Clato: The Things We Can't Forget

Chapter 1- Clove

The first time I met Cato Hadley I almost killed him.

Maybe not my smartest idea.

I was only 10 after all. It was my first day at the finest, most exclusive Hunger Games training center in all of District 2. Only the richest or most skillful kids could get in. Most people just called it the Academy. Everyone knew what it was, and every kid in all of District 2 wished they could go there. I had grown up listening to the kids who couldn't afford to go there talk in hushed, jealous tones about the grandeur of the place. My birthday, May 14th, had been the day before. I had been waiting all my life to start here, and no one could ruin it for me. Not even Cato and his little jerk squad.

"Clove. Remember everything that we've practiced and don't forget to-" I had cut my father, off that morning.

"Dad, I know. We've been through this a million times. I can do it," I had said confidently, munching on an apple this morning.

He sighed and rubbed his face. "I know, I know. You can handle it. You do have your knives though, right?"

I grinned. "All 6 of them."

"All right then. You better get going if you want to be early."

"Right. Bye dad."

"Good luck."

He came towards me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to hug me. The idea of a father hugging his daughter, feeling proud and happy at her accomplishments made me smile. But all he did was give me a pat on the shoulder, then he headed upstairs. My father wasn't the "fatherly-love" type of guy. I was raised mostly by our housekeeper, Aidia. All my father and I did was train or talk about training. Nothing more, nothing less. We're used to it by now.

Well, mostly.

Aidia gave me a quick hug and said, "Knock em' dead sweetheart!" I smiled and nodded, to excited to respond, then headed out the door.

I walked through the brisk morning air, out of Victor's Village's gate and onto the main road, and felt excitement and anticipation running through me. I was starting at the Academy! Anyone who was anyone trained here, and I was determined to be the best of them all. I knew that some kids lived there and used it like a boarding school, so I was lucky I lived close enough to stay at home. I saw all the tall, strong students hanging around outside in front of the towering, white complex and headed forward eagerly, walking faster and faster. I walked past some older girls and heard giggles as I went by. Whispers started and short glances were shot back and forth between the students and me faster than a bullet.

I was a tiny, skinny thing then. Sure, I'm still small now but at 10 I looked more like a 7-year-old. With my yellow tank top and black leggings and 2 long braids hanging down my back, I looked about as ferocious as a white bunny. Everyone noticed, too. It's not often that a new 10-year-old starts at the Academy and already I had gathered a lot of unwanted attention.

I started to feel very self-conscious but pushed it down. I remembered my dad's words: Don't show emotion of any kind. You are a killer, a ruthless killer, and you need to prove it to them.

As I walked through the courtyard there were lots of smirks and comments like:

"Ooh the pretty little princess has come to play!"

"Better watch out, she might throw her tiara at you!"

Oh, I'll be throwing a lot more than tiaras I thought as I scowled at everyone and continued to make my way forward. Before I could reach the front doors, however, I was grabbed by a tall 11 or 12-year-old boy and pulled forcefully over to the other wall where 2 other boys were waiting.