The sun was only just starting to creep over the rocky mountains of District Two, slicing the darkness of the night. The grounds surrounding the training academy were still and silent, apart from a few small clouds of dust that were occassionally blown sideways by gentle whistles of wind.
There was no morning birdsong in District Two. No trees to mask the blinding sunlight from your eyes – only several variations of cacti and tiny desert flowers. Everywhere you turned was golden, rough or sandy. Everywhere you turned, you were exposed. The quarries, cliffs and ravines created an uneasy atmosphere, like the feeling you get when you take a wrong turn, or stray too far from where you're meant to be. You feel lost, worried, and want nothing more than to run away in the opposite direction.
That's probably what made District Two so terrifying to the inhabitants of the other districts. Travelling between the districts was forbidden, but footage of the giant, crumbling mountains that stood burning beneath the almighty ball of fire in the sky was broadcast into the homes of Panem every year, when the final few Tributes of the Hunger Games remained alive, and Capitol officials toured the nation to interview their families.
The interviewers almost always travelled to District Two, because you could bet any amount of money that at least one of their Tributes would still be alive. That was because Tributes from Districts One and Two were known as "Career Tributes" - children who had spent their entire lives training and preparing for the Games.
From the tender age of five, these children were enlisted into unlawful institutions (which the Capitol turned a blind eye to, since Districts One and Two were the wealthiest districts in Panem and could afford to bribe them). Here, they learned the most valuable of survival skills – how to make a fire, how to find shelter, how to build traps – and were taught the most brutal of fighting techniques, using every weapon imaginable – knives, arrows, swords and maces.
While most of the districts saw being Reaped to take part in the Games as a death sentence, those from Districts One and Two treated it as an honour. While the other Tributes were crying over the fact that they were probably going to die, the Careers were focused on making their families and districts proud. This is what they had been preparing for, after all – to fight for their life in The Hunger Games. If students at the training academy were not Reaped by their final year, they would volunteer to be a Tribute, when they were at their fastest, strongest, and most skilled.
The glory of becoming a Victor! Of having your name go down in history as one of only a few who had conquered death in The Hunger Games. This was the mantra that was drilled into Clove and her fellow students five days a week at school, and the same one was then re-enforced by her parents and older brother at weekends, when she came home.
Clove's older brother, Keon, had just graduated from the training academy before summer. He was eighteen, and was going to volunteer to take part in this year's Games. His family, friends and ex-coaches were all behind him. He had all the makings of a good Career Tribute – cunning, sly and smart. However, when it came to the Reaping, another boy jumped in and beat him into volunteering. So he lost his chance to fight in the Games. He now worked as a bricklayer. The pay wasn't impressive.
But if Clove was Reaped, or volunteered, and won, neither she nor her family would ever have to work again. The money, the fame, the fortune! A brand new house in the Victor's Village, living amongst District Two's most respected members of the community... becoming a mentor and guiding future Career Tributes to success...
All of this circulated in Clove's head as she lay stiffly on her thin mattress, looking up at the underside of the bunk bed above her. Today was a big day. Clove was twelve now, and therefore her class had progressed to the Upper School. This was where things got serious. Because she was twelve, Clove was now eligible to have her name entered into the Reaping, which meant she had a chance of becoming a Tribute in a matter of months. And, truth be told, Clove was nervous.
She wasn't scared, of course – Careers weren't scared of anything. But Keon and his friends had told her that starting Upper School meant more instensive training, more rigorous treatment from the new coaches, and Clove was anxious about what Upper School would entail. It was obvious that everything was going to escalate – now that her class were eligible to be Reaped, they had to do everything they could, while they could, to ensure their survival, should they find themselves entering the arena.
Clove's thoughts were interrupted by the heavy door to the dormitory being thrown open and the piercing sound of a whistle.
"Time to get up, you lazy so-and-so's. I want you all dressed, hair tied back and in the courtyard in ten minutes. Any latecomers can spend their first evening in Upper School polishing my shoes while doing push-ups," barked an unfriendly female voice.
Clove knew immediately who it was – Lennon, the 'guidance teacher' or 'personal tutor' to the girls in her year. She had visited them during their last week of Lower School and introduced herself. A woman in her mid-thirties, with broad shoulders and a lean physique. Her dark hair remained in a ponytail, her face hard with no make-up on. Yet she had made an impression on Clove that day she introduced herself. Tough on the surface, yes, but eager for her students to achieve, and willing to help them. Firm, but fair.
