Thirty-Eight - Damage Control

                                    

                                          
Clio's arms are stacked with cardboard boxes; a duffel bag balanced precariously on top as she makes her way down the flight of stairs back towards the foyer to the tribute dormitories. Given that her sister's funeral was this morning and that she hasn't done anything the past week she's been back home, the head of the Academy had ordered her to collect – or organise collection of – Clove's belongings from her dorm room. Her dorm mates had the common sense to spend longer in the dining hall this evening after spotting her and Cato in the building, and so, without disruption, it's taken them half an hour up until six forty-five to box everything up and leave the building. Sadness lurks beneath the surface of her eyes as their footsteps echo through the empty stone corridor, pausing for a moment as they leave the threshold with the knowledge that they'll never have any reason to return to the dorms in a weird, bittersweet nostalgia; before making the short walk to Victor's Village. The only place left to store Clove's belongings – boxes of photos and decorations including fancy calligraphy pens and notebooks, her flower press and all her clothing; trainers, sports outfits, claw clips and her own worn pair of ice skates that are slightly blunt now. The Peacekeepers move aside from the large wrought iron gates as they approach and Clio finds herself grateful that masks cover their faces because of the pity that she would no doubt see on their expressions. 
They throw the boxes into one of the many bedrooms at the back of her house – the same one where Enobaria had placed the bags she managed to save from the disaster fire a week ago. The unboxes are all taped up and the bags still zipped; Clio not daring to begin the process of sorting through her sister's belongings. Taking one look at the room, the very room Clove would sleep in when she would stay over due to the view of the mountains that it offers, Clio turns on her heel and descends the staircase, ready to head back to the Academy. 
"Forgot something!" She calls out to Cato.
"Two minutes!" 
"No, it's okay, I'll go." She explains. "I'm going to clear my head afterwards, I'll maybe be like an hour."
She doesn't wait for him to answer back, quickly leaving her own house behind and jumping the large wall that separates her garden from the rest of the district streets – only to avoid the Peacekeeper presence. 
The streets are still empty as she walks back to the Academy dorms, strolling straight back inside the foyer. It takes two minutes for her to avoid the matrons and the worker on the front desk, keeping flush against the wall, quickly entering her sister's old dorm to grab the one bag that she purposefully left behind, before continuing further into the dorm building until she reaches the private staircase. The staircase that leads the two storeys up to the third floor of the building where the selected volunteers are housed in their own solitary dorms, alongside the matrons on duty, spare rooms for the trainers and supply closets filled with replacement weapons and combat dummies. 
Using her knowledge of the Academy's workings to her advantage, she knows that the curfew on a normal training day is nine o'clock with the matrons making their last rounds at half past to check everyone is obeying the lights out order. So she'll have to act quietly in the window of opportunity to lure Ebony to the stairs and act accordingly. But for now, she'll have to wait patiently in the top corridor, so she stops in the middle of the hallway and looks everywhere for somewhere to wait. She finds one of the storage closets, slides herself into the tiny room and closes the door behind her. 
This has to be the smallest cupboard in the entire Academy, she thinks, cursing herself for choosing this room when the chances of one of the trainers or matrons entering the larger rooms are slim to none, and she could be spending the few hours that she has to wait aiming at the various dummies and targets. It's small, not large enough for her to comfortably hide in, but there's footsteps along the hallway so she has no choice but to remain in the dark now.