Ever since we moved in with the Clafetons, life has been much easier. I don't have to steal as much, and we actually have beds to sleep in and a roof above us.
Amber, Spade, Ardisia, Hawken, and Blaire Clafeton live in a towering marble house that's probably the tallest in all of District 5. Honestly, I have no idea how they got so much money. But, somehow, they have.
There are some issues, though. They're all orphans, like I am. That's why they're so sympathetic towards my siblings and me. Their parents died in a fire while Blaire was at the Capitol before being entered into the Games, forcing Spade to take control for the next couple of weeks.
Blaire is the oldest, seventeen. She's quite beautiful. Bronze locks twisting a few inches past her shoulders. Pale freckles sprinkled right on her cheekbones. Porcelain white skin. Frosty blue eyes like crescent moons that are engraved into your mind forever. Besides her outside beauty, there's not much on the inside; she's not shy, but not outspoken. Haunting and fox-like, her light features are descriptions of her personality.
Spade is next in line after Blaire. He's my age, fourteen, with shaggy, ashen blonde hair falling unevenly above his eyes. Sharp, almond-shaped eyes glare like sparkling amber knives in the sunlight. Captivating, honestly; and quite unique. Carrying around boxes of metals and strings and whatever they use in electricity factories has amplified his brawniness, given him strong, ox-like shoulders. You can see the muscles rippling in his arms when he throws his spear at the tree in my backyard.
Amber is the one who came to my siblings' rescue. She's thirteen, and much like the mother of the family. While Blaire and Spade are at the factories, Amber stays home and tends to the little ones. Mainly, she cooks meals and tidies the house. Stacking books on the shelves, mopping and vacuuming the floors, washing the sheets, etcetera. She says it doesn't tire her, but I can tell by the dark rings under her normally flashy, light brown eyes and her tangled ginger hair that the work has become an overload.
Ardisia and Hawken are the youngest of the Clafeton family. They're four-year-old twins, Ardisia being the proper little lady, and Hawken the messy, immature boy. Ardisia's actually quite intelligent, though, and a complete opposite of her brother. Amber has taught her to clean up after herself and not to play with wires. Hawken, on the other hand, does play with wires and almost anything else that's electrical; Spade always says Hawken's going to be an engineer (not that he has much choice, but I understand what he means).
Out of all five Clafetons, I have to say I have the closest bond with Spade. He's my age, the first I met out of his family members, and, unlike the others, we share many interests. On days that neither of us is working, we sit high up in the bare branches of trees while surveying the town or reading.
Today is one of those days. Grasping my hand, Spade pulls me up onto a branch. I scoot over to him and tuck my knees to my chest, leaning against the tree trunk.
Below us, a mother scolds her child for running off into the crowd. Two teenagers are sipping their drinks from plastic, neon yellow cups. Samantha, Willow's rich, bratty best friend, is shrieking something at a man behind a wooden counter; probably demanding that he lower the price of his fruits.
Every once in a while, Samantha comes over to our house to stay for a night. Usually, she and Willow slide down the banister or wreck my room (Samantha hates me, and I don't really get along with Willow anymore). Last time she came, the two of them poured water on my bed, cracked eggs all over the wall, and trampled our neighbor's garden.
Paying no more attention to the usual chatter, my gaze switches to Spade. As always, his wiry blonde hair is ruffled, but in a natural way; it's clean and I can tell he brushed it, just as I ordered. He's got a light dusting of freckles below his eyes and on the bridge of his nose. His mischievous grin shows that he's up to no good.
"What now?" I ask, my lips turning up into a slight smile. Swinging my leg back and forth over the edge of the branch, I raise an eyebrow and narrow my eyes a little, my gaze still fixed on the fourteen-year-old boy next to me.
"Samantha's visiting today," says Spade, smirking. His naturally misty blue eyes, specked with shades of Blaire's frosty blue ones, glint as he snickers.
My smile fades, switching to a frown. Knitting my eyebrows, I say, "So, what?" Both of us despise Samantha. We even nicknamed her the "Corrupt Doll." I mean, she is a doll, with her flawless chocolate locks and innocent smile masking the flagitious, furtive girl with the devious schemes. She's a disaster.
"Well, I was thinking… and I decided we should, I don't know, do something to her. You know, like put honey in her hair while she's asleep or use my new gun to shoot something in the room she and Willow will be staying in," he says.
I giggle uncontrollably at the picture that forms in my mind. "I love the way you think," I say, grasping his hand in mine. "Let's get started, shall we?"
Samantha and Willow are pissed. Leaping out of bed, Samantha grabs her knife and swings it around, slashing through nothing but the air. Giggling, I shuffle out of the room and smack right into Spade and tumble onto him as he falls to the ground, arms flailing.
