Author's Note: Swords and Knives was created when I felt like I owe it to Cato to tell his story - this is his side of the story which follows the Hunger Games book and movie plot as well as my CLATO story, The Games We Play. Go ahead and read that too! Anyway, read and review!
Chapter 1
Boy
"Be strong for your mother."
My father always left me with advices – little thoughts – before he would go off to the train that would bring him away for his mission. You see, he was a Peacekeeper. I always kept them in mind and tried to memorize them. This first one, at least that is what I could remember, was something he told me when I was seven. After he told me this, my mother and I would accompany him to the train station and we would not see him for a long time. I told myself that I would be strong for my mother.
So I did.
"Be the man of the house while I'm gone."
I was nine when my father returned home. He was much older than I remembered; his blond hair was turning grey and there were lines on his face. I didn't focus much on this, I was just happy he was home. But he was only home for a couple of days, he had to leave. He gave me an advice again before he gave my mother a kiss and me, a pat on the head.
With my father's advice, I tried to become a man so I insisted to help out where my mother was working. She worked part-time in a factory where they made weapons for the Peacekeepers and I would hang out there after school. My mother would earn a bit and I would too – the workers liked my enthusiasm.
"You there!"
I lifted my head and turned around, I was anxious to see whose voice that was. The factory was not exactly a silent working place so I had already memorized the voices of those who were employed here. This one was new.
It was Ram, the head trainer of all four Career Centers. I knew who he was, of course. He was unmistakable with his large stature and that deep scar across his right cheek – apparently it had been from a brawl he had been involved with when he was young. He was looking at me, which was surprising since the men working around me were big and muscular and I was…not exactly that.
Ram stopped by my station, which was filled with different gun parts to be cleaned before getting constructed into a real weapon. He looked down at me and his dark eyebrows met, "How old are you, boy?"
"Nine, sir." And before a minute of contemplation, I added, "The name's Cato, not boy…" And with an afterthought, "Sir."
The man let out a laugh, "I like your spirit. I will wait for you in the Center when you turn ten. You're a fighter and that, I can see clearly. Cato. Be there. You have potential."
I did start training in the Center the moment I turned ten. It was actually compulsory for every child when they have reached the training age but I actually had no plan to leave my mother working alone. But… I had to. This was District 2.
"Do I have to?" I called out for the fourth time as I made my way towards the door, "I want to work with you."
My mother smiled kindly at me, as she always would. "I can manage on my own, Cato. You have to go and train, everyone in District 2 does that so you have to as well." She leaned forward, cupped my cheeks and whispered conspiratorially, "I'll tell you what, when you get home, I will have big red apples ready for you. How does that sound?"
I gave my mother an easy smile. She knew me too well.
I had a really hard time in the Career Center. I thought I was hopeless. Blank, one of our trainers, took interest in me. He said I reminded him of himself. I don't know how he could possibly see himself in me – I was too tall, too blond and too skinny for my age. Unlike my prepubescent state, Blank was tall and muscular. He was great with swords and spears. I aspired to be like him.
I started training everyday – from eight to four – and worked for two more hours. This became my routine. Sometimes my mother would tell me not to work in the factory so instead, I went to the quarry where the other men were. My task in the quarry was much different from the factory, where I polished parts. In there, I was helping out the men in an open-pit mine where minerals and other kinds of rocks are extracted from. It was near the Nut but ever since it had been thoroughly wiped out the last ten years, the mining had to be done outside instead.
Maybe the quarry had something to do with the way I suddenly grew in size, accompanying my height.
My father returned again when I was eleven. He was older but he never lost the smile on his face whenever he saw us. He stayed with us for a while and was very proud with me when he learned I was training to be a Career. It had been his dream to be a tribute but he never got chosen. He never even got picked. He said I get to live out his dream. My father stayed with us until my brothers – Cyrus and Cyril – were born.
"Protect them for me, Cato."
He left after a month when he said that.
So I did.
I first saw Clove Holt in the Center- a year after I entered. She was being accompanied to her first day by Magdalena Holt, the Victor. She was small and mousy and I didn't think much of her. I could remember how the little girl flatly refused to talk to anyone else but her trainer. I could remember how the other trainees talk about her and somehow, I understood. She was a stuck-up rich kid. She would always be in the knife throwing station and you could tell she had talent but that didn't stop everyone from hating her.
She actually looked like she didn't mind.
"She thinks she's all that." One of my friends muttered as we picked up our swords for training. "She's not going to last long in the Games, or even here in training. She's too small."
I laughed, "Let's see. She seems like she could."