There was a scramble of sound and movement, as the girls in the dormitory stirred and bedsheets were hurriedly kicked away. Clove got out of her lower bunk and stood up, about to reach for her clean Upper School uniform – a black t-shirt with the academy's logo on the back, khaki trousers and black lace-up boots – when all of a sudden she was pushed to the ground from above, buried under the weight of the girl from the upper bunk.
Clove clenched her jaw and forcefully shoved the girl off her. They both stood up and looked at each other, Clove's face stern with anger, the other girl's smugly satisfied. The other girl was called Dara. She was the largest girl in the class, and was rather ugly with an uneven light brown fringe and unflattering features. She and Clove had been enemies since their second-last year in Lower School, after an incident in their knife-throwing class. Everyone was queuing up, waiting for their turn to throw an assortment of knives at a range of dummies. Somehow, Dara had managed to smuggle a knife into her pocket. She was standing behind Clove in the queue. She took the knife out of her pocket, held it out in front of her, and tapped Clove's shoulder. Instinctively, Clove turned around, only to be met with a sharp, silver blade which Dara then dragged right across Clove's cheek. There were gasps from the rest of the class as the scar on Clove's face began to bleed. She held her hand up to cover it, and began to make her way out of the room, when Dara clutched her upper arm, pulled her in close, and whispered, "Watch your back, Fuhrman," so quietly that only Clove could hear.
Clove wondered why Dara had struck her with the knife as she went in search for the school Healer. Perhaps it was because Clove's aim in their knife-throwing class had always been so much more accurate than Dara's, and she was jealous. She knew that Dara's father had won the 43rd Hunger Games a while back, and perhaps Dara felt threatened that she wouldn't be able to follow in his footsteps and live up to her family's expectations.
Whatever the reason, Clove had made a point of staying well clear of Dara from then on. That was until she learned that they would be sharing a bunk in Upper School.
Dara swaggered away without a word, and Clove rushed to get changed into her uniform. Staying on Lennon's good side was more important to her than challenging Dara, and at least two of her ten minutes had already been wasted.
Before long, Clove and the other girls in the dormitory dressed in their new Upper School uniforms, were jogging out into the courtyard. Lennon was waiting for them, with a whistle around her neck and her eyes on her wristwatch. Standing beside her was a burly, muscley man with beady eyes, folded arms and a short, prickly haircut. The boys in Clove's year starting entering the courtyard from the opposite side, and she realised that he must be the boys' guidance coach.
"Good morning, class," Lennon greeted them with a no-nonsene tone.
"Good morning, ma'am," they replied simultaneously.
"I'm Lennon, and this is Thaddeus. Welcome to your first day in Upper School. Before breakfast, we're going to complete a five mile run through the marked trail on the grounds. Get used to it, because this will be your new morning routine for the next seven years."
Several members of the class exchanged concerned looks.
"After breakfast you'll be issued with your timetables, assigned to a clan and given information about your elective subjects," said Thaddeus. "At the end of the week we'll expect you to choose a martial art and an extreme sport to specialise in."
The class remained silent, hanging on to every word.
"Now, listen – you're not kids anymore," Thaddeus continued. "You are young adults, and two of you could be Reaped next year. It's our job to make sure you're ready for the Games, to teach you how to survive, how to forge alliances – and how to kill."
"Make no mistake – this will be hard," said Lennon. "It's supposed to be. Careers aren't born – they're made. Do you all understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," the class repeated.
"Then let's go. The first five back get bonus points for their clans. The last five will be taught a lesson on why it costs to be slow in The Hunger Games."
Clove gulped, but then shook it off and took a deep breath. At the sound of Lennon's whistle, the class hurtled towards the start of the trail, desperate not to be one of the unlucky five.
Clove blocked out everything around her, zoning in on the task ahead. As she stepped onto the dusty trail, her legs sped up immediately. She overtook Dara, and then some of the stronger boys. She weaved her way in and out of those in front, until she had a clear view of the rocky track in front of her. Her pace was steady, her breathing even, her eyes fixated. She could do this. She would do this. She refused to humiliate herself on her first day of Upper School. She wanted to prove to Lennon and her classmates that she had what it took to be a Career. It was then that she realised she was in first place.