Panem High School {COMPLETED}

Chapter 8 - Clove

(Please, if you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to let me know.)

(Clove's POV)

By the time I get home, I don't want to cry anymore. That feeling has been replaced by a determination to not let Glimmer win. To stay strong. I just don't know how to do it.

I think I'm going to need a way to escape, from life, if the next few weeks are going to be as bad as I expect. For my whole life, there's only been one way that I've done that. Reading.

I haven't read any books since eighth grade. Glimmer said reading was stupid, do I automatically agreed. Well, now I don't care what she thinks.

I unceremoniously dump the contents of my backpack onto my bed, and sling the empty bag over my shoulder. I don't own any books, because I've never had money to buy any, but I still have my library card. At least, my mom still has it. It's somewhere in her room, probably.

I leave my backpack on the floor in the hall and start rummaging through my mom's dresser drawers. I honestly have no idea where she keeps things. I try to keep the house clean, but she doesn't let me clean her room. My mom could be on that "Hoarders" show on tv. If I didn't throw things away before she got home from work, our house would be full of old bills, newspapers, and knickknacks. You probably wouldn't be able to walk around.

Nothing is found in her dresser, so I walk towards her desk. Somehow, I trip over a shoe and fall on a stack of cardboard boxes. The top one, labelled "childhood," falls to the floor with a crash, and the contents spill out on the floor. I gasp, and hurriedly set the bow upright and start shoving things back in.

There's all kinds of junk, old pictures, books, papers, an old broken camera. I pick up an envelope and feel a sharp pain in my hand. Quickly drawing my hand back, I flip the envelope over. Underneath are three razor blades. I glance at my palm, with a tiny line of red appearing.

I stare in shock at the blades. Suddenly, a lot of things that I've never noticed before make sense. Like the fact that I've only ever seen my mom in long sleeves. Even on the hottest days in summer, she always claims to be cold.

Something else registers in my mind. My mom has had a hard life too. She never tells me about her childhood, though I know I don't have grandparents. I've always thought of her as an uncaring, unfeeling person. Maybe I've been wrong.

One things for sure: my mom can't know I've found these. She will kill me. I pick them up gingerly and drop them in the box, then clean up the rest of the mess. I find my library card in the top drawer of her desk.

Most kids would probably leave a note saying where they went, what time they expect to be back, not to worry. I don't. My mom doesn't care where I go, or for how long. She told me so herself, once, when she was drunk and didn't realize she was discussing it with her daughter. I grab my bus pass and head out.

The bus stop is a few blocks away. I think the bus drivers refuse to drive through my neighborhood. I don't blame them. It's not safe. Every other house is either abandoned or looks the part. Several houses have two or three mean guard dogs tied up out front, which bark at me as I pass. A lot of the houses have large families, though, and most weekends I can make some extra money babysitting.

I sit down on the bench at the bus stop. The bus schedule printed on the sign says the next bus should get here in four minutes. Now would be a nice time to have a phone, so I wouldn't be so bored. Or a book.

Finally, the bus arrives, and the ride isn't very long. The public library is a very grand building, three stories high, marble pillars out front, large mahogany doors. I feel very small walking in.

When I was thirteen, I wasn't brave enough to venture into the teen section, so I read children's books. My size meant that the librarians assumed I was eleven, so I would have looked out of place there anyway. Now, however, I walk straight to the front desk.

"Can you tell me where I can find the teen section?" I ask quietly.

The old woman at the desk points up and whispers, "Third floor, to your left."

Quietly, I make my way up the stairs to the third floor. I take a minute to look down off the balcony at the rest of the library. So many books in the same place... Briefly I wonder if anyone has ever read all of them. Then I turn to the left and begin wandering around.

The amount of books is surprising. For some reason, I've always had the idea that authors write adult books and children's books, and nothing in between. Now I know I'm wrong.

I spend maybe an hour wandering around. It's so quiet and peaceful here, I forget everything. Nothing matters except finding a good book.

Finally, I settle on Divergent, by Veronica Roth. It looks interesting, and I remember Glimmer saying something about how she hated the movie, so that makes it even better. Apparently it's a trilogy, so I decide to check out the next two books as well. If I don't like them, I can just return them.

I glance at my watch. 5:30. Mom will be home in about an hour. I need to hurry. As I'm walking downstairs, I pass the "Classics" section. My English teacher last year went on and on about the importance of reading classic works. Never brave enough to show up to school with a book like Great Expectations or Pride and Prejudice, and not stupid enough to leave a book lying around at home, I ignored her. Now, I can do whatever I want. I pause, and quickly grab the first book I see. Oliver Twist. Fine with me.

I practically fly down the stairs and check out my books. They are due back in three weeks.

The bus ride home is uneventful, and I only see the same dogs in my neighborhood. I've only been at home for ten minutes, which is luckily long enough to make Ramen noodles, before I hear my mom's old, beat-up car pull into the driveway. I'm just setting my bowl on the table when she walks in. She only nods in my direction, picks up her bowl, and retreats to her room. At least she's sober.

I spend the evening reading, and only force myself to go to bed at eleven so I won't fall asleep in class tomorrow. I end up dreaming about factions and jumping off buildings and Glimmer wielding a butter knife.