"Oh, do you think so, don't you Cato? How about a wager?"
"I don't think you would even remember it by the time I win." And with that, the discussion ended. Little did I know that I was right about Clove Holt.
I was twelve when my mother gave me a notebook for my birthday. She said since my father kept on giving me his words of wisdom, I should write them all down so I will remember them. I did but that didn't prevent me from remembering them all by heart.
I also started writing more things in that notebook. Things that I thought and things that I wanted to say but couldn't.
When I turned thirteen, my father came back again. Cassandra was born this year but my father wasn't there to see her. He was sent away again. He left me another advice, "Take care of them for me, Cato." I didn't realize this would be the last but I did. I took care of them. I worked hard for them.
This is why I asked Blank to help me with my scholarship. A scholar in the Career Center meant extra training because I would be someone who would be a tribute when I become eighteen. My destiny was set early on. The Head Trainers reviewed me, they took time in discussing and it was Ram –again - who said I had potential. Magdalena agreed, she became my benefactor.
Before turning fourteen, I received a letter. It was addressed to my mother but when the Capitol delivered it, I was home alone with my siblings. I don't remember what it said really but I did remember how they told me, in black and white print, that my father died while on service. It didn't say how. It didn't say when. It just said he was dead.
He wasn't coming home.
"Cato? You look pale, dear." My mother said as she opened the front door. It was already dark outside, I didn't even realize that I had already spaced out for a long time. "Are you feeling bad?"
I looked up and handed her little Cassandra, "A bit, yes. I'm sorry."
My mother gave me a kiss on the forehead, "No. Thank you, Cato. You've done so much. Go ahead and rest." She cradled Cassandra in her arms and went to see the twins, who were asleep.
I cried when she was gone. I cried but I knew I had to be strong. I hid the letter from my mother, and buried it by the tree on the cliff which was overlooking the Nut. I remembered everything he told me. I remembered them and I was determined to follow them all.
Life was not easy for us by then. We had no money since father's death (his disappearance, my mother thought) and my mother started to work full-time in the factory. I was in-charge of taking care of my siblings whenever she's not around. I didn't mind. I was determined to be better for my mother, for Cyrus and Cyril and for little Cassandra. My mother cried herself to sleep that year, she didn't know why my father never came back. I never had the heart to tell her.
My father did say I should protect her.
I was fifteen when I started hating Clove Holt.
Clove Holt felt like she was above everyone else. She looked as though people should give her special treatment just because she was the Victor's daughter. Clove Holt, the rich kid. She was smug that no one could reach her level on knife throwing (nobody really could). She was small, fast and confident. She was strong and determined.
I hated her.
I hated her because I couldn't keep my eyes off her.
It was also the year when I started really bulking up. With the training and the work I had, I started to grow in size. Blank liked what I had been doing and told me to keep it up. I had no plans to stop, actually. Other people started to notice me – I became more popular. Guys knew my name and started hanging out with me in the Center and girls started gravitating towards me.
But with my work and training, I don't know if I can handle girls right now. Or, maybe, I thought, that I was only waiting for a certain girl to notice me. Unfortunately, Clove Holt could only look past me.
When I turned sixteen, I had mastered spears and swords. Blank had nothing left to teach me by then. He was proud with what I became. I was the tall, burly trainee and everyone knew I was soon to be a tribute. I was soon to be a Victor. I was soon to give my family the life they deserved.
I achieved my dream at seventeen but I didn't know it came with a price. I became the District Tribute along with Clove Holt – the girl I had eyes on ever since she entered the Career Center. Every day I see her train with me, I would scream in my head. There were so many things I wanted to say to her but I just wrote them all down: Clove Holt is confusing. She's damn arrogant and talented at the same time and that, I guess made me watch her all these years. Truthfully, I did not want to be her ally but Blank wanted me to do it. He said she'd help me. He's crazy. That girl does not even have a heart so why would she? She'd kill herself before even welcoming the thought of being my ally.
She frustrates the hell out of me but I try so hard to keep her with me. To keep her safe somehow. There were days when she seemed like a normal person but there are times when she avoided me like a plague.
Damn it. That little girl knows nothing but to kill. How could I kill her first if she's like this? How could I make a way for her to like me? To make her want to be my ally to work with me? I have to make a plan. I have to make a plan for her to trust me so when the time is right, I could keep her safe. I could win that way even if I get killed.
Friendship? She must be kidding. I can't have that. What a stupid girl. How can I be just friends with her with everything that she has made me feel?
But after this last entry, my notebook disappeared. I don't mind. I just wondered where it went.
