the sun rose. My father had not yet set out to the mines, and I think both of my parents were grateful that I popped out before he left so he could have a few hours with his first born son. Only son, they knew, because it had taken so long for me to come around. My mother was thirty-five at my birth, which in District 12 gives reason for concern, but she was fine. Everything was fine and my parents were glad to have a child at all. 

    My mother died right after I started school. My father told me she was sick, but I knew it was the food. My father had worked the mines for over two decades and never made more than enough to feed two. He told me I should work hard in school, so I could do better than him, and I regret never pushing myself. When he died a year later, I blamed it on the dust in the air, but everyone else knew it was the knife at his wrist.
    
    Community home was the first thought, but my father had a friend willing to take me in. At seven, I was already a fairly quiet boy and I suppose he thought I would be easy to manipulate. That was true. I slept on the floor of the foyer and took the smallest cut of bread every morning. I did his work at home to make the family extra money and never received my share. If I spoke back, he beat it down, and it didn't take long for me to stop fighting back. Life was easier when I laid low.

    I'm quiet. I'm not shy, I just know when to keep my mouth shut, which is best 99% of the time when you live with the Larsons. I nod my head and let people talk as long as they like -- it doesn't matter to me whether they say to much, just so long as it's not me. Sometimes it comes across like I won't defend myself, which is generally true, but the real reason is usually because I can't be bothered to make an effort. Talking normally gets me in trouble, so I keep my mouth shut. My father did the same thing, and I suppose I might be influenced by his personality a bit. I miss him. 
    I believe in what's fair, and I believe in being kind to everyone. That confuses Mrs. Larson sometimes, but I find pleasure in confusing her, so I will never stop. Kill them with kindness, right? Although my kindness usually comes in the form of sharing or letting things go, rather than doing anything specifically for someone else. I work for myself because otherwise there would be too much work to be done. It's a nice distraction, and I do my best thinking when I'm working, but it means I'm almost always tired. 
    Tired. I'm always tired. If I'm not working I'm sleeping, and that's the truth. I'll always try to be honest with you if you ask. It's not all that hard to be honest. Everyone around me is always lying, so it's a good kick to them for me to insist on the truth...