I absolutely lose it. By now, I'm cracking up, beating the floor with my fists. I've seen other people laugh this hard before, but never have I done it myself. Actually, I never even imagined I could laugh like this, given my history. Life back then was so dull, miserable; I never had anything to laugh about. But now, my life is so much better and I have hundreds of things to set me off like this.
Raising an eyebrow in amusement, Spade stares at me. I cover my mouth, but my hands are pulled behind my back as Spade turns me over and tickles me. He knows that's my weakness.
"Stop it!" I cry, still laughing. "I can't breath!" It's true; I'm gasping for breath when he lets me go, smirking.
"Come on, let's get out of here." Taking my hand and pulling me to my feet, he wipes off his shirt. Instead of dashing down the stairs like we usually do for a quick escape, we slide down the banister.
"That's a good way to clean it off," I mutter as I drop gracefully to the floor, landing perfectly on my feet.
Upstairs, Willow and Sam are throwing a fit. Just as we disappear into the dining room, I hear them storming down the stairs, shrieking. A high-pitched scream reaches my ears, and I safely guess that Samantha has seen her reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the staircase.
Stifling a snort of amusement, I slide under the kitchen table, my back low to the ground, body bent awkwardly so I won't hit my head. I just have to show off like this every once in a while.
Again, Spade takes my hand in his and darts into the next room. I'm not exactly sure what this one is; it's just… there. I suppose I like it, though, with its plush chairs and couches and lavender walls.
Out of the three doors in the "lavender running room," Spade chooses the one to the left. I find myself in the room Spade and I use to exercise. Well, he exercises, while I do flips or sketch something on the wall.
Sketching is one of my many hobbies. When I have nothing else to do or if I become wary of whatever else I've been doing to keep myself busy, I come down here – usually, the room is already occupied by Spade – with my brushes and pencils and draw something on the wall. Most of the time, it's something simple, like an apple tree or a bird. I've been doing it for a while, though, so a good bit of the wall is decorated with my facile vignettes and sketches.
Collapsing to the floor, I clutch my stomach, laughing and gasping at the same time. I can hardly breathe, but I'm having so much fun.
"You think they'll find us?" I ask once I finally catch my breath.
Shaking his head, he says jokingly, "Never. Samantha's too stupid to pick the lock for this room." He winks.
I let out a little laugh and lean back on the wall. "Yeah, I bet they've already given up. I don't hear any screaming."
Spade chuckles and pats my knee with a calloused hand. "We should stay down here for a while. Let them cool off. I think we both know how they are when they're mad."
I groan. "Try living with Willow almost all your life. It's a nightmare."
"I've had to put up with Samantha for three years," he says defensively. "But that's not near as bad as eight, I suppose."
"She's a brat. Family, though, so I have to love her. We've been through a lot…" I let my voice trail off with a soft shudder.
"What was it like?" whispers Spade, looking up at me with concerned ocean-blue eyes sparkling like stars. They're truly beautiful…
"My parents died when I was nine," I begin shakily. "I started taking care of Ivy, Willow, Roman, and Calanthe on my own, living in the same house. But then it burned down. We had nowhere to go. We…" I pause, taking in a deep breath, wondering if I should continue. After a few seconds, I shake my head, having made up my mind. "We didn't have any money, so we moved into an old shed for a couple of months. It was…" I try to think of the words that Ardisia taught me. "Filthy, desolate, feculent."
"How did you stay alive? I mean, you didn't have any money, so how did you get food and clothes?" Spade's tone is respectful, not accusing.
I lean in closer and reply in a voice that's barely a whisper, "I stole."
Only a small bit of surprise flickers in his eyes. He knows me well enough to presume how I survived with no money or job.
Ignoring his lack of shock, I continue. "Someone ended up buying the shed and fixing it up. It's nice, now; he did a good job. Anyway, he bought the shed, and we got a little money. It wasn't worth much, though, so we still couldn't live in a proper home. After that, we lived in the forest for a week or two while I tried to find somewhere else for us to stay. We all hated the forest, especially Calanthe. There weren't any abandoned houses, sheds, or warehouses left, though. That's when we started living in alleys."
"You came to the alley beside my bakery five months ago," finishes Spade.
"Five months ago," I firmly repeat, nodding my head. "My siblings and I met you and the others three months ago." My voice gets a little quieter.
"And I'm so glad," he whispers, barely audible. There's an edge to his voice. Something I can't quite put my finger on glossed his statement.
Breaking the silence that followed, I announce, "We'd better be getting back upstairs. Breakfast should be ready soon." With that, Spade and I take off, dashing up the stairs, prepared for Samantha's fit and Amber's lecture.
Let me know how it wasss(: