Pre-Hunger Games. That's what everyone calls it. But it's a misnomer. Because someone will probably get their face broken in the pre-Hunger Games. There's always some broken bones and plenty of blood to go around. But no one ever dies. Death is the exclusive property of the Capitol.
The "gym" (but what kind of gym has an entire wall devoted to lethal wepaons of every kind?) has been rearranged completely. Chairs and tables have been set up where the weights usually are and all the mats have been moved to the center of the room. As always, the girls go first. And as always, it is mindnumbingly tedious. Everyone already knows that Clove is going to the female tribute despite her major disadvantage regarding size. I nearly fall asleep watching her completely own the other girls. None of them last more than a couple of minutes against her. I'm just about to doze off when Clove plops herself into my lap.
"Wow. That was so boring. I almost fell asleep," she grumbles. "There better be some real competition in the Games." She leans back against my chest.
"Don't worry. I promise to keep it interesting in the arena," I reply before pushing her off my lap.
"What the hell, Cato!"
I ignore her. I make my way to the center of the room. There's only one other male competitor for the honor of being tribute: Dansson.
