Karmen Kendall-Dostrict 7 (Done)

Hello! So, I suppose your the one Im meant to talk to? I've been told I need to give you as much information about myself as possible. Ah yes, I see you are the right person, so let's get started! My name is

Personally, I think my head is shaped very much like a triangle, with a flat head and a pointed chin. It comes nowhere near to beautiful, but I like it just the way it is. My cheekbones are small and thin, meaning I have to make my smile extra big if I want anyone to see it. Like my cheekbones, my lips are also thin, and I often have them pulled into a tight, straight line, especially when I consentrate or have to think really hard. My teeth are not the cleanest either. I wouldn't say they're dirty, but they're definitely not as white as some of the Capitolites I've seen. I've manger to keep them perfectly aligned over the here, despite the fact that they aren't snow white. My nose is, well, normal. Nothing very special about it. It's a good size, too, and not to long or short. 

My eyes are my best feature, I think. They are a chocolate brown color, like the rich icing I've seen on cakes in the bakery that I can never afford. My eyelashes aren't very long, either, which I'm glad for. I don't like long eyelashes: my eyebrows are very thin, not unlike my mouth, and have almost no arch at the center. If I make just the right expression, I can look almost intimidating. Or at least that what my father says, and I certainly hope he speaks truthfully. My hair is blond, like my mother, and very unlike everyone else in the District. Most people have black or brown hair, so my mother and I almost always stand out in a crowd. My hair is fairly long, and it reaches almost to the middle of my back. I like wearing a bandana in my hair, or at least a hair band. It keeps it out of my eyes, and then I can see things much better.

I'm supposed to talk a little but about what I wear, so I'll do that now. I hate skirts. Never liked them, and I'm sure I never will. They're tight and uncomfortable, and one can never move as easily with them as on could with shorts. I much prefer pants or shorts. And I don't like to get too fancy, either. My pants are often black, brown, or jeans. I usually wear colors that blind in, because I don't like to stand out. Unfortunately, my blond hair does that for me. I don't have a single bright colored shirt in all my clothes. I only have one hoodie and one sweater, but that's enough for me, and I love them both. The sweater was knit by my Granny, and it has pictures of reindeer and snowflakes and pine trees sewn into it. The hoodie was given to me by my father, on my eleventh birthday. He said it used to belong to my Aunt Jenn, and though it was a little big for me at the time, I've grown into it. It's a nice midnight blue color, like my sweater, with a lighter blue hem. I also have a favorite jacket. It's a nice black one, with a belt at the waist, exactly five black buttons, and a hem that stretches a few inches past my waist. It's gotten a little small for me, and the sleeves are just a bit short, but I still wear it.

I was never good at describing my personality, but I'll do my best. In general, I'm sarcastic, and very curious. Father is sure my curiosity will be the death of me. She might be right, because what I'm most curious about is the fence surrounding our district. Why is everyone so scared of it? Why does no one go near it? Why is it so dangerous to cross? Questions like these buzz through my head, pretty much twenty-four-seven. I'm always asking questions, and sometimes I get pretty annoying. But I when I come up with a question, I have to know the answer, so I just keep asking until I get one. 

Let me think of a few negotiate things about myself:..to start, and as I said before, some people get annoyed by how many questions I ask. When I'm thinking hard or Im nervous or side, I have the habit of biting my lip or my nails. I've nibbled on my nails for such a long time, they're nothing but stubs now. Also, I'm not afraid to speak my mind. In some cases, that comes in handy, but in others, it can get me into a lot of trouble. If I disagreed with a Peacekeeper, I'd likely say so, and then I'd have my tongue cut out and my vocal chords snipped. Oh, I would hate for that to happen. I probably should have mentioned this bit in the appearance section, but I'm a very good runner and climber. I really enjoy getting a good book, climbing a tree and reading it to myself. I always read aloud. I seem to be able to picture things better when I read aloud. That brings me to another point: I'm obsessed with reading and writing.

My room is a library. It's in a large room in the attic, and I can look out over the whole forest of District 7 and watch it come to life every morning. My bed is in a small corner, with a window and end table on one side, and my dresser on the other. All the walls, except for my little corner and the door, are covered in book shelves that reach to the ceiling. The floor is littered with neat stacks of books three or four feet high, and my end table is covered in bookmarks. Old books, new books, thin books, fat books, I have them all. When I was six, my father gave me a little green box with fancy, black letters painted on the lid: Karmen's Book Box. It was lined with green cloth, and he said I could put my favorite books in it. I still have hidden away under my bed, with the best books tucked neatly inside.

Well, let's see...I was born August 23, almost 14 years ago. My mother's name was Miriam, and my father was Forest. I loved his name, right from the moment I knew what a forest was. His eyes were green, too, and it reminded me of the trees I liked to climb. He had black hair, and a kind smile with small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. My mother had blond hair, like me, only with sea blue eyes. If anyone could be spotted in a crowd, it was her. Or at least, that's what father tells me about her. I don't remember much about mother, only the way her eyes twinkled when she smiled. Father says she was obsessed with books, just the way I am. For three years, my life was completely normal.

Then one day, my father says that mother left the house and never came back. She took nothing with her, only a large hat and her gray shawl. I don't believe the story. Whenever he tells it, he avoids my gaze and licks his lips. That's a sure sign that he's lying. But he doesn't like to talk about it, either, so I don't ask him anymore questions. It's very unlike my nature to not ask a question, but for those little moments, I'm able to bite my tongue. I've always been able to tell how father is feeling, no matter what he's talking about. His face is like an open book, telling all how it feels. Moving on...

I don't remember how well father put up with not having mother in the house, but now, he shows no sign of missing her. Except when he talks about how she 'dissappeared'. Life was normal again, until we ran out of money. Father was the only one who worked, and I didn't really know how little he earned, until my ninth birthday, when I received no presents. I wasn't upset about it. It only made me realize that we needed money. So, the next day, I went to work with father. They gave me simple jobs, like gathering firewood, running messages back and forth, and keeping stray cats out of the lumberyards. Over the years, the jobs got more complicated and more dangerous. Now, I have to climb trees to cut of the thinner branches, where no one else can go because they're to heavy. It's my job to ride a log down the river every now and then, just to make sure they're not jammed, and when they are, I'm the one who has to fix the problem. I actually enjoy my jobs in the forest and the lumberyards, so long as I get time to read my books.

Codeword: oDair
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