Star Crossed (Clato Fanfiction)

Chapter One

Introduction

"Clove!"

"Yes, father," I say as I enter the dinning room.

He stares at me as I sit down. He's trying to get a reaction out of me. He knows I hate being stared at. I just give him my best smile and start eating.

"First day of training today. Are you nervous?"

Training for the annual Hunger Games starts today. Being 12 years old, I'll be one the youngest people there. So yes, I am nervous but he doesn't want my real answer.

"Not at all."

"That's my girl. I have a present for you."

A present? That's strange. I only get presents on my birthday, sometimes not even then.

"A present?"

"Yes, finish eating and get dressed then I'll give it to you."

I shove the last bite of food down my throat then hurry to my room. We have a certain outfit my have to wear for training. Each age group has a different color. My color is red. It's kind of funny that they give the beginners the color of blood. I guess they expect us to get hurt a lot.

I put on the outfit and put my hair in two ponytails. I hurry back into the dinning room and see my father sitting there with a box. It's not too big but not too small. I walk over to the table and sit down. He slides the box over and motions for me to open it. I carefully open the box and my mouth falls open. He's giving my mothers old knifes. I haven't seen them since she died last year. I look up at him and smile.

"Thank you, father. This means so much."

"I want you to be just like your mother. You know, they say she never missed the target."

"I'll be just like her, father. I'll make you proud."

I get up and hug him. He doesn't hug back but this is normal. He hasn't shown any affection towards me in a long time but I know he still loves me. He wouldn't have given me something so valuable if he didn't.

"Well, you better get going. You don't want to be late."

I pull away and nod. I grab the knives and slide my shoes on. I tell father goodbye then walk out the door.

The walk in to the Training Center isn't a long one. It only takes 15 minutes to get there from my house. I can't help but look around as I walk. District 2 isn't anything special but I know it's better than the other districts. Well, that's what my father tells me anyway. There's peacekeepers everywhere, watching every move we make. I smile at them as I pass by.

I reach the Training Center and walk inside. There's kids in a big circle around the instructor. I go stand beside a girl my age. It's easy to tell each age group apart. We're wearing different colors.

Age 12: red

Age 13: orange

Age 14: yellow

Age 15: brown

Age 16: grey

Age 17: black

They use to make 18 year olds train but not anymore. They said that by the time your an adult you should be skilled. 6 years of training is plenty of enough time to learn how to fight and use weapons.

I heard that no one younger than 16 has ever completed in the Hunger Games for district 2. I know that if I get picked someone will volunteer for me. But here's the catch, if the instructor tells you that it's your time to volunteer then you have to. No questions asked. If you volunteer on your own, you better win or you're a disgrace to everyone. It sounds kind of harsh to me but I have to follow the rules.

"Today you will pick your skill. You will work at that skill until you are perfect at it. You cannot change your skill after you pick it or I assure you that I will not pick you to volunteer," the instructor says, pulling me from my thoughts.

He eyes the room before continuing," That was mostly for the beginners. Everyone else should know their skill by now. The older kids will help the younger ones today. If you think they won't be good at the skill they've picked, tell them. Now, you may begin."

I look around the room and spot the knife throwing section. I walk over to it and open my pack of knives. I choose one that feels good in hands then I study the target. My mother taught me a few things before she died but I've never thrown from this far away.

I pull my arm back and I'm about to throw when someone grabs my wrist. I pull my arm away and turn to face them. It's boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. He's about a foot taller than me and is being orange. He must be 13.

"Why did you do that?"

"You were holding the knife wrong."

I blush and look down. I thought I was doing it right. I probably looked so stupid.

"Hey, it's okay. I can show you how to hold it the right way."

I look up and say," Really?"

"Yes. I was a beginner last year and I know hard the first day is."

"Okay, show me."

He takes the knife from my hand and holds it in a odd way. He studies the target while I study him. I don't think I've ever seen him around. He looks really weak but I know that's not the case. No one in 2 is weak. His blonde hair is combed down, his bangs almost in his baby blue eyes. He's really cute.

"..And that's how you do it!"

I turn my attention back to the target. I see my knife is in the center. He hit it perfectly but how?

"Can you show me again?"

He smiles and nods. He starts explaining how he did it. This time I watch and listen.

By the time training is over, I've hit the target perfectly 12 times. I'm smiling from ear to ear at the boy.

"Thank you so much."

"It's no big deal but since I told you how to throw, you have to tell me something."

"Okay, ask anything."

"What's your name?"

My name? He taught me how to throw and just wants to know my name?

"Clove."

"Clove...I like it. It's pretty just like it's owner."

I blush and say," Thank you. What's your name?"

He starts to answer but then stops himself. He just grins at me then walks away. I stare as he walks away. Why didn't he tell me his name? I'm really curious now.

I pack up my knifes then hurry out of the Training Center. I look around but don't see him anywhere. I guess I'll have to figure out who he is tomorrow.