I glance at Cato, his lips suppressing a smile. As he gets up, his burly figure draws attention, and strides over to the sword station, his all time favourite.

No, I think, It's my turn today.

"Again?" I sigh, and he narrows his eyes, "We seem to be doing sword training every day. What about..."

"Let me guess- knives?" He grins but rolls his eyes. I can't tell if he's pleased or simply annoyed.

I walk over to him, and whisper, "Maybe."

I quickly back away towards the knife throwing station before he could argue.

Cato sighs and reluctantly follows me.

I've always excelled with knife throwing, and there's no doubt. It seems impossible how someone so small could throw with such accuracy. Although, I don't like to be judged. For a fifteen year old, I'm quite small. Despite this, I have skills that will wipe out almost everyone if we were in the Hunger Games, except Cato, whose strength will overcome any skills. To be in the games with him would be a nightmare. There's no doubt he'd win.

I go first, throwing with perfect accuracy as usual under the watchful eye of our trainer, who is soon to rank us before we attend the reaping. Only people in the top ten are able to volunteer, the only other way to go into the games is to be reaped. Although in our district, there are volunteers almost every year.

Cato goes next, throwing at the target with such power that makes anyone shudder. But still, he didn't hit the target.

After collecting his knives from the target, he groans and glares at me.

Now it's my turn to shudder. As great of friends as we are, he scares me sometimes.

"Cato I... lets just go. It's lunchtime anyway."

Still glaring at me menacingly he turns to the lunch room and we re-unite with our peers.

"Look Clove, I'm sorry. I just don't want to be judged wrongly. The trainers can't misjudge me. It won't happen." He stares at me, his face sorry and resentful.

"It's okay. Wait," something catches my attention, "Cato, you're not thinking of volunteering, are you?"

He sighs, and lowers his glance, "Possibly."

Pain strikes my heart. But no, no, I don't think of him that way. I won't. I can't. Sure, he's strong but something makes me reconsider the fact that he's certain to get out there alive. There are other districts. And five more careers, as bloodthirsty as him. Or is it that I care about him? That even if he does win, he'll possibly ignore me, and there will be no friendship. That he'll just abandon us for riches.

And there is the fact that I may want to volunteer myself. Its always been something I've considered, maybe even desired. To go in the games would be a risk but I have the skills to win. And if I do, imagine the pride I would bring to my district. The fame, the riches. It would be glory in its best. The thought is tempting.

"Cato, I'm not sure if that's a good idea. You still have a year to think about it. I don't know..." My voice drifts off as he curiously stares at me.

"Why is that?" His voice has become playful and happy, "Would you miss me?"

The blush that illuminates my cheeks can't be helped. And there's no way I can hide it. "No. I just think that if you're determined to win, maybe another year of training would really benefit for you."

"Or..." He teases, "You care about me. Yep. I think that's it."

I try to look away but his big eyes draw me back to him, and I just shake my head.

"Ok then. If you insist."

The atmosphere of the room becomes awkward and suddenly everyone is silent. Any noise would echo in the silence.

Loud heels slam to the ground as the owner of the center walks over to the notice board.

Everyone knows what happening. The ranking has been listed for everyone to see. Cato stiffens next to me, nervous for the result, hoping that his name is listed.

"Should we go?" I ask and he nods.

I slowly rise from my seat, leaving my lunch on the table. If I don't get picked, it's fine with me. I've taken the tesserae so my chances are higher and I still have a few years to make the cut. It's not as important to me than with Cato. It's all he wants, and he's determined to get in the arena.

As we walk, I try to make conversation but it's no use. Whenever he answers a question, his voice catches with the nervousness of the moment. If he doesn't get listed, there is nothing to satisfy his needs.

I'm separated from Cato as the crowd gathers and I'm at the list before him. My eyes scan the list, looking for my name when I spot it. My smile is enormous.

Clove Kentwell.

Just what I want. The top two- boys. A boy I don't know and Cato.

Cato. As happy as I feel for him, I feel unhappy. This is my year, my games. And I'm determined.

And I'm going to win.