1. I remember
I remember. Eight years old, I was eight years old. Mother and father left me at the training center in District 2. It's a training center the the kids live in during the week, but we all live at home on the weekends and public holidays. There are different training houses for all the ages eight to eighteen and we are trained for the Hunger Games.
The very first day I showed what I were good at. Throwing knife of course. My teachers had a long meeting while I sat with my parents and waited. Then they came out, the principal and my teachers. I would move two up grades. I would take lessons with the children who were two years older than me. They were ten and I was eight.
The very first day with them I were teased. How could I be so good that I had to move up two years, right? However. They stopped when they saw me throw the knives. Almost everyone tried to prove that they were better than me at throwing knives. But no one succeeded.
I stood there and threw a few hours. Then I turned around and I saw someone. A boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. Even though he is ten years everyone can see how big his muscles are.
He looked around and stayed with his eyes. It was that moment I noticed that he looked at me. Our eyes met and I could not tell if he was smiling or snorted.
It's been eight years since then and I've always known. But never said anything, never even talked to him. And I might never get the chance, now that everyone knows that he is going to sign up as a volunteer for the Hunger Games.
The boys name is Cato. I, I'm Clove.
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