I look down at my clip board, and then back up at the first years, then back down to my clip board. One single name is highlighted for me to mentor for the next four years, others may have three or four, but I only have one.

There was a lot of controversy about letting me mentor this year, after all, I am only sixteen. The first years are made up of thirteen or fourteen year olds, the one I have been given is fourteen. However, being the owners son, is bound to have its perks, me being a mentor is one of them.

Let me just explain how this academy works. There are three other training academies in district two. One for 5-8, another for 9-12, and then two for 13-18. This academy is the best, better than the one in district one. Here, the students have the option of boarding here, this one is private and you have to go through several... auditions, if you will, to get into it. There are one hundred places, twenty for each year. When you go through the admission stages, you get given a number. That number will determine what mentor, room and privileges you get, along with your rank and class. The lower your number, the better you are. The rooms don't go in numerical order and move each year. One room that was number twenty-seven last year could now be number eighty-nine, it depends on the scores the first years get and whether they are boarding and where their mentors' room is.

That's another reason some people didn't want me being a mentor, especially if I got a girl. The mentors and their students have adjoining rooms; everyone here thinks I sleep around- which I could, if I wanted. But I don't want to.

I look back up to the first years, scanning the faces that I will get to know over the next few weeks, then take a breath "is Clove here?" I'm not sure why I phrase it as a question, when I know she is. She steps out the side of the swell of teenagers.

Short. The first thought that runs through my mind, she is just so short. I was expecting her to be tall, blonde and beautiful. She's beautiful; of course, most of the girls who come here are, but she's not blonde and certainly not tall. She walks towards me, holding herself well. I decide to note that down, slightly unsure as to why, but take note anyway. "I'm Cato." I state and she simply nods. "You're boarding here, good." She managed to get 17/20 in her audition scores, which is one of the highest scores for a first year, so she has room number 12. "Follow me," I speak clearly, finding it grating when someone mumbles. Whilst briskly walking down the hallways and running up set of stairs I explain to her "as you know, you received a seventeen as your audition score, so you have room number twelve, which will be joined to mine by a door. Don't think you're getting special treatment; every student's room is joined to their mentors. I have five rules, memorise and comply with them. Rule number one, don't be late, late is sloppy and you will not be sloppy. Rule number two, always win, none of this 'it's the taking part that counts' you will win. Rule number three, learn your way around this place by the end of the week. And number four, pay attention to everything I say." I stop outside her room, a light blue door with 'twelve' in looping letter painted in black. She nods, answering my question and I shake my head "I said I have five rules, yet only listed four. Rule number four, don't mess up, if you do, it's on me, and I don't mess up-so neither do you. This will be your room four the next four years, unless you improve or dramatically decline and get a new number. Don't do that, because that will mean I have to move, and I like my room, ok?" she nods again and I sigh, opening the door two her room. She has pretty good furnishings for a first year, but that's what happens when you get room twelve. A double bed, dresser, full length mirror, closet, desk and chair. Then the en-suite which will have the toilet, bath, shower and sink. Yet, in mine there is a bigger window, a grand piano, a Jacuzzi bath and a walk-in wardrobe. Sometimes I wonder where they get the space from, then I realise that I don't care.