Deklan Spencer // District 12

Name: Deklan Spencer
Age: 16
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 12



Appearance:

Hmm. What do I look like? That’s easier for another person to describe than myself. I, personally, don’t base relationships off of looks, but if I must. People could consider me good looking. I have dark brown hair, which tumbles down to my eyes. Some people call it black, but I beg to differ. My eyes are a crisp blue, with green around the irises. Sometimes, if the light hits it just right, they look hazel. That gets the girls going.

I’m a startling 6 feet tall. Most people will ask me what my occupation is, and then I have to explain to them how I’m not an adult, just really tall, and I’m still in school. The fact that I’m from District Twelve and don’t get much food doesn’t help the fact that I look more and more like a twig every day. I look at myself in the mirror sometimes and think, “It’s a miracle the wind hasn’t blown me over.”

Personality:

Oh, great, you want me to describe my personality, too? Okay, if you really want to hear about how I am. I’m nothing special. I’m generally very quiet. I never answer questions in class. I don’t speak unless spoken to. I’m too afraid of saying the wrong thing, and getting into a conflict. I mean, who wants conflict?

I love reading. I have an obsession with it. What’s not to love about it? Every book takes you on a different adventure, to a new place. It’s like a field trip every day. When I come home from school, I pick up a book and flip to the first page, no matter how many times I’ve read it. It doesn’t even matter what book it is, it could be a book about how to fertilize your dirt, and I’d still enjoy every chapter, every page. I can never know enough things. I have a constant drive to find out everything about anything. This can get me into some serious trouble at times.

What else? What else…. Oh! That’s right. I’m not a very nice person at times. I can get into a very crabby mood, and that’s not good. I throw tantrums. And I’m not talking about a little baby crying over not getting a new toy. Oh no. I’m talking full on throwing things around, breaking furniture, and screaming. Not a pretty sight. You name it, I’ve probably done it in at least one of my tantrums. I can’t tell you how many scars are on my hands from smashing glass. It costs my family money we don’t have, and I regret everything afterwards.

History:

You could say I’m pretty lucky, family wise, at least. I have a wonderful father who helps me with everything, from school to life. He even talks to me about girls, as much as I hate to admit it. I can’t imagine going through life without him. I’m his pride and joy. His model student. His everything. And when I throw my tantrums, I know how much it pains him to see his perfect son go through that.

My little sister, Abby, is my favorite thing in the world. My dad loves her and all, yes, but you can always tell I’m the favorite. And I feel bad for my sister. Because she deserves more than that. She is a wonderful person, and I’m really scared right now, because she just turned twelve. And that means she’s eligible for the Games. And I know that I would take her spot in a heartbeat, but I don’t want her to have to watch me go through that. Or anybody, for that matter. The Games are something that nobody should have to watch. Ever.

You’re probably wondering why I haven’t said a word about my mother. Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t know much about her. She died in some freak accident when I was seven. Still to this day, nobody has told me how she died. I guess no one wants me to have another tantrum or something. Or to go running home telling Abby. Like I would. But, I guess some things are better left unknown. Which goes against my whole reason for existing.

Codeword: <img src="http://i41.tinypic.com/16h2ibt.png">
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