I woke up at 10, relishing in the treat of sleeping past my usual 6:30 am alarm. Mother had tried to wake me up at 8 to help her clean but I shook her off; I felt like I deserved to sleep on this day. I would be the female tribute this year. We held secret elections, students only, two months before the actual reaping. I had campaigned the most out of the other girls and was the youngest to win since they began. We had rules, of course: no one under 15 could run, no posters, no telling anyone over 18, no trying to volunteer after the election winner has done so.
The girls weren't told who the male tribute winner was but we all had an idea. Cato Broadsword had been campaigning for years. He's 16, huge and one of the fiercest fighters I've ever seen. It doesn't hurt that he's also gorgeous. He has dark blond hair, he's about 6'4, ripped and he has blue-gray eyes. He's so strong; he flings blocks of metal around like they don't weigh a thing. I always hear him bragging about how much he can lift. Last time it was 200 pounds. Give the guy a sword and he could kill an entire platoon of Peacekeepers on his own. Give him a stick and he could probably kill anyone, maybe even me. If I didn't have a knife that is.
I have been throwing knives for years. It has nothing to so with becoming a Peacekeeper, my future of choice if I didn't win the election, or doing well in school. It only has a small amount to do with my future as Victor, as it will be my ride there. I love the concentration it requires; I love how it makes my parents proud of me. The only time my father ever told me he loved me was after I won first place at the factory picnic. He's the manager and never knew how good I was until that day. Most of all I love the attention it gets me at school; the girls are jealous of me but ask me to teach them, the boys are afraid to get on my bad side. I like that no one messes with me but it means I don't get asked out as often as I'd like. No that's not true. I get asked out a lot, just never by the person I want.
It's not because I'm ugly, because I'm not. I'm not the prettiest girl in class either, her name is Cassie Bulletsmith. I'm not the nicest girl in school, her name is Steel Markson. I am the tiniest girl in class, Clove Mason. I am 5'0 and weigh 97lbs. I have tried to put on weight but it's hard to do when the bulk of your weight is already muscle and the heaviest thing besides that is the hair on your head.
No matter how much I eat the only thing that grows is my hair. It's thick and dark brown and goes to the small of my back. I wanted to cut it all off but Mother won't allow me to. It's one of the few parts of my life that she actually cares about. Mother doesn't work; she takes care of the household meaning she runs the maids into the ground, screams at the cook and nags at me about my hair and my clothing. She says we have to keep up appearances, which means that no I cannot cut my hair short into the Peacekeeper bob I want and no I cannot wear comfortable clothes to school. She picks out my clothes every night and brushes my hair as often as I will allow her. Other than that I am invisible to Mother.
I'm an only child so I do get the things I ask for. That usually just means new knives. I spend almost all of my allowance on knives. I have two reasons for this; one being my love of throwing, the other being Cato. Cato's father makes the best knives in the district. He sells me some of the nicest ones, calls me his best customer. He makes me specialty knives too. My favorite is a carved white crystal knife with a point so thin I can carve toothpicks with it. I wear it around my neck on a chain, so I'm always prepared. Mr. Broadsword told me he wasn't sure who carved it but it must have been a labor of love. The knife in question had vines crawling up and down the blade with tiny flowers attached and my name in perfect script in the center. The handle was wrapped in red suede with a braided loop at the top. The extraordinary thing about the knife is that its no longer than my little finger. It's the most beautiful thing I own.
But as I said I also go there to see Cato. He runs the counter at his father's store so he's always there when I go to get my little treats. He never pays me very much attention but I don't blame him; I am ordinary whereas he's desirable. He's the most handsome boy in our grade, he's the strongest and he has a line of girls going after him constantly. The strange thing is that Cato never goes out with any of them. He's polite about it too, he never laughs at the girls or tries to do anything with them before he tells him no. He goes out with his friends sometimes but he's always there when I go in for my knives. He always seems startled when I walk in and he gets flustered if I say hello to him first. Cato just sits on his stool behind the counter, fiddling with something in his hands and waiting for another customer. I try to be slick about stealing glances at him while we're so close to each other. In school it's different; there are so many other people I could be looking at or that he could be looking at that he wouldn't notice tiny Clove staring up at him. I could simply be staring at the ceiling; I have to crane my neck at the same angle to look at Cato's face anyway. But here in the tiny shop where it's just he and I while his father is fetching things for me to consider I have to be more careful. The only time we've spoken more than a few words was the day I plucked up the courage to ask him if he was running for the tribute election. His face lit up when he told me yes, but it fell quite a bit when I told him I was as well. It had hurt my feelings at the time. I thought he was judging me for a weakling or simply didn't want me for a district partner. He had started to say something but then his father walked back into the room and I never knew what it was.
But today was Reaping Day, I had been looking forward to it ever since I won the election. I still had no idea who the male tribute would be and I was nervous. I hoped it wouldn't be someone I couldn't work with. Most of all I was hoping it wasn't Cato. I didn't want him in the arena, it would ruin my plans. I needed to remain focused and keep my head in the game at all times; Cato would be an unwelcome distraction. I needed him to stay home because I had hoped that if I could win The Hunger Games then I would be desirable to him and he would notice me. I figure if I could win The Games then telling Cato how I felt would be no big deal.
I got up with him on my mind, had spent too much time dreaming and day dreaming about him this morning. I hoped in the shower to wash it all out of my head and began to dress for the Reaping. Mother had picked out my outfit as usual; a dark green dress with a brown belt and matching shoes. I got dressed and walked out of my room to the parlor where Mother and Father were sitting. I asked if she could help me with my hair which made her unusually happy. Usually she didn't smile at me so much, she was acting strangely. I shrugged it off to her chat with my father. They really did love each other so when they were together they were both usually happier than when I'm alone with one of them. Mother brushed my hair and carefully wrapped the ends of each section around her special curlers. They heated up so the curls would stay in place longer. I was surprised when she put them in my hair but I said nothing. When she was finished she told me to go sit down someplace and stay still, she would finish with my hair before we left. She came back twenty minutes later to remove the curlers and she placed a small gold clip in my hair, pulling some away from my face. Mother was paying special attention to me today. Must be because of the cameras I thought at the time.
We left the house and went to the square in front of the Justice Building. We all checked in and I went to stand in the roped off area for the other 16 year olds. I was technically still 15 but I was turning 16 in 2 days. I would spend my birthday on the train ride to the Capitol. We all stood chattering lightly about the outfits, the escort and the assortment of former Victors on the stage. District 2 has so many that they have to decide who will go after the Reaping has been completed. While all of these thoughts were floating through my mind our escort stepped on stage. Lucy Diamond took the microphone with the usual escort welcome. " Happy Hunger Games District 2 and may the odds be ever in your favor." she said in that horribly squeaky voice of hers, smiling down at all of us. She went through the usual speech about the Treaty and read off the names of the previous Victors. Finally she got to the part we had all been waiting for. " Ladies first" she called out and teetered on her sky-high heels over to the Reaping bowl. Plunging her arm in and circling the bowl like a pariah she finally found a slip she liked. Strolling back to the microphone she undid the sticker, smoothed out the slip and read " Clove Mason". I froze, this is what I wanted, I wanted to be a Tribute but right now all I wanted to do was hide in my bed and never come out again. I stood there for a few seconds trying desperately to remember that that was actually my name when one of my friends gave me a nudge and I snapped to my senses. I walked up to the stage, up the steps and to Miss Diamond. I stood as everyone clapped for me, looking down in to the faces of my friends, my parents and my District. I was waiting for Lucy to pick the male Tribute's name so we could get going when finally she had found another slip she liked. She walked back to the microphone and read out in a calm but obviously excited voice " Seth Hammerton" Seth walked up and people clapped, but I was waiting because I knew this boy was not the election winner; he hadn't even run. Finally Lucy asked for a volunteer and I heard his voice.
Cato Broadsword had volunteered to be the male Tribute.
Cato walked on to the stage and introduced himself with his usual smug smile. But as the mayor stepped up and told us to shake hands I saw something I had never seen in Cato's eyes before. Fear, nerves, disgust and worse of all something I could not place. It made his eyes soft around the center but all of the other feelings made the blue hard as ice. I almost took a step back but I could not show weakness, I could not let everyone see how I was feeling. That was not part of the plan. I had to remain cold, unattached and emotionless; it was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Especially with Cato's warm, large hand wrapped around mine. He looked at me and as he shook my hand he carefully laid two fingers along the veins in my wrist. I stared at him incredulously. Was he taking my pulse to see if I was nervous? I silently willed my heart to stop beating so quickly but I decided to copy his gesture. His wrist was softer than I had expected and his pulse was so strong the veins were throbbing. May I add that all of this happened in a matter of 20 seconds? It was the strangest thing but it felt like time had slowed down, to give me this brief closeness to him before I had to write off all romantic feelings for the boy.
Finally the ceremony was over. We were ushered into the Justice Building by two Peacekeepers along with our families, the escort and the Victors. The line of Victors took turns asking us questions and looking for physical weaknesses; as expected they found none. Then they took off in to one of the rooms with a long table and many chairs. Cato and I were then placed into two separate rooms where our parents were waiting. I strolled in to mine and walked past both of my parents to sit on the large desk near the window. They stood a few feet away but neither had said anything, they just gaped at me. They never expected tiny Clove to become a Tribute, but I proved them wrong. After all doing so was my favorite hobby. Finally my mother came to me and said " If I had known I would have picked out the red dress, it's your best color. Make sure you tell your stylists that, and tell them that if they cut a single hair on your head I will come to the Capitol and shave their heads." With that she stepped out of the room where I heard her request a piece of paper and a pen. She didn't even say goodbye to me. Well its not like I expected anything different. But my father was still staring at me. I didn't know what to do so I got up and closed the door behind mother and just stood by it. Finally my father said " Make us proud Clove, I know you can. Your mother and I love you, even if we don't say it." He finished his little speech just as Mother re-entered the room. She handed my her note and pointed to what she had written: " Do not open until the night of the interviews." With that she patted my hair back in to place and silently left the room.
A few of my friends stopped by and said their goodbyes. No one stuck out in particular until Mr. and Mrs. Broadsword walked in. They walked in and sat on the couch, barely looking my way. I waited for someone to say something for at least 3 minutes when finally Mr. Broadsword said " I'll miss selling knives to you Clove, you're my best customer." I looked up and quietly replied "I'll miss buying them from you Sir. I'm sure the knives in the Arena won't compare to yours." He smiled and gave me a small hug, then quickly left the room. His small wife sat very still staring at me with extremely familiar eyes. It took me a moment to place them but she had the same eyes as her son. She looked down into her lap and whispered something I could barely make out. I stood and walked over to her slowly, as not to frighten her. I sat on the couch next to her and said " I'm sorry but I couldn't hear you, are you trying to tell me something?" She nodded and sat up straighter. She looked straight in to my eyes and whispered " My son carved your knife. The one around your neck." My hand went to the knife at my neck and I stared at her, my eyes wide. She continued on "He spent 2 months working on it. I thought you deserved to know." With that she sped out of the room at such a speed that I barely had time to process her words.
Cato had made this for me?