One day people might stop asking her that, if the Capitol ever lets her grow up that is. As it is Clementine has an expectation that with every new person she meets here, unless they're another kid, that question about her age will come. She knows well what people are probably thinking about her when they ask it too.

"I'm 11. I should be 12 soon, though." As if that makes it much better. It's only 12 technically as well, she hasn't grown or aged physically at all since everytime she dies the Capitol brings her back looking exactly the same as she did the first time. Clementine knows this because everytime she wakes up the bite wound from the dog on her left arm is freshly scarred all over again.