Growing up in district 2 wasn't bad for young clove. Her mother home schooled her for the first few years of her life. This had its benefits as Bree used to be a teacher at the school. Clove got a good education however soon her father began to notice her loneliness. She didn't have any friends. It was hard for a nine year old. So Grauth decided to put her in the community school. Just in time to as Bree was required to go back to work after.
On her first day of school clove woke up early. She got into the clothes her parents had put out for her. A simple T-shirt and brown skirt. With white socks they kept falling down and brown shoes that didn't stay done up. Her mother tucked in the laces so she didn't trip. Then she went to fetch her old school satchel for her. Grauth had decided to take her after lots of begging and pleading. He couldn't say no to her.
When they stopped outside the school clove gripped on to her father. "Don't make me go in." Clove eyes pleaded. It was daunting for a little girl.
"It'll be fine you'll make a lot of friends" Grauth wanted to take her home right now, but he couldn't. He had to be at the control tower in the mountains in half an hour. There would be no one there. Clove's bottom lip began to peek out. "I'm sorry baby. But I have to go" Grauth loosened clove's grip and walked away. Leaving clove to the wolfs they called children.
When Clove arrived she scanned the hallways. Artwork all painted by fingers. The thought of it made her sick. She was very grown up and these children obviously weren't. Every painting was another revelation of immaturity. She hated it! That's when she arrived in front of the door. Room 7. She dragged her satchel on the floor behind her. Then slightly pushed open the door. The smell hit her like a slap in the face. Paints and chalk. The scent made her sneeze pulling the attention towards herself as over a dozen eyes looked at her. "Welcome you must be Cloe" The bubbly teacher looked like someone who had just jumped out of the capitol. Morphling addict thought clove. She couldn't even say her name.
"No my names clove it says it right there on you page" Clove indicated to the paper on the desk. Written clearly in a perfect calligraphy. C-L-O-V-E, Clove. The teacher face turned to shock or was it just morphling kicking in. "I'm sorry dear"...Urgh 'dear' like she was some old lady. She completely ignored the woman and walked to the empty seat at the back. Children said hi to her but she just blanked them. Scowling even more as she went on. When she got to her seat she placed her satchel on the chair. She knew people were staring so she refused to sit down until they looked away. Finally the teacher began to speak again. The eyes turned back to the board and ignored the girl standing in the corner. Clove wanted to ignore them too but she couldn't. So she watched out the window. That's when she saw him. A man who must have been in his twenties or less, throwing something into homemade targets. They looked like knifes. They were knifes! Clove was fascinated by this. She grabbed her satchel and fled from the room. The teacher followed soon after. "Wait there young lady" But clove carried on so the teacher took a quick detour to the principal's office. Clove continued running through the halls. Passed the classrooms. The immature paintings. Then as if on cue when she arrived in front of the entrance the voice beamed. "Could the young lady who carelessly ran through the halls return to her class!" Cloves just laughed and opened the door to leave the building.
She made her way round the back of the school outside her classroom. There she saw the window she was previously sat by and surely enough there he was. Still throwing the blades. Separating them was a metal fence. Not like the one separating the districts. No that was electric. Her father warned her about them. One touch and she'd be frazzled. This one was just metal. She threw her satchel over it and it landed with a thud on the other side. Then she placed her foot on the fence and pulled herself over. Her dress rubbing against the rust. When she was over her hands slipped and she landed on the floor. She rubbed her dress and just stood there. Gathered her satchel. Then made her way to the man with the knifes.
He was a master of this. Every time he threw it landed near if not on the centre of the target. He picked up a new blade however this time clove decided to speak just before the knife left his hand. He missed then cursed the air before turning to see her giggling. "It's not nice to spy on people" He spoke. His voice was deep and welcoming with a sinister twist to it.
"What are you doing?" the young girl pleaded with him.
"Throwing knifes. Here..." he handed her the blade. A curved one with a black handle. She twizzled it in her hands and caught her reflection. All the running had made her curls sag. The climbing had caused her socks to fall. Her new outfit covered in rust and mud. She focused on the blade. Like a plane ready to bomb she locked her eyes on her target. About five metres away. A circular plate just sitting still. The blade left her hand with a swoosh. Cutting through the air then smacking into the centre of the target. That's when the smile spread across her face.
"bullseye!" She picked up a handful of knifes and held them tight. All in a second they flew through the air. Smacking in to targets. Every one until she directed one at the bird sitting on the telephone wire. It killed the bird and cut the telephone wire. Suddenly a row of houses lights went out. Including the school. She couldn't help but laugh.
She was a natural! That's what the man said, who introduced himself as Zander Oaks. Of course he had more training than her. Clove soon learned that he lived in a small cottage near where she currently was. It was standing alone. At least a few metres separating that and the next house. He had complete privacy. Zander also had a girlfriend. They had been together for 5 years when he was 19 and she was 18 she was selected as tribute. Of course he was too old to volunteer to protect her so he could do nothing but watch. She died in the arena. However a few weeks later he found out that she was carrying his child. That's when he decided to open his own business in his home. To train kids for the arena. This wasn't a great plan as most kids went to the professionals. The victors. Trainers from the capitol. People like him were considered backstreet trainers. They had a very bad rep.
Zander invited clove into his house. It was a standard house as far as looks went. Simple but sweet. A small bed in the corner with a door which lead to a bathroom. Bookshelf. Chest of drawers. Basic living equipment. Suddenly he made his way to the bookshelf and picked out a book that read. History of Panem. That's when clove heard a click of a lock and he pulled open the bookshelf like a door. Inside that door she was amazed by what she saw. Rows and rows of weapons. Knifes, spears, bows and arrows. Standard hunger games weaponry. "You like it?" his voice. Oh how it made her smile
"Love it!" She smirked. Her father didn't even let her use knifes and here this man was with a full armoury offering her test runs on them all. He left the room and left clove to the weapons. She ran her fingers along the edges. She felt so at home. Like she belonged here in this room with all those weapons. That's when Zander returned with spare clothes.
"I noticed your clothes are muddy. These were my girlfriends she was quite small but they might be a little big."
He was right the t-shirt draped down so she tucked it in. She tucked the trousers into the boots which Zander had stuffed with balls of wool. She looked like a solider ready for war. But she felt comfortable. She said goodbye to Zander and left. Now how would she explain this to her dad?
AN: Okay so I just finished this. I'm very proud. However I also just realised there is another fanfic called A Field Of Cloves... Promise I didn't steal the title just thought of clovers and that. Also Just letting you know Zander isn't a bad person so if you're thinking some kind of perv...NO!
