I finally started it :) This is an account of the finale of the 74th Hunger Games, and then a few different versions of it. The story focuses on Cato. What would it be like if he won? Or if he died in a different way? That's all I'm going to say for now, because the AU themes are meant to be a secret :) Anyway, this story is going to have five parts. And it'll include some Clato in at least one of the AUs, maybe more. I'll start with the part of the story that stays the same no matter how different the ending is :D Hope you enjoy the story!
Prologue
You could live in a wealthy district, like Two. Or one of the poorest districts, Ten, Eleven, or Twelve. You could be a quarry worker. A shop owner. A victor. A criminal. The mayor's kid. The mayor himself. No matter who you are or where you're from, one thing stays the same in Panem. If you aren't in the square on Reaping Day, you'd better be at death's door. If you're not, the Peacekeepers can make it happen easily enough. That's what they do in my district, at least. It happened to my cousin when he was my age.
The thing about the reaping is, you can usually guess who will be picked. It's more often the poor kids, the ones desperate enough to risk their lives for some extra food. Lucky for them, they never end up going into the arena. I used to question why I showed up at all on Reaping Day. All I had to do was stand in the crowd and watch some lucky kid charge up to the stage, ready for the Games. Until this year, that is.
We have a lot of victors in Two. But if one of our tributes comes home a winner, the other one is dead. It's a given. Last year, there was a huge party for our new victor. For a moment, I took a break, and thought about his district partner. How much I would despise myself if I ended up like her. Dead with my whole district celebrating. Even if a tribute from another district won; somewhere, they would be celebrating my death.
I'm never going to let that happen.
It's a gray morning. The stormy sky is an ugly color that matches the rocks in the quarries, and the last thing I want to do is get out of bed. I'm half-asleep when I hear a loud knock at my door.
"Get up!" This is Renehan, one of the more motivated trainers. On the morning of the reaping, he always makes it his responsibility to walk through the dormitories, knocking on every door to ensure that none of us are late to arrive at the square.
Reaping day. I swear under my breath and throw off the blanket. If there's one day where it's worse than usual to be shot by the Peacekeepers, this would be it.
The Training Center is usually very efficient in keeping the live-in students in order. But since both District Two tributes made it to the finale in the 73rd Games, the number of Careers-in-training has skyrocketed. The other veterans and I laugh about it, the fact that there aren't enough trainers to keep up with the newbies. That's what I wanted to do, if I didn't make it through the tribute trials; become a trainer. But out of every boy in my age level, I was the victor, so I'm going into the Games.
I've overslept. Now I'm too late to get some training in before the reaping. So I focus on trying to find something to wear. It's challenging to center my attention on clothing when I'll be in the Capitol tomorrow. I'd much rather work on my strategy for the arena now.
Any good impression you want, you make it at the reaping. I hear Brutus' voice in the back of my mind. The victor has tried to drill that information into my head since my first day of training. I guess he's succeeded. According to him, I can't rely on my strength to save me in the Games. I need sponsors, too. And to get sponsors, I have to be well liked. The people of the Capitol have to want to help me win the Games.
Screw your logic, Brutus. I start to put on a button-down shirt.
By the time I leave my room, the hall is crowded with Careers-in-training. A few of the kids in the age group below me clap me on the back, wish me luck in the arena. I get some dirty looks from the ones in my age group, the ones who no longer have a chance at victory in the Games. Normally, I'd pick a fight. But today, I'm feeling too superior.
Why are they still here? I think as I return their glares. They're too old for training now.
"Cato!" I look over my shoulder, and Rufus is heading towards me. In the months since I made it through the tribute trials, I've hung out with the twelve-year-old pretty often. It's funny, the fact that he's been a better friend to me than anyone in my age group. Probably because they all despise me.
But that doesn't matter, not when I'll be in the arena next week.
"Hey, Rufus."
"Hi!" Rufus grins at me. I guess he's excited for his first reaping.
"Everyone, out! Get to the square, all of you!" Renehan elbows his way through the crowd.
"Where are the others?" asks Rufus as he watches the determined trainer struggle to get us all out the door.
"I don't know. If I were a trainer, I wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of this," I say over the noise. Rufus laughs.
Somehow, we make it to the door without getting trampled. The clouds have grown black, heavy with water. The whole district seems darker today.
"Looks like rain," says Rufus with a frown. He's never been too fond of storms.
"Just imagine the escort's reaction when she gets wet," I suggest with a grin. Ida Seeming's looks, her vibrant wigs and caked-on makeup, would be much improved in the pouring rain.
"She'd look like a clown," laughs Rufus.
"She looks like a clown, rain or not," I point out.
Sign in doesn't take long. Soon, we have to get to our spots for the reaping.
