Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, etc. All belongs to Suzanne Collins

"Let me go!"

"Holding onto what I have is all I've got."

Then end of fifth grade came quickly for Cato and I, and on that last day, we were closer than ever. I'd turned twelve on that day. So, we were on the same ground, at least age-wise. Technically, though, I was not twelve until the clock depicted 11:39 PM.

School let out at 3:00 PM every day for the kids in elementary school, and I was having a birthday party. My first birthday party ever.

You see, in Districts that train Careers, becoming of age to be in the Games is a great honor. So, each year you age past twelve, all the way up until nineteen, you have a celebration each time you become older. After you hit nineteen, you have to celebrate on your own account.

I had stayed after school for thirty minutes – the damn teacher gave me a detention. How was it my fault the kid ran into my knife? That's how it happened. He ran into my knife. He ran into my knife about twenty times. Let's just say I lost count, okay?

Celebrations are special. Let's take it from after-school detention and move on.

I slowly pushed open the stained white oak door that led into my home. The lights were dim and I suspected that maybe no body was home. I dropped my bag on the floor and stepped into the house, and then shut the door without looking back at it.

In the next second, I was in his arms, the lights were on, and a mass of people shouted "Happy Birthday!".

When I said it was a great honor to turn twelve, I meant it. It's honestly pretty high up there.

I turned and saw Cato, holding me about a foot above the ground. I was laughing, and so were people around me. He gently plopped me on the couch, and my aunt Enobaria brought in my cake. I only see her one every few months, and this was so amazing that she was bringing me my cake. I blew out the candles before clinging onto her.

The rest of the night was amazing. I got a new set of throwing knives from Enobaria, a hand crafted dagger that Cato had made for me – it was his hobby, other than training for the Games. He was actually quite good at it. I received many things, all of which I enjoyed, but Cato's was my favorite. Just looking at it, you could tell it had taken him at least an entire day of non stop work to carve my name in to match my signature. Maybe even two days. But I had not hugged him, since I knew people would've thought we were together. Which we weren't. Just friends.

At around 7:00 PM, just about everyone cleared out. Cato stayed, since he didn't want to leave me by myself since my dad was probably out drinking. And he wanted to be there when my dad came home; not out in the open, but hiding, in case something happened. He didn't say this, but I knew this was a large part of the reason.

"How long did it take you to make the dagger?" I asked while I was looking at it, sitting next to him on the couch. Cato's muscular arm sat on the back of the couch, and I had my feet up under me, close to him.

"Probably two months, give or take a week," he replied, with a simple tone and a small smile on his face.

"Cato," I looked up at him. "You've been making this for me for the past two months?"

He nodded, and I smiled as I hugged him, pulling him close. I whispered a thank-you in his ear, and then I pulled away.

Four hours later, it was coming up on 11:35 PM, and no sign of my father. I was getting a bit tired, so I went to my bedroom and changed quickly. Cato came in afterwards, and he glanced at the clock. I didn't think much about it at the time, but now I do. It was 11:38.

The moment he saw it turn 11:39 PM out of the corner of his blue eye, he pulled me roughly to him and hoisted me up, his lips meeting mine. My first kiss.

He set me back on my feet and I pulled him down, returning the kiss. I looked up into his eyes. "Stay here with me. Just for the night."

Cato nodded, and we went to my bed after closing the door and turning on the lamp on my bedside table. It was a twin sized bed, so it was a tight squeeze. He had 'gotten dressed' for bed by taking off his shirt and pants. I had looked at him awkwardly, and Cato replied telling me that he slept in his boxers. As I lay next to him, his arms around me, I sort out how we're going to end up. We'll probably both be Hunger Games victors... live together in the Victor's Village. Make a life together. Maybe have kids. His warmth flowed through my small body, and I knew he was thinking the same. The last thing I remember from that night is Cato, him gently kissing my forehead and wrapping his arms around me securely.

Over the summer, training was intense. Half the time, especially during the mock games, Cato and I seemed to hate each other. Wanting to kill one another. During lunch – particularly after he had showed me up in a mock games – one of my throwing knives would hit him in the shoulder or sometimes the leg. I'd made sure that his blood was the first drawn from every single one of my new knives.

But I had yet to use the dagger he made for me.

In one of our longest mock trials, it came down to just me and him, after three hours of fighting. The summer sun was raining down on us, full blast, and we knew this had to end soon. There was little water – most of it had evaporated.

Sometimes a mock version of the Hunger Games would go over night, but that was only really allowed if there were animals and a source of water in the arena.

A haze spread over the arena, and I went up; into a tree when he had his back turned. Cato soon came into my range, looking for me. That's when I swooped down. I caught him by surprise, and I struggled to keep him down. Then, I quickly went to work. Using one of my sharper throwing knives, I lifted his shirt, and just below his boxer line, carved:

x_ _ _ _ _

It was a small incision, but enough to leave a scar. Cato soon flipped me over, after realizing what I had done, and went to 'kill' me, but I managed to get him in the shoulder, first. "Oops. You're dead." Came my mocking voice. But I kept the knife in his shoulder, and pulled his head down. "Meet me in the locker rooms." I whispered, before pushing him off of me and heading to the infirmary so they could check over my cuts.

I waited until people had cleared out before going to Cato's locker in the boys' locker room. He was standing there, cleaning one of his swords. He looked up at me, and raised a brow, asking why I wanted to meet him.

I sat next to him on the bench and pushed up his shirt, bringing down his shorts a bit. I saw the cut I'd given him earlier. I took out the dagger he'd made me. It still shined, and I saw the blood reflect on its blade. I pushed him down, so he lay on the bench, and straddled him.

Finally, I pushed the knife onto him, and carved my name on the line I'd made: Clove. It turned out rather nice, since it was my first time adding art into drawing blood from someone.

Cato watched me as I worked, and sat up when I was done. He saw the fresh cut depicting my name on the blade of my dagger. He grinned, and murmured, "You bitch."

I smiled and kissed him quickly on the forehead before leaving.

A/N: Thanks for the 4 reviews on the last one. I'm not being sarcastic. I really mean it! I love how everyone wants me to continue. And continue I will! And this story was favorited/add to Story Alert about ten or so times. Thanks everybody!