I'm already awake when my mother decides to call for me.
"I was already up!"
I hear a weary sigh.
"The Middle East peace deal brokering again?"
"No, trying to figure out the mystery of the attraction of the ocean." I holler back. If somebody heard us now, it would sound sarcastic, our conversation. But the sad thing is, she's right.
I can hear her mutter as she shuffles past my door.
"Everybody else get's a normal daughter, and I get a freakazoid who likes astrophysics at three o'clock in the morning!" she stage whispers, cracking open my door as she peeks around.
"Okay, Mummy dearest, I will skip to the makeup counter at my earliest convenience." I wink at her, pretend primly.
I hear her laugh.
"Oh, and Clove, wake up Meghan and Fleur for me? I need to prepare the crumpets." she trails off, disappearing in a vision of quilted pink dressing gown. I look down at the mess of papers in front of me with a desperate "Urgh!" and move them apart with my hand, exposing the soft sea-green knitted blanket underneath. Drifting upwards, my gaze finds the small calendar pinned to my otherwise bare walls. Thursday, June the fourteenth . Another school year full of giggles and sunshine blonde hair, and its not nearly over. I hate life. I move sluggishly, my plaid pyjama sleeves falling down from my elbows, as I grasp the doorknob and trek down the hall, the cold wooden floor shocking my obviously carpet preferring feet. It's sanded, bare wood, a pale mesh of smoky boards, slightly wonky with the grain etched onto it's slats. The walls are cream on the hallway, and I find Meghan's door the first available to me, as always.
"Meg! Up, up, up, let's go!"
I crack open the wooden door revealing the shocking pink room inside. Small fairy lights light up the room in a glow, and it feels like I'm standing in a huge genie bottle filled with cheap candy-floss perfume and barbie goes california fashion doll. Meghan's seven (eight years younger than me) and hugely into princesses, and is currently behaving like one, snoring like a very indelicate royal warthog. In fact, the only indication I have my sister is still awake/alive and under the bed is the shock of red hair poking out from under her fluffy coverlet. I also see another shade of darker, more auburn hair and a little snout jutting out from the mess of red silky hearts, which indicates Fleur has had a nightmare and crawled into the first door she saw. Of course she did, it's her first day of proper school today. Fleur is five, and less dedicated to fuchsia and magenta. Her room is a calmer colour of willow, and is painted in flowers and curlicues, etc.
I creep over, and stand very silent. I can tell their both awake now, due to the fact their breathing has sped up and Fleur is giggling quietly.
"Wake up!" I jump on top of them and relentlessly tickle the back of their necks until they have squirmed their way into my arms and we are lying spread out in a panting, ungraceful heap on the duvet.
I smile at them and leave, heading to the bathroom to shower.
Soon, I'm dressed in my dark blue whitewash jeans, my cream long sleeved top and my red hoodie the colour of old blood, and I'm doing my hair in the mirror. Trying something new, I sweep my dark hair up in a bun the way the slutty girls at school wear it, fastening it in place with a Japanese cut bone-white clip. I make a fierce face at myself, scrunching up my nose, trying to look confident and someone you wouldn't want to mess with. I just look freckly and disgruntled. I push my thick-lensed black "nerd glasses" back up my snub nose, and pull my hair down into it's usual two plaits. I look skinny, short and pale in the mirror. I have skin the colour of milk and long raven-brown hair that shines in the dim light that's faintly emitting from the red lamp next to my bed. My eyes glow the colour of the autumn sea outside, bruise purple, scant green and deep jean blue, with hints of the fall gold leaves. I am the epitome of geekiness. And I like it that way.
Remembering to grab my copy of Wilma Tenderfoot and The Frozen Hearts, and my sea-green backpack, I kick my waydownstairs.
"Clove, sweetie, it's windy out there!" thanks, Captain Obvious Mom, I would not have guessed, even though we have the ceiling-to-floor windows in our pale cream and driftwood kitchen that are showing me the sea outside smashing against the seawall, and the tiny tree in our equally small garden swaying dangerously. Our cottage is small, seeing as it's just Mom, Meghan, Fleur and me, just a kitchen, bedrooms, a tiny living room and two bathrooms, all petite, decorated in warm, cosy, ocean-ready furniture. My bedhoneys tiny, has cream walls and a bed covered in hand-knit and factory-knit pillows and all my furniture is made frodriftwood. "Take a hat, hon." I look a lot like my mom. She's short, like me, and sheheads a snub nose and velvet brown eyes the colour of dying firewood. My mother is a stunner, petite and full-lipped, classy and sweet. I'm glad to see her like this, with no bruises and cut-lips, from someone I used to call father. I'm glad he was arrested. We're all stronger, and Mom divorced his sorry ass when she had the clear head to do so.
We both have the dark hair and pale skin, but while Fleur and Meghan have her brown eyes, I have the mesh of eye colour that matches their ginger hair. She hands me a skinny knit hat the cream colour of the walls. I swipe a piece of toast off the counter, kiss her cheek and pull a face at Fleur and Meghan sitting at the breakfast table with buttery crumpet pieces over their faces, and skitter out into the blustery wind outside. I trudge along the sea-battered grey pavement, covered with cracks from which sea grass bursts, from my house, number two Siren Song way, to number twelve, where I run up the steps and knock politely. The door swings open and Peeta hobbles down the wonky steps, staggering with one hand tugging a converse on and the other clutching a navy backpack, a piece of burnt toast in his mouth.
He's an idiot.
