Later that night
Donevin rolls out of bed and throws on his shoes and coat, sliding down the tree by his window. He runs as fast as his little legs can carry him and knocks on the door of the school teacher, who lets him in. He tells her about what his dad said, and she gives him some school books and wishes him luck. He runs back home, the precious cargo under his arm.
He pores over those books for the next few years, teaching himself history, math, English, Latin, everything he'd need.
The years slowly go by, and each birthday adds a new art of training to his belt.
AGE SIX
At age six, Donevin is trained heavily in the art of hand-to-hand combat, learning the crazy skills needed to disarm and knock out an opponent in seconds. By his seventh birthday, he can hold down an adversary three times his size, and get them to the ground in five seconds flat. The tough regime begins before the sun, with a protein filled breakfast, and weightlifting until his father wakes up. Then it's technique and history of hand-to-hand training until lunch. Donevin is stuffed with a balanced lunch, and then practices with various trainers until dinner. For dinner he eats a simple meal with a piece of fruit and a hunk of meat, and then goes to bed. At night, he sneaks a candle upstairs and studies stolen schoolbooks until he falls asleep
AGE SEVEN
When he turns seven, Donevin's rigorous schedule has knife throwing added in. Now, after the same breakfast as before, he throws knives until eight, and then he does the weights, now 50 pounds. At nine thirty, he studies the history of knives, and knife-making until a tiny lunch at noon. Then, it's four straight hours of knife practice followed by four hours of hand-to-hand. There's dinner and bed. Well, "bed". Every night, Donevin reads for hours, sleeping only about three hours total.
AGE EIGHT
At eight, there's now swordplay and fencing. He wakes up, throws down a breakfast and reviews hand-to-hand and knife throwing until ten, when he gets a regular history lesson. There is no lunch break, and he goes right into a technique class until 3. At three, he fences with trainers until nine at night. There's a quick breakfast, and then he's off to bed.
AGE NINE
Finally, Donevin gets to try out and apply to the Peacekeeping Cor….
"You ready?" Paul leans down into his son's face. "Because this is the biggest moment of your life, Donevin. Screw it up and you will be sorry." Donevin nods curtly as he has been taught.
"Yes, sir." He swallows and walks into the looming Justice building with a hundred other kids, mostly older. He walks into the audition room, filled with weapons and mats.
"You have a presentation? Let's see it." A judge in full peacekeeper uniform talks across the room to Donevin, who immediately begins by doing a jump flip over to a rack of knives.
He grabs one, conspicuously sliding it into his boot, so they can't see. He throws them into a line of dummies, 'killing' each with one hit. He slides over to the hand-to-hand station and destroys people five times his size. The judges are now watching him more intently as he throws a few more knives perfectly, and climbs the wall, flipping off the top and landing on his feet. He takes a small bow and walks to their table, sitting on the floor in front of them.
"Nicely done."
Donevin nods, "Thank you, sir."
"We have some questions for you, Donevin."
"Yes, sir."
"First of all, will you be able to donate your life completely to the capitol."
"Of course, sir."
"Kill even your own family if the president commands it?"
Donevin smiles slightly to himself, he'd love to kill his papa. And his mother is already gone. "Easily, sir." The judges look at him quizzically for a moment, but do not comment. They've seen that before, though it isn't common.
"If faced with a choice between life and death, and living would mean betraying the capitol, and dying would be dying for the capitol, what would you choose?"
"Dying for the country I love." The judges scribble something down and look back up.
"If, per se, the president asked you to come into his office, and he instructed you to bring him the bodies of thirty dead children, what would you do?"
"Bring him the bodies, sir."
"Without hesitation?"
"Without hesitating to follow orders."
"Very well. You may go." Donevin walks out of the room, feeling proud. His father greets him, gauging his face, but does not congratulate him. He simply leads Donevin back home.
Two weeks later, Donevin gets a letter inviting him to join the Peacekeeper's Acadamy for the Gifted Children. He is admitted with nothing but the clothes on his back.
The moment he steps in the door, he is yanked away. They strip him; give him a Private's uniform and buzz cut his hair. Then, he rejoins the other 9 year old boys in a small and uncomfortable bunk. There's a lot of boys cramped in there, but there's really no choice.
He's standoffish and most people stay away from him, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't care.
AGE TEN
Since he's been at the Academy, he's stopped sleeping at nights. Memories of his mother have started haunting his dreams, and he stops letting them get to him by avoiding sleep. Nowadays, his day starts at 5:30, with a hearty breakfast. There's strength training and weaponry in the morning, a big lunch and peacekeeper training in the afternoon. All of his teachers love him, little Donnie is polite, smart and hardworking.
AGE ELEVEN
Donevin has graduated from Private to a Corporal. He is the youngest Corporal in all of history at the Academy, but it is obvious how good he is and how well he does. Many people disapproved of it, and hated working under Donevin, but they have no choice, and really is the best of the best. His small platoon trains hard, and when it comes to mock battles, they win every single time.
AGE TWELVE, THIRTEEN, AND FOURTEEN
Life hasn't changed much for Donevin. Legally, he's too young to go any higher in the military, Corporal is already a stretch. Being a peacekeeper-in-training, he doesn't get entered for the games, so he's very lucky. His platoon works very well together, and they beat everything that gets thrown at them. They even get to go into the field, and win with no losses.
AGE FIFTEEN
Donevin has some trouble…
"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Donevin's voice rings out across the silent lunchroom. All eyes are on him.
"She's my girlfriend, I can do whatever the hell I want with her!" an angry boy is clutching a shaking girl to him. He leans over and kisses her, hard, while the girl struggles to get out of his reach. Donevin lunges forward, shoving the boy off her.
" I said, 'DON'T TOUCH HER!'" He kicks the boy on the ground, hard, over and over until he turns unconscious. Donevin stomps on his fingers, hearing the sickening crack. The boy is bloody and not breathing. Donevin turns on his heel to find the girl terrified and shaking. "Go." is all he says to her, and she tears away, bursting into tears.
A doctor looks at the boy grimly, and his body is sent home to his family in a cardboard box.
Donevin gets called to the Sargent Major's office. "Donevin. I am so very disappointed in you." He doesn't speak. "You have done so well. But now, my top Corporal is on probation, on the verge of being kicked out. If you weren't such a strong officer, you'd be gone by now."
Donevin nods slightly. He is terrified of being sent back home, terrified of his father. "Be glad you're not. Now go." Donevin salutes and walks out of the room, directly into another Corporal.
"You." the other Corporal spits in his face. Donevin tries to ignore him, because he knows that anything could get him the boot, and this guy wants to take down him for some reason.
He shoves Donevin into a wall. "I spoke to you! You speak back!" Donevin still doesn't reply, just gets up and starts to walk away. The guy then slumps to the ground, yelling in false pain. "MY EYE! Oh, Donevin punched me!" Donevin turns around to see the Sargent Major come out to see the boy on the ground.
"DONEVIN! You are outta here! Get in my office, stat!" Donevin hurries to his office, fighting back tears. He glances at the boy on the ground, who smirks at Donevin.
The Sargent Major sends Donevin home, where his father beats him so hard he doesn't wake up for three days.
His name has been entered into the reapings 8 times, twice for each year he wasn't there.
AGE SIXTEEN AND SEVENTEEN
Donevin is beaten senseless each year he refuses to volunteer. He is in bed for days and days after each one, but refuses to regret it. He still trains, but not as vigorously. He still doesn't sleep, he sits and reads by candlelight, or meditates.
AGE EIGHTEEN
Donevin follows his dad to the tesserae office in confusion. Why would they need a tesserae? And why didn't he ask Donevin?
"I'd like to get some tesserae for my son. He's very sick see, and we need a food."
"Name?"
"Donevin Ambrose."
"How many?"
"How many can I get?"
"100 tesserae."
"That's how many."
"Thank you sir, the food will be delivered later on in the year."
"Thanks." Donevin gasps in surprise. His dad was taking tesserae out on him…to get him to go to the games! That's awful!
But Donevin can't or won't approach his father about it, and Reaping day is suddenly upon them…
A/N
I have a question, and a score to settle with ma English teacher. Does anyone here find it confusing or annoying that I write in present tense instead of past? Would it make a difference if I did it in past?
For those of ya'll who aren't already a part of my RP, you're welcome to join, the link is on my profile!
Also, others on there are writing companion stories, so here ya go, you'll be meeting many of these people later on in the story!
Arella (Claire-DaThug) .net/s/7808740/1/How_Far_Can_A_Pixie_Fly Yes. I know this one has a similar title to mine. You will know why in a few more chapters, when Donevin grows up a lil' bit.
Zoey (Zoey-DeThug) .net/s/7809997/1/Cracked_Whips_and_Broken_Smiles
Spring (Kgirl235) .net/s/7808492/1/The_Summer_is_Upon_Us
Xavier (VictoireDallsanta) .net/s/7805863/1/The_One_That_Almost_Got_Away
Flora (Fleur Isabelle Delacour) .net/s/7815407/1/Blossoms_Eventually_Die
-MS