Autumn's POV
After dinner, we gather around a TV in one of the train compartments to watch the reapings. Gemma tries to make small talk, and she offers her little comments on each tribute. Only Harvey even attempts to oblige her. Derra is sitting apart from the rest of us, while Kurt and I are silently scrutinizing the competition. Thankfully, most of the others don't look too dangerous. A few of them stand out to me, though. There are the hulking boys from Districts 2 and 11, but neither of them look that smart. As long as I stay out of their ways, I'll probably be safe. It's the girls I'm worried about: the tiny, intelligent one from 11 and the volunteer from 12. And, of course, the attractive but satanic girl from District 2. But I'll find ways to outlast them all.
"Autumn, are you okay?" Gemma asks nervously. I jump, startled. "I'm fine. Just thinking."
"Well, that won't get you anywhere in the games." Gemma says. Kurt rolls his eyes and speaks to her.
"Nothing will get us anywhere. We're district 5." He has a kind voice, and for a moment I regret not getting to know him better while I had the chance. But that would only be a strategic weakness while in the Games. So instead I just give him a small smile, then stand up. "I'm going to bed." I announce. "I'll see you all in the morning."
Clove's POV
"I look weak." I say, glaring at the screen. Cato shakes his head. "No you don't, Clove. You look deadly."
"Thanks." I mutter. I go back to sharpening my fingernails with a steak knife. We stay silent for a few minutes.
"All the tributes look wimpy this year." I say in an attempt to break the silence. "Except-"
"Don't tell me you like one of them." Cato interrupts.
"Nah, not really." I lie. "I mean, the redhead's pretty, but District 5? Really?"
"Yeah." Cato says. "Not up to speed for us, is she?" He takes one of my knives and throws it at the wall, getting a solid stick between two of the panels. "I taught you well." I say, looking up from my nails.
"You taught me nothing."
I snort and throw the knife I'm holding. It embeds itself in the same seam, at the exact angle it takes to dislodge Cato's. I pick up the next knife and begin working on my left ring finger. The end of the blade slips, and slits my fingertip.
"Hell." I say, looking at the blood and trying to ignore the pain. It's a nice color, blood. Red and rich and almost iridescent. It quiets the monster. "I'm tired." I announce, standing up and leaving. What I really mean is tired of company, but I'm not about to tell my friend that. I go to my room and try to fall asleep, but I can't get the redheaded girl out of my mind.