Worthless and Forgettable

And there's the clincher. Cato. The most popular boy in school, the Golden boy of the district. If anyone could win the Hunger Games, it would be him. And I find I cant even bring myself to hate him, even though I know all the sponsors we might get would go to him, all the support from our District would be for him.

I was entirely forgettable.

No-one had protested when he Volunteered. No-one had even looked upset that their Golden boy would be going into the arena to fight for the death. They all thought they had a winner on their hands, and it excited them. I couldn't say I blamed them; if I wasn't also going to be risking my life, I know I would be just as excited as they were.

There would be a party in the District tonight, a party in our honour. Or rather, in Cato's honour. Because when he stepped up on the stage, no-one seemed to remember I was there. A great swell of cheers and exuberant claps for Cato and I was left just standing there. It didn't matter really. I was dead. I was dead before I had even been chosen. There could be no way I could possibly win. But Cato could. Cato could bring our District the glory and fame that came with being a Victor. I was just here as a formality.

When we were ushered into the Justice Building I stayed silent, letting them lead me into my goodbye room with out a sound. Cato didn't even look at me, only confirming my suspicions that I was not needed. He could easily go to the Capitol and take out the entire field of Tributes in two days, if it wasn't for me. Because we were the Careers. And the Careers always stuck together, always hunted down the other Tributes in a pack.

My parents came by and they hugged me, not saying much. They told me that I had to make sure Cato came back and I sat there and nodded, my heart slowly breaking as I realised that even my own family didn't believe I could win. When they left my room, I sat in silence again, struggling not to cry. My death would be worthless. I was worthless.

After my parents were gone, no-one else came to say goodbye. It wasn't that I was unpopular; I had plenty of friends. But Cato was better than I could possibly be and I knew without having to be told, they were all in Cato's room. I understood their thoughts: why waste your time and say goodbye to both tributes when only one could come back? But I still hated them. Hated that they didn't have the heart to come and say goodbye to me when I was going off to my death.

Worthless and Forgettable.

I waited until someone came to collect me and let them push me into a car. Cato was already in on one side and our Escort sat in between us, a chattering wall that neither Cato nor I could be bothered listening to. He told us about what we were going to expect when we got to the Capitol, and how fantastic we would find everything from the fantastic food to the fantastic rooms to the fantastic training facilities to the fantastic servants.

I had a feeling he found everything fantastic.

When he started talking about how fantastic it was to have a winner in his District, his body slightly turned as he addressed Cato directly, I decided I'd had enough.

I whirled on him, whipping out a knife I kept hidden in my sleeve and held it up to his throat. He choked on his words and I felt a vindictive satisfaction at the fact that his eyes were bulging from his sockets.

"I'm thinking maybe you should stop talking now," Cato snickered and he caught my eye for just a moment. And in that moment, I considered smiling back, trying to be friends with the Golden boy. But then I decided I didn't need his help. I pulled my knife away, concealing it up my sleeve as we pulled up to the station. Without being helped, I shoved through the door and stormed to the waiting train, shaking with barely contained rage.

Cato sauntered over, completely ignoring the crowds that were shouting his name, and stood by my side. When the train opened it's doors to let us in, I disappeared inside without glancing at my District. I didn't need a parting gift of their ongoing love for Cato. To my surprise though, Cato followed my lead and the doors were shut. My last glimpse of home was through a small window and I snorted, the irony only becoming clear to me as we pulled away from the station.

It was all Worthless and Forgettable. Just like me.

I didn't bother waiting for our Mentors to enter. Why bother, when they would both be working together to bring Cato home. So instead I slipped down the corridors, finding one of the Avox servants that our Escort told us would be 'fantastic' and ordered them to show me to my room. They obliged quickly, and I slipped inside, murmuring a quiet thank you as the door closed.

When I was alone, I stumbled to the bathroom, only just making it the toilet before I heaved up everything I had eaten for breakfast.

Trembling and half sobbing, I didn't hear the door open. I became aware that someone was standing in the door frame of my bathroom and I glanced up to see Cato staring down at me in pity in the reflection from the mirror. I moaned, wiping my mouth with my sleeve.

"What are you doing here?" I manage to spit out, all my dignity gone.

He didn't answer, just busied himself at the sink. I sunk back on my knees and laid my cheek on the cold porcelain of the toilet, feeling my face burning red. Of all the people to see me like this, it had to be Cato. It was just embarrassing.

After a few moments he crouched down beside me, pulling me backwards so I was lying in his arms. Before I could protest, he locked my arms down to my sides and wiped at my mouth with a hot towel. I squirmed in his arms, struggling against his tight hold. He didn't budge up, folding the towel in a square and dabbing at my face gently.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" I snarled, struggling to break free from his hold. He ignored me, tossing the towel over his head. He rocked back on his heels and scooped me into his arms effortlessly and I thrashed violently. Without a word he carried me back out into the main room, his arms tightening around my waist ever so slightly so I didn't buck out of them.

He laid me down onto the bed softly and patted my forehead gently, stepping back quickly to dodge my sudden punch. I arched my back and pushed myself up so I was crouched on the bed on the balls of my feet, poised to attack. He chuckled, watching me curiously.

I leapt at him when I was sure he wouldn't expect it and his eyes widened with surprise when I landed on his chest, sending him crashing to the floor. I pulled my blade from my sleeve and pressed it gently to his neck, not deep enough to break the skin, but with just enough pressure that he knew it was there.

"I don't need your pity, Cato," I said quietly, staring directly into his eyes. He nodded, reached up slowly, so as not to startle me I think, and gently pulled my hands away. He wrestled for my knife for a moment and I resisted for just a second before giving it to him. Better he has it than I, since I was in such a mood I would probably use it to kill someone before the Games had even started. He smiled at me, a sudden thing that lit up his entire face and I blinked in shock at his sudden mood change.

"I'm not giving you pity. I'm offering you my hand in friendship," he said simply. His hands slipped down to my waist and he sat up slowly, holding me close to him. I stared into his eyes for a while and decided that maybe, just maybe, I could be friends with this popular Golden Boy from my District. He really did have the best intentions I supposed. And it wasn't his fault that, when I was compared to him, I was instantly forgettable. It wasn't his fault that I was seen as someone who would only get in the way of his chances of fame and glory.

He left me a while later. We hadn't talked much. We hadn't needed to. He seemed to understand that words were not what I wanted and he'd held me close, not saying anything. It was nice. Peaceful even.

It was a side of Cato that I'd never seen. A side I don't think anyone in our District had seen. Cato, all swagger and muscle. Cato, loud and flashy. Cato, always in the spotlight, always being featured. This softer side was quiet, caring, gentle. It was special. And I selfishly wanted it to be mine. A side of Cato only I could see. If nothing else, at least the Capitol could give me that.

Our District was close to the Capitol so the train ride wasn't too long. A few hours, tops. Before long we were pulling into the station and the excited cheers from the Capitol freaks that lined the footpaths gradually grew louder as we drew close.

I reached for my knife before remembering Cato had it. It was weird not being with it. It was kind of like a sixth finger, an extension to my hand. Whenever I was nervous it never failed to soothe me with its shiny blade and wicked sharp edge. I don't know why knives calmed me so much. You would think a girl my age would be more comfortable playing with dolls or something. But ever since I could walk I've always had a fascination for knives.

They were, as our Escort would put it, fantastic.

I stumbled out of my room, running my fingers through my hair groggily. When I appeared in the doorway to the main compartment, I felt four pairs of eyes land on me. Enobria and Brutus, our mentors for the Games. Our Escort, who looked away in terror as soon as I caught his eye and I couldn't help but smile a little. And of course Cato, his blue eyes watching me with a bit too much caution than I cared for. Like he was worried I might break down on him or something.

We were all silent when we pulled up to the station and the train finally came to a stop. Then Enobria was suddenly bustling around us, pushing us closer and telling us to 'smile and wave and make them love us.' All of which sounds a lot easier than it actually was. My legs began to shake as I thought about having to step off the train and walk through that crowd. For a moment, the entire carriage was shrouded in darkness and I felt Cato's hand slip into mine, squeezing it once for comfort, before the lights came on and the doors opened and Cato's hand was gone.

Just that moment of brief physical connection was enough though and I took a deep breath, smiling a more natural smile. 'I'm at the zoo,' I told myself. 'This isn't the capitol, it's the zoo. And they aren't the citizens of Panem, they are silly peacocks and other wild creatures that I am looking at. They can't hurt me. Not when they're in cages.' Thinking of them as animals seemed to work for me because within minutes we were inside a big building and the cheers and screams were completely cut off.

I sighed in relief and shot Cato a grateful look. He nodded his head just barely and I looked away. I hadn't wanted his help but I needed it. I needed his courage for being able to do crazy things without fear of judgement. He was good with people. I was good with solitude. And my knives. I was excellent with my knives.

We were shown into separate rooms, much like when we were getting our final goodbyes. Only this time, instead of comforting wooden panels and comfortable chairs that smelled like home, the room was steel walled with cold concrete floor with a stiff gurney like bed and the smell of disinfectant saturated the air.

I suddenly felt claustrophobic when the door shut behind me and I heard a lock click. I lunged at the door, my small frame doing next to nothing against the steel. On impact, my arms began to ache painfully and I wondered dully if I'd broken it. Wouldn't that be just fantastic when I went into the Arena.

In pain I stumbled backwards, cursing my stupidity. Why would they have a room that someone could easily escape from? Where would be the fun? It would be a pain to have to replace a Tribute at this early stage and I considered knocking myself unconscious but decided against it. More likely they would just force me awake. And if by some miracle I was sent back home, which was unlikely to happen, I would be the laughing stock of the District. Sent home on the first day because I managed to knock myself out.

The door opened and I whirled around, raising my fists to fight before remembering I wasn't at home. I was in the Capitol. Which was ironically the safest place in Panem. Three of the most extravagantly dressed Capitol residents I'd seen by far tottered over and began to titter over me, feeling my arms, legs, waist and face. They pulled me over to the gurney and forced me onto my back, two of them holding me down while the last stripped me down until I was completely naked.

No-one had prepared me for this and suddenly I was bucking on the table, desperate to escape. I saw one of the ones holding me down murmur something unintelligible to the other and they both nodded, turning to the other expectantly. He shook his head, inspecting something on a metal tray they had brought over with them.

When he turned to me holding a sick looking paste I wondered what on earth they were and stopped my struggles for a moment. Then they started to put the past everywhere except my neck and face, covering almost every inch of my body. I watched them apply strips of white things on top and I asked them what they were doing, my voice strained.

They all ignored me, and without warning, one of the strips was suddenly yanked off, pulling most of the hair from my arms with it. I began to buck again, deciding this was the most cruel an unusual punishment in the world. My teeth were gritted against the pain so I didn't scream, but pained gasps escaped me a lot.

When it was over I collapsed backwards on my gurney, panting from the effort. I'm sure if I'd co-operated better it probably wouldn't have hurt as much but I didn't even care. When they lifted me and carried me into a bath filled with thick creamy water, I scrabbled at the shirts, desperate to not be put into it. Who knew what the fouls smelling water would do to me. Dye my skin green? Leave me with scales? I didn't want to know.

But they dumped me in regardless and I cried out in shock, the water feeling too heavy on my skin. I tried to sit up but they pushed me back in with such force that my head was fully submerged. I came back up, choking for air and sputtering the foul water from my mouth, and was almost grateful when they pulled me out, until they carried me back to the gurney for another round of the hair pulling.

Three times I was dunked into that stupid bath. By the end of it, I was breathless and panting, struggling to catch my breath. My skin was completely hairless and as silky as satin, and I hated it.

They began to work on my hair, my eyebrows, my nails and finally, after what seemed like days, they were finished. They all tottered out, tittering cheerfully to themselves, pleased that they had done such a splendid job. I disagreed. But at least it was over.

Finally able to sit up without constraints, I looked around for my clothes, reaching for my shirt desperately when the door opened and Cato stepped in. In horror I covered my chest with my arm, ducking my head in embarrassment. He was completely naked also and escorted by two more crazily dressed Capitol people. I looked away when he sat beside me and one of his escorts slapped my arm down.

"What took yours so long," Cato murmured when the two turned away to discuss their options. I looked at him and was pleased he had the good grace to be looking at my face and not... Anywhere else. "Apparently hairless Egyptian cats are in fashion here," I muttered back, relaxing slightly when he chuckled. I glanced at his arms, feeling suddenly envious when I realised he was allowed to keep his hair.

Our two crazy attendants began to talk to us very quickly, telling us about our costumes and I realised they were our stylists. They hurried away to a rack of clothes that I hadn't even noticed until now before tittering cheerfully on their way back to us. There was a few minutes where they just squeezed our arms and inspected every inch of our bodies and I struggled to keep my chin up as my face went furiously red. Obviously being naked in the Capitol was not an uncommon thing.

I had to say, the sight of the clothes on the racks did calm me down a little. It meant that we would be wearing something, no matter how skimpy, to the Opening Ceremonies. And I counted this as a blessing because I'd seen many a tribute go up in those big black horse drawn carriages without a scrap of clothing on. And they were expected to stand tall, shoulders back, and revel in the glory of their body.

I wouldn't be able to do that if I tried.

They helped us into our costumes, chatting away merrily, first to us, then to each other when they realised we didn't give a damn about their silly little extravagant lives. Sure, District 2 was very close with the Capitol, closer than the other other Districts definitely, but that didn't mean I had to care what they were saying. I rubbed a spot on my wrist where my knife was usually hidden and I wondered what had happened to it. Surely, Cato's crew of helpers had confiscated it or something, and my heart panged hopelessly. Could I not have anything in this stupid place from home? Not my hair, not my knife, not my privacy, not my dignity.

Only when we were fully dressed did they shut up (thank god) and then they both turned to me. Their quick fingers fiddled with my hair and I struggled to keep my face blank as they tugged sections almost out of my head. It was one thing to throw a tantrum when I was alone. In front of Cato, especially after how I acted on the train, was another thing entirely. That moment of weakness I'd inadvertently let him see was not something I wanted him to ever witness again.

When I thought it was finally over I heaved a weary sigh of relief. Of course, it couldn't be over too soon. Because when our Stylists turned back to us, they held make-up in their hand. I blanched, suddenly hating my life more than I had a few hours ago. I'd take the pain of a thousand hairs being ripped from my skin over being made up like a porcelain doll I had seen in the shop windows back home.

I considered running. But one look at my shoes, big clunky golden boots, made me dismiss that thought immediately. Sure, I was fast. But these boots were heavy, dangling off the side of my gurney half a meter from the ground, almost dragging me from my seat. I wouldn't get to the door before one of the Stylists dragged me back. So I sat in silence, screwing my nose up in irritation when they started on my eye make-up.

I didn't look in the mirror when we left, feeling absolutely ridiculous in my heavy golden outfit. But I waited in the doorway for Cato who stood admiring himself from every angle until I stormed over and dragged him away.

Self righteous arse.

Gathered around our Chariot, Enobria and Brutus murmured encouraging things like 'stand straight, chin up' and 'don't forget to smile sweetie'. I tuned them out, watching the other tributes file in looking absolutely ridiculous in their costumes.

At least from looking at Cato I knew we looked strong and powerful, since he looked like a gladiator. But I noticed that from District 8 the tributes were dressed as clowns, or jesters, or some other similarly dressed figure. And from District 5, they looked like big sparkly power lines. Nothing made me giggle as much as District 1 though. The girl looked smashing and I glared at her jealously when I realised Cato had noticed her too. But the boy looked completely ridiculous, decked out in pink, sparkling pink. He even had a fluffy pink boa. He held his head high though and he and his partner talked cheerfully to each other as if they loved their outfits. Fools. Even District 8 looked better than them, and that was saying something.

Cato nudged me when District 12 came in and I looked at them in awe. They were decked out in all black, with the girls hair done up beautifully on her head. Her stylist was talking to her quietly and she nodded, flicking her head over to us as if she could feel our eyes on her. I put on my best sneer and crossed my arms across my chest, staring at her with as much pompousness as I could muster. I needn't have bothered. Her eyes flicked dismissively over me and landed on Cato curiously. His eyes were narrowed and his head tilted down slightly, as if he were looking down on her. She turned away, a flicker of fear in her eyes.

I felt like hitting something. I knew how worthless I was next to Cato. But this girl had dismissed me so quickly, as if I wasn't even a threat. I stroked my wrist, itching for a knife. She would be mine. A satisfying kill if any kill could be.

When we were all loaded onto our chariots, Enobria took my hand, capturing my attention.

"Ignore the crowds sweetie. They are beneath your notice. Just look powerful. Strong. You are District 2, and you are not to be overlooked," she told me earnestly. I nodded and she freed my hand. I began to tremble as the nerves kicked in and Cato slipped his hand into mine like he had on the train. We weren't moving yet so I looked to him desperately, calming down immediately when my eyes were locked on his.

"Just relax Clove. You'll be fantastic," he murmured. The carriages began to move and he dropped my hand. As one we turned to face the front. We placed our hands on the rail in front of us and stared straight ahead, chin up, shoulders back. When our pictures appeared on the big screen I couldn't help but admire how powerful we looked, decked out in heavy golden gladiator outfits. Though I hated make up I had to admit our Stylists had done a fantastic job. We didn't look like the fragile dolls. We looked like powerful fighters.

And then we were gone from the screen and the crowd suddenly went wild. Surely not for District 3. No. On the screen. The tributes from District 12. They were on fire.

It was then that I realised that I didn't need to worry about Cato. Next to him I was Worthless and Forgettable. But compared to these alien looking creatures from 12, we were as harmless as a new born puppy. Beside me, Cato stiffened, the muscles on his arms tightening and I knew he realised this too. The two from District 12 were ruining everything. The natural order of the tributes was disrupted as soon as they had appeared. And they must be stopped.

When we got off our chariots, Enobria and Brutus were by our sides instantly, showering us with praise. But we both ignored them, glaring at the Girl who was on fire. Her district partner looked lost and I knew why. Even though he was on fire, he couldn't do the whole 'strong and defiant' routine that his partner was so good at. He was entirely Forgettable next to her. I knew how that felt.

Her stylist hugged her when the flames went out and began to talk to her before their mentor, Haymitch (who was apparently famous for taking a head dive off the stage at the Reaping), tapped her shoulder, pointing at us.

We both crossed our arms and glared at her. Although for all the attention she paid to me, I may as well been invisible. She nodded to us, or rather, to Cato, and followed Haymitch to one of the elevators. Cocky bitch. I'd show her that I was not someone to overlook so easily.

And suddenly, these Games had meaning to me. It wouldn't be just about helping Cato in any way I could. It would be about me, proving to her, to the Capitol, to everyone back home and everyone across Panem; I was a contender. And I was going to fight my arse off to prove it.