Chapter 2: The Reaping

They reached the girls' dorm when Clove blurted, "Oh no, I forgot to get the dorm keys!"

Cato shrugged and said, "You can use the boys' dorm for now."

They journeyed for a minute until they reach the boys' side. Cato fumbled with his keys and unlocked the door. Clove set down her trunk and pulled out her school uniform. The school uniform was a red sweater with the gold Panem Academy symbol embroidered on it. Students had to wear white collar shirts inside and girls had to wear white plaid skirts with red and gold stripes while boys wear khaki dress pants or ironed jeans. The feet would wear white socks and any shoes. Shoes became very popular and trendy among students, often resulting in students bringing several pairs just to sell.

Clove looked at the dark hoodie she was wearing. "I'm going into the bathroom to change. Don't come in," and she strolled right in.

Cato turned around to dress into his sweater. Everything else he had did at home. This year they were required to bring two outfits of formal attire. The outfits were not chosen and Cato was excited to see everyone's different opinions on fashion.

Cato yawned and collapsed onto his bed. He stared at the dazzling ceiling before he slowly fell asleep.

His unconsciousness woke in a dirty, filthy place that was extremely different from home. Cato could imagine his body walking down a dirt road and entering a large, gloomy place. Inside, every single wall was covered in weapons, fake dummies perched in strategic places in most rooms. He could see Clove, grasping things and throwing them at the dummies. Knives. Cato observed them closely and found out that they were hologram knives. Was this place Clove's past?

Suddenly, Cato reaches for a spear and pierces the dummy's would-be-heart. The Cato that was sleeping was impressed with his skills. The dream Cato walks up to Clove and says, "Wee, wee, little Clove. You're gonna fool everyone in the Games with your petite stature but deadly tactics."

Clove sneers, "Not unless I chose to go for the ruthless act."

The sleeping Cato is confused. What were the Games? Why was he acting like he had known Clove for years? Trying not to sound dumb, he asked, "What are the Games again?"

Clove laughed. "You've been training and watching the Games ever since you were allowed to. Suddenly you don't know what they are? It's the game where the kids that are Reaped fight to the death."

Cato nodded. "Just testing you," he lied. He wasn't very enthusiastic towards this dream.

Clove smiled at Cato and suggested, "Wanna have a bow and arrow competition? We both suck at that, so fair game."

Cato agreed and the rest of the day was a blur. The sleeping Cato felt time pass in his dream and it was morning again. The dream Cato was dressing in a collared button-up shirt and dress pants. He left his little shack and tread down the path. The sleeping Cato observed the solemn faces of parents and excited expressions the kids were wearing.

Cato finds Clove dressed in a plain blue dress and together they go to the town square. There, many kids were arranged in neat rows according to their gender and age. Cato and Clove separate, and he immediately notices the freakish lady standing at the podium. She was a tall, Asian woman, but her face was covered in thick pale makeup and her eyelashes dripping with small jewels. The woman's dress was constructed of rubies and sapphires arranged in a dress shape.

"Hellooooo, District 2!" the woman screeched. Her voice was high and raspy. "Isn't it a lovely day today! Now, I don't want to bore you and wish for the adults to keep working, so we shall go straight to the Reaping! May the odds be ever in your favor." She smiles so wide that her lips seem to stretch from ear to ear. "Ladies first," she calls, and she sticks her hand into a round glass bowl filled with paper strips. Cato was heavily reminded of his mother's fishbowl that kept all her emergency gum sticks.

The woman cleared her throat and read, "Er, Clove."

Most of the people, including Cato, turned their heads towards Clove. She smiled that murderous grin and marched to the podium. Cato was slightly worried about leaving Clove in a place where people kill each other, but Clove was very skilled.

"Now for the boys," the woman announced. She stuck her hand in another bowl and reads, "Bread, Pita."

Before he knew what he was doing, Cato had stuck his hand in the air and called, "I volunteer! I VOLUNTEER!"

The woman giggled and clapped her hands. "Well, it looks like we have a volunteer!" The sleeping Cato swore in his mind.

As Cato scrambled onto the podium, the woman urgently whispers, "And what's your name, dear?"

"Cato. Cato Corp," he pants.

The woman smiles and raises their hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, let us welcome this year's tributes from DIstrict 2, Clove Er and Cato Corp!" The crowd bursts into thunