First ever fanfiction if you have any reviews please feel free to comment.
-Thank You! :)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in the Hunger Games trilogy that honor goes too Suzanne Collins.
Clove's POV
People think that everyone from District 2 is in the lap of luxury. One of the richest of the 12 kingdoms. With knights more, blood thirsty and eager to show their loyalty than any other. They imagine a kingdom with pounds upon pounds of food, riches everywhere. They think of honorable kings deserving of rewards. Content citizens grateful for all that they have. The other kingdoms crave for our life, when really, we crave for theirs. We build up strong defensive walls to protect what we have, letting their imagination run wild. Always thinking of more. But there's less.
One side the "deserving." Rewarded with marble, respect, and the fear from others. Staying Uptown, away from the people deemed "underserving." Given the cold shoulder, less food, and little dignity. They call it the Shambles. Its ruins, the undeveloped part of District 2 the part that hasn't gotten a chance to prove we are deserving. The silent reminder to everyone who lives here that we are just like District 3,5,6,7 all the way to the lowest of them all, 12.
We are second-class citizens at the very most, making the other Districts 3rd class citizens. With even scarcer food there, they have it rough. You can see it in the games, dusty skin, sharp cheek bones, sunken in eyes, a boney frame. Constantly scrounging for the smallest crumbs. The retired peacekeepers will talk about them. Although you can only catch them at bars. Most are old and haggard, always itching for the next bottle.
On a lucky day you can catch them reminiscing on old memories. Telling stories from when they were stationed across Panem. In District 1, the glittering chandeliers made of millions of diamonds the size of pumpkin seeds, glistening in pure rays of warming sun light. District 7, the fresh smell of pine trees being cut down. The clean, sharp scent entering your nostrils. Getting lost in the miles and miles of endless trees. District 11, the sweet taste of the apples grown each year and harvested in the fall. The juice running down your chin and landing on your hand covering you in its stickiness.
You can never get them to tell too much. Soon they will start drinking the day away faster than you can believe maybe Panem is a good place. Eyes glazed over, staring longingly at the bottom of their mead glasses. The poisoning effects of the alcohol taking control. If you stay long enough and watch closely, hidden deep in their eyes, you can see truer colors.
Fear, death, shame each of those "evil" feeling clawing at one another battling to overcome and endless battle. Fighting an un-winnable battle. You watch this day after day that you shield yourself from these feelings, afraid of people reading your feelings. So, instead you start to read theirs. Beginning with the eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. It's true if they are red, shaking, dilated, wet, narrowed. Feelings you can't even name flashing across the pupils.
I used to even dream of being a peacekeeper the smooth, cold, sharp, shiny suits. Helmets that block anyone who is less superior than you. They can never read your eyes only you there's. Being respected for the work you do in order to protect Panem.
So respected that you lose a piece of yourself. Whether it was your sanity, hope, kindness, it's gone. Probably feel into one of those many beer bottles you emptied years ago.
But now walking into the District 2 training center, I would give anything to be at one of those peacekeeper bars. Even the reeking scent of alcohol is better than the smell of sweat and blood. I had just learned that blood tasted like metal. At 5 years old, losing a tooth was scary. The unexpected taste of the cold, sharp metallic flavor swimming in your mouth. Your tongue dancing across what felt like the smallest and biggest gap in the world wondering if it would ever be filled in. Fear shadowing former excitement.
The difference this time is that blood wasn't filling me to the brim, it was fear. Everyone could probably smell it. A small, innocent, young, lost little girl. The untamed wild animal inside of them waiting to be released. Hungry for blood, waiting for the perfect prey, ready to pounce. Desperate to feel the weakness of another.
With the morning sun standing behind the new training building, it cast a shadow over the entrance reminding you of a nightmare you had many months ago. Half a block wide, and 5 floors tall, made up of bland, grey, stones perfectly stacked atop one another, creating a sickening reminder that we must stay in line, under the firmest conditions. The glorified the bronze statues of past District 2 victors standing tall and proud, the weapons they used to slay their opponents in hand.