"Morning, Peeta."
He straightens up, shoe now firmly on, and shrugs his backpack on.
"Mpghmmmwhcoce." he mumbles, crunching up the bread. I give him one of my stares.
His ash blonde hair is rumpled and his paint-stripper blue eyes are shining. He's wearing a faded t-shirt with red tips at the neck and ends of his white sleeves, and faded blue jeans. Peeta's my best friend. We've known each other practically since birth. I trust him more than anyone I know. I don't when it was precisely I fell in love with him, but maybe it was since forever. He'd never feel like that though, he's a popular jock, has a gorgeous (if a complete bitch of a) girlfriend, so I settle for friends. And that's still brilliant. He gulps down the toast.
"Morning Clove!"
I smile.
"Excited?" he asks.
"Mmm. You?"
"Yeah, I guess. No sleep last night?"
"Nope."
"Middle East peace deal or the Mystery of the Sea?"
"Mystery of the Sea." I chuckle. He knows me so well.
"Worked it out yet?"
"I think humans have a primitive, deep need to protect ad take battle, a need for that thrill of danger. The sea is one of the most powerful things and I believe we want to prove we are stronger than it. I'm not to sure though. Need to read more of my statistics."
"Jeez, Clove. You amaze me sometimes, you know that?"
"You're only saying that because you want to copy the math homework will give us today."
"You know me so well. Even though you're a smarty pants, you still up for a game of chase before we get to school?"
Before I know it, he grabs my backpack and runs off, leaving me to chase him down the streets.
Well here we are. Seneca Crane memorial high. Having successfully secured my backpack, Peeta and I joke around until bitch of the century arrives.
"Honey! Hey, Peeta baby! WE'RE over here!" Glimmer jumps up and down, the sunlight catching her perfect figure, a couple of boys getting caught off to stare at her jiggling has golden hair, streaked with bronze and white-blonde, and it cascades in perfect straightness down her tan shoulders. Her jealous green eyes shine cruelly as they rake over me. She wears tiny denim hot-pants and neck-breaking stilettos and a aquamarine vest top with a cleavage-baring neckline that clings to her curves and cuts off to show her flat as a board stomach. She puts emphasis on the we're, letting him know I'm not an acceptable person to hang around with. Peeta flashes me an apologetic smile, and shifts off to the cheerleader and jock section. I give him a small wave that fades away to nothing as Glimmer proceeds to eat his face, my fingers crumpling to a well meaning whisper. She glares at me from his shoulder as she pulls away, and plops her round ass that all the boys admire next to her friends. There is nothing I desire more than to give her a good kick up said ass, because she's a hell of a bitch who has been out to get me for no reason. Cato, Thresh, Brutus and Finnick holler and cheer to him, all dressed in cherry red jock jackets, while Glimmer, Cashmere, Johanna and Enorbia settle and gossip on the stone steps. I roll my eyes and turn away, focusing on the girls waving at me from over on the packed grass.
"Hey, Jessica!" I collapse onto the daisy strewn grass next to the red-haired madam. She squeals, and wraps her lanky arms around me in a bone crushing hug. I laugh and hug her tall frame back. Apart from Peeta, Jess is my best friend, and is the only one who knows about my, well, thing for him. She also shares my hatred for Glimmer, who came up with the nickname Foxface for her, and has called her that since Elementary. I wave at Katniss, Rue, Delly, Gale and Marvel. We are the outcasts; the geeks. There's Katniss and Gale with their obsession with archery, Rue who's young, sweet and naive, Delly who's extremely pretty and curvier than the anorexic populars, and therefore more attractive, making her a threat and Marvel, who's just... Well Marvel is just Marvel.
School goes fast, and soon I'm sitting next to Jess at the lunch table, waiting for the rest. We got released early from Honours English Literature, partly because our teacher likes us, and partlybecause we're the onlu two in the class.
"Hey, Jess, Clove!" Peeta slides onto the well-worn titanium bench, slinging a casual arm around us both, an easy Peeta-like smile on his features. Just as I'm about to reply, Glimmer struts in, booty wiggling. She sashays over to us, perfect face pointed to the sky, as she surveys us all.
"Peeta, 're over here."
A crumpled piece of paper soars onto my desk in Homeroom, our last hour of school. Miss Trinket has her head buried in a magazine, and doesn't seem to notice.
Urgh, I don't get our Maths! How's Jess? Tell her I said hi. You coming over tonight?
I look up to see Peeta pretend-reading a book upside down, grinning but trying to conceal it from Glimmer who's laughing and twirling her hair round his finger, leaning onto the desk to give him a "TMI" view of her cleavage.
Make it my house? My Mom's got hot chocolate + all the fixings, and I have to babysit Fleur and Meghan. They're dying to see you! Jess is good.
I roll up the note and flick it across room when Glimmer starts up a scintillating conversation about new lipgloss with an extract of tracker jacker venom to make lips plumper with Johanna.
Peeta scans my note and nods. He winks and rolls his eyes, pointing to Cato, who's sitting next to him. The blonde boy's head is resting on the wooden back of his chair as he's slumped beneath the table, his mouth is open and his tongue is lolling out as he snores. Thresh is laughing and capturing the hilarious moment on his camera phone.
"Class!" Miss Trinket yells. We all flicker to attention and Cato looks around, dazed.
"It's time to pack away. Remember. The trip to England is on Saturday. You have to arrive at Mockingjay International Airport at five am in the morning. Remember your passports."
Shit! I forgot England! Two days!