A/N: Just a heads up... this will be a Clato fic, both friendship and romantically, hence the title!
Written from Clove's perspective.

I remember the first time that I saw him.

I was 12 and he was 14.

It was on my first day at a Career Training Facility, or CTF as we call them here.

In District 2, every child is sent to a primary school from the age of 5 up until they turn 12. Through those years we were observed by aged Careers, mainly those deemed "too old" to work with the fresh blood of our district. These "teachers" would challenge us, pushing us harder and harder in an attempt to weed out those too weak to become Careers. When we turned 12, one lucky student per age bracket would get the privilege to attend a CTF where they would be trained by surviving Victors and the previous Careers who never got the honor of representing our district in the Games.

Looking back, I guess we weren't so lucky.

The day before my 12th birthday, I was pulled out of my classes and my parents were called to the school to meet with my teachers. I was excited and eager and nervous to seal my fate. I just knew that I would be picked to be a Career. They had to pick me. There was no one more cunning or lethal in my age bracket. My parents and I were lead in a small room with a table, at which sat three adults who I had seen around school, but never actually talked to. My parents and I took the three seats opposite them, my father on my right and my mother on my left.

"It seems to us that Clove possesses a certain set of... skills that we believe could be beneficial to our new pack of Careers" a scrawny bird-like man with a tight jaw and beady black eyes said to my parents. My parents beamed, proud that their only child was being spoken of so highly by these important officials.

"We have been observing her talents, particularly her gift with knives" a corpulent man with a thick mustache said, rubbing his left eye sleepily.

"I gave her her first blade when she was just 4 years old" my father beamed proudly as he patted me on the back. "It was a beautiful piece, just 3 inches, but as deadly as poison in the right hands."

I smirked and placed a hand in my pocket where that particular knife resided at that exact moment. Though the blade was dull and the handle chipped, I never left home without it.

"We've always been proud of her-" my mother began.

"There is the matter of her size though," a lady with a rat nose and dark brown hair pulled into a tight bun harshly interrupted. "She is smaller than most 12 year olds, and our fear is that some of our other, bigger Careers may write her off before they see what she has to offer."

At this, I sat up haughtily and narrowed my eyes.

"My size?" I retorted. "Puh-lease. If anyone thinks I'm not a threat, I'll slit their throats before they have the chance to beg for mercy."

"Really? You will" the lady with the rat nose replied skeptically. She stood up and began pacing, her hands folded behind her back.

"So tell me... You're in the Games. It's cold, you're starving. There is no water nearby and you have no way to start a fire."

She turned to me and drilled her eyes into mine.

I glared back at her and narrowed my eyes.

"However, there is a small group nearby. Two boys and one girl. They have a fire and supplies... but they're also big and armed. The girl has a bow and the other two have makeshift spears constructed of long sticks with knives fixed to the ends. What do you do?"

I stood up, and slammed my hands down on the table emphatically, spitting out harsh responses.

"Do I have any weapons?" I said as I glared at her.

"No."

"Nothing? That's unrealistic."

"That's The Hunger Games, honey. You will find yourself without anything unless you form alliances with the other Careers" she snarled at me.

I thought for maybe half a second, but years of practice made me quick on my feet.

"Then easy. First, I would pick up a hand full of rocks and throw several in the bushes opposite where I'm hiding. Then, when all three of them turn to see what's over there, I would throw another rock at the head of the larger of the two boys and take his so-called spear. From there I would dislodge the knife from the end, and immediately throw it at the other spear holder. Finally, and for the grand finale, I would take one of my new knives and do this-"

I clenched my hand around the dull knife in my pocket-I wished I had something sharper, but I wasn't expecting an audience-and whipped around, throwing it at the wall directly behind me. I didn't even have to check to make sure it stuck. I knew.

"-to her head. She'd be dead before she even loaded her stupid arrow. And I'd have a knife to spare."

Beady Eyes, Mustache, and Rat Face all stared at me incredulously.

I abruptly sat back down, my lip curling upward into a devious smirk.

"So when do I start my training?"

A Note From The Author:
What did you guys think? Reviews, comments, etc would be appreciated.
Also, I really hope that I'm doing Clove justice.
She's my favorite character, and I want to accurately portray her personality/total badassness.