"Hey, what's your name?" My scuffed black-bowed shoes leave the ground for a quick jump. Heart pounding so hard it felt as if it were skipping beats. Dad always say to look directly in a person's eyes when they ask you a question. He also taught me that if you don't look at his, they will be turned purple.
"Clove. Clove Brierly." I say with the strongest big-girl voice I can muster as I look into his ice blue eyes. Curious, wanting a friend, innocent for now. He is close to my age and wearing what I can assume the training outfits are, the most noticeable thing are his knuckles, both are severely dry and red.
"Well, hey Clove, are you new here?" he asks a smile flashing across his face.
"First day." I say in the most un-readable monotone voice possible.
"Oh, cool I can show you around if you want." His eyes shine with excitement and passion.
"I just started last year but I know how to get around well. You have the cafeteria on the 5th floor, then you have the fighting hand-to-hand combat room on floor 2 near the bathrooms. Not the good ones but the okay ones. Then your-"
"Okay. Just please stop talking." This kid is a big yapper you can tell already. Mom says blunt is best. You tell people what you want and cut out all the chit-chat.
"Yes! Let's start right here. I will be your official tour guide my name is Cato Citadel. The training center was built-never mind I don't know when it was built." This is a waste of time. We start moving closer to the statues, and behind them the entrance.
We stop in front of a young guy holding an abnormally large shield with many arrows stuck on with the points sticking out. "As you can see to the right, we have statues of all past victors, starting with the very first District 2 winner Lumen the Laurel. Winner of the 2nd Hunger Games funnily enough."
Followed by many past winners until more familiar faces showed like Brutus Ornery. Specializing in spear throwing, it looks off with him he is so large compared to the thinness of the spear. His eyes looking considerably heavy and dull compared to the others. "This Brute, ha get it." Cato laughs so hard that I think I see tears coming out of his eyes.
I stare.
Then, I wait a solid minute for him to finish. "Anyway Brute"- he cuts himself off with a weird hiccup-like noise. "I get it he is a brute; he throws spears. Let's go." I say, I don't have time for laughs, I'm here to train in order to become one of those statues. I start walking off nearing the most recent statue, a woman this time. "Wait, wait, wait, I'm not done with the tour." This kid will not give it up. The blonde boy catches up to me, "this is Enobaria." She looks to be around 16 or 17 and has a long straight hair and a fierce grin. Teeth shining more glamorously than the rest of the statue. Rumor had it that she had her teeth sharpened like a wild animal.
"Anyhow let's show you the training rooms." Says Cato with an excited skip as we head into the building. Turning to the left hallway, we pass countless rooms of kids talking in groups, fighting in hand-to-hand combat, and using weapons on dummies. Fear slowly washes up on me. I need to find my trainer, where even is she? I don't even know her name or what she looks like. Is she tough? Can she teach me everything I need to know? What skill am I even going to learn first? I don't even know h-
"Hey you okay? Your looking kind of pasty." Cato asks with a confused expression. No! He caught me off guard! He can figure out my weaknesses! What is he going to do to me first? His knuckles are red that means he probably knows how to throw a punch or two. What should I do if he does? Duck? Punch back? I don't even know how to fight back!
"Fine!" I yell probably a little too loud.
A middle-aged woman with long wavy black hair, a blue-grey suit, polished black heels, and a cheerful smile but annoyed eyes walks up to us. "You two look a little lost aren't you guys supposed to be on the 3rd floor with the little kids?"
"We aren't little! Look at us!" Yells Cato aloud a group of teenagers walk by and one with spiky jet-black hair leans down and touches his nose with a "Boop." But before walking away, he says "Keep telling yourself that buddy." He then jumps up and runs off down the hallway, pushing and shoving anyone in his way, his entourage following right behind squawking loudly.
"Hey, don't call me buddy. Buddy!" Cato yells, his fist raised in the air, but they are too far down the hallway to even hear his voice.
"Come on, let's take you both upstairs, so you don't continue to add to the ruckus." She leads us down the same crowded hallway, passing 2 more training rooms. Filled with many dummies lined up in uniform rows and kids taking stabs at them with spears and swords. The other with maces and axes. Reaching the end of the hall, up a flight of stairs until we reach a door with a big red 3painted on. Up here I see kids more my sized. Some my age, while others looked to be 7,8, or 9. Most are wearing the same suit as Cato, but a small group are wearing their formal clothes like I am.
"What do we have here?" Another woman, tall and young, sandy-blonde hair, a stiff posture, well-muscled, but a curious glint in her eyes.
"These two were wandering near the floor 1 training rooms yelling." The older woman replies with a light sigh.
"Cato why were you even down there in the first place?" She asks almost bored like she has been through this entire spiel before.
"This girl-".
"Clove. -" I cut him off.
"Clove is new, and she wanted to get a tour of the building. I showed her the statues and the training rooms. I even told her how bad the bathrooms are up here!" He says gesturing with his left hand toward a door on the other side of the large room.
"Okay Mira you can go I got these two."
"Thank you, Lyme." With that she leaves heels clicking as she descends the stairs, the door then closing and cutting her off from sight.
"Alright Cato, you know you are required to stay inside this building until 4:00 PM. So, I don't understand why you would even be wandering outside. Let alone taking one of my students and distracting them from their training."
"What I was only going to use the good bathrooms on the first floor!" Cato avoids all eye contact with this Lyme woman. Fingers fidgeting with the seam of his training shirt. Cracking under the pressure. At this point being anywhere else than here right now would be more enjoyable. Even the house has a chance of less tension than this.
"Well because you seem so obsessed with the bathrooms on the first floor you get to clean them after today's training." Cato attempts to complain but is cut off by Lyme.
"Your dismissed Mr. Citadel go and train with your peers." She looks down coldly at him, now standing stiffer than before.
"Yes Ma'am," and with that he goes over to a group of boys in a line taking hits at a punching bag.
"Miss. Clove, I see you are part of our group of new trainees if you would join me over here, we could get started. You are just in time." We walk over to the group of other kids with their nice clothes on, in the corner of the room. Most of them from Uptown District 2, sitting down on the cold floor with talkative personalities and eager faces, impatiently waiting. Only 2 others wear a face of terror, both from the Shambles.
Lyme stands on one of the soft training mats making her looking even taller. The moment she clears her throat a silence falls on everyone who was once talking giving her a cue to speak.
"Hello everyone, welcome to the District 2 training center. I am your trainer Lyme. A few of you might know who I am but if you don't, I was a victor a decade or so back." Everyone awes in amazement.
"During your time here at the training center you will learn how to fight. You will first start off with practicing the basic skills of hand-to-hand combat on floor 3 until you reach the age of 9. Once 9 you will move downstairs to floor 2, where you will spend 3 years fighting each other uncovering your strengths and hopefully improving your weaknesses. Once you reach the age of 12 you will finally be moved to floor 1 where you will learn how to fight with more than just your hands." She pauses for a breath.
"This is not something that is supposed to be taken lightly you are being brought here to train to win the Hunger Games in order to bring pride to District 2. There will be a series of 2 tests per floor. One a mid-level test that serves the purpose of tracking your progress. A second at the end of each floor. The test at the end of each floor is the more crucial assessment. It will determine whether you have the strength and will to descend to the next floor. If you don't then you are no longer welcomed here." Everyone is silent in our corner. I don't know if they are afraid of her or the tests.
"We are now going to be going to be going upstairs, in order to get you all in your uniforms." She moves toward the stairwell and our class of 14 follow. All the kids from Uptown District 2 follow right behind and me and the others from the Shambles trail behind at the very end.
I get watch everyone else punch bags, practice blocking, stretching, already in their uniforms. It's all unknown, so many new things. It's scary. As I walk closer to the doors, heading into yet another new place, something catches my eye. It's that strange boy Cato. He waves at me grinning ear to ear. The surprising thing of all is even with his witless attitude, I can't help but wave back before walking out the door.
I'm planning on this is be a chapter series, make sure to keep your eyes peeled for more chapters!