"Good luck," says Rufus, before heading to the back of the crowd with the other twelve-year-olds. I walk to the front. It's interesting, the way the roped-off sections are set up. The eighteen-year-olds stand closest to the stage with the younger kids behind, almost as if they're protecting them from the Games. Not that the kids in Two need the protection.
"It's such a pleasure to be back in District Two this year!" gushes Ida. Her hair is a bright shade of yellow this year, and she has on a sunny dress on to match. Really stands out in the middle of the threatening weather. I notice how much makeup she has on and glance up at the stormclouds.
Stay focused. I tell myself, and turn my attention back to the stage. Ida has just introduced the mayor, and I'm too late to clap. His speech is long and elaborate, just as it is every year. The mayor of our district has a way with words, and loves to take advantage of reaping day. I don't usually mind, but today I wish he'd get on with it.
"That was wonderful!" says Ida as she finally takes back the microphone. She turns to the audience. "Now, I'll bet you're excited to see which lucky boy and girl will represent your district in the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games!" A great cheer rises up from the crowd. Ida beams.
"Let's start with the girls this year!" She crosses the stage and plunges her hand into the girls' reaping ball. Then, she picks out a single slip and breaks the seal with her fingernails.
"Cloelia Willemsen!" she calls. A girl with pale-blonde hair starts to walk up from the sixteen-year-olds, when another voice rings out.
"I volunteer as tribute!" Everyone turns to see who shouted. A short girl with jet-black hair and a freckled face stands in the center of the aisle. And she's not supposed to be there.
"Ah, marvelous! A volunteer!" Ida motions for the girl to come up to the stage. The crowd begins to murmur.
"What's your name, sweetie?" the escort asks with a smile.
"Clove Mallon," says the girl. This isn't right. The trainers were saving her for the Quarter Quell.
In District Two, if they don't let you past the tribute trials, you can't volunteer. It's dishonorable; disgraceful, even. Is that what she wants?
"And now, the boys!" What if the same thing happens to me? Clove volunteered. Anyone can take my place, if they want to be a tribute badly enough. Ida reaches into the other reaping ball and pulls out a slip of paper.
"Tullus—!"
"I volunteer!" I shout, pushing my way into the aisle before Ida can finish reading the name.
"Another volunteer!" The escort smiles. "I expect nothing less from District Two!" At the end of her sentence, I'm climbing the last step.
"And what's your name?" she asks me.
"Cato," I say into the microphone. "I'm Cato Bailor."
"Fabulous!" Ida exclaims. "Everyone, give your new tributes a round of applause! Let's hear it for Clove Mallon and Cato Bailor!"
Tributes. I made it. I can't help but smile.
"Cato?" I'm just admiring the elaborately furnished room in the Justice Building when I hear my mother's voice. And it's a surprise.
"You came to see me." Try as I might, I can't hide the edge of bitterness in my voice. I've only seen her a few times a year since I was twelve. My father was killed in the quarry that year. A few months later, I was sent to live at the Training Center full-time.
"Cato, of course I came to see you!" I can hear tears in her voice, but they're not for me. She can lie all she wants. It doesn't change the fact that when she looks at me, she sees him.
"Yeah."
"I wanted to come and…And wish you luck." Maybe I should be touched. But then, there's the fact that it brings her pain to be standing in the same room as me. Because I do resemble my father. Blonde hair, blue eyes, even a similar voice.
"Thanks," I say flatly.
"He'd be proud," she tells me. "You're so—"
"So much like him. I get it," I say. Six years later, and I'm still just a reminder. My mother's eyes narrow.
"No. You're brave," she says, "It was brave, volunteering for the Games. I don't think your father would've—" she breaks off. I open my mouth to say something, but I can't find the words. She gives me a kiss on the forehead. Soon enough, I'm alone again.
The next visitor is expected. Rufus.
"You did it!" he exclaims.
"Yeah."
"What's the matter?" he asks.
"Nothing. I'm fine." I put on a smile. Looking slightly doubtful, Rufus continues.
"Are you excited for the Capitol?"
"It'll be…interesting." I choose my words carefully.
"If everyone there looks like Ida, definitely," says Rufus. I laugh.
We talk for a while. Not about strategy. Not even about the Games. Just talk, as if it were a normal day. When the Peacekeeper opens the door and tells Rufus to leave, he throws his arms around me.
"Don't get killed," he says. I crack a smile.
"I'll try my best."
After Rufus goes, I have to head to the train. As I'm walking out of the Justice Building, though, I realize I've forgotten something. A token. Shoot.
As Clove and I are led to a car, I bend down and pick up a rock from the ground. Better a meaningless piece of home than nothing at all. I put it in my pocket as I get in the car.
Here goes.
Hope you all enjoyed Cato's POV! The next chapter will be the beginning of Part 1, and the end if I decide to make it short. It will be called "You Know The Story", and will be canon. Please review! :D