Together ~ A Clove and Cato story ~

Chapter one (Clove POV): First Day of School

                  My name is Clove Kentwell, I'm eleven years old, and I live in District One. Well, I lived in District One. My mother's career as a peacekeeper displaced us to District Two a few days ago. And now, I have to start over. A whole new school, with no one I know. I never really had any friends back at my old school. I guess that's because I've never been overly affectionate. Some may even affirm that antisocial is an understatement. But every face I looked at every day was somewhat familiar to me, and I guess that provided me with some form of comfort. Today is my first day in the colossal university for kids ages eleven through eighteen. In Districts One and Two, you attend Primary School from ages 5 to 10. Then, when you turn eleven, you attend The Academy. Training and education at The Academy are divided into two levels. The first one being intermediate, which ranges from ages eleven to twelve. The second one is advanced, being for ages thirteen through eighteen. On the first day of the school year in the advanced level, you are assessed on various skills and how well you can handle multiple different weapons. This establishes your training score. A training score is a ranking that grades you on each skill on a scale from one to ten. The higher you rank, the more arduous your training is.

                   I trudge through the streets of District Two, trying to navigate the unfamiliar path to school. I secretly was hoping my father would walk me to school, but he has always trained me to act independently and work individually. I feel extremely uncomfortable in my school clothes, a plaid skirt, a white blouse, and black slip-on shoes. Since I normally display fitted clothes that allow me to move in any way necessary, and these clothes are the opposite of movable, I can't help but hate my crisp uniform. My head pounds as I turn the corner and head in the direction of the towering building that is soon to be my school. I loosen my hair that my mother tightly plaited before she embarked for work this morning and amble up the stairs, my shoes making slight clicking noises on the cement with each step. I know I'm late, and I'll probably be reprimanded, but I don't care. I walk through the hallways, hesitating in front of a door with the number 132 carved by the handle. This is the number that I have been reciting in my head ever since my father told me that if I am to forget it, he will spank me when I get home. Besides, if I forget it, I will look ill-advised. I compose myself and take a somewhat shaky breath before opening the door, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. Everyone halts to peer at me.

                      "Oh..." The teacher conveys, coming to push me further into the room. "Class, this is Clove Kentwell. Her family was transferred here from District One."

                       She proffers me a spot at a table next to a girl with mousy features and hair chopped off at her chin who wears an expression of hostility as she looks me up and down, her eyes disapproving. As I settle into the hardwood chair, I remember noticing a sandy-haired boy with his gaze fixed upon me in the hallway. Not with the peculiar yet slightly bitter glares that almost all the other children are giving me right now, but an inquisitive look. I shake my head, making a face at my ridiculous thoughts. Why in all of Panem am I thinking of some strange boy that I just barely caught a glimpse of? Because of his vivid blue eyes? Or disheveled yet somewhat surprisingly enticing blonde locks?

                        'No, Clove,' I fold my hands on my mahogany desk, shoving all thoughts out of my mind. 'Don't think about him. You don't even know him.'

                        I train my eyes on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom and tug on the collar of my blouse, trying to focus on the information ahead of me and failing. I sigh. Today is going to be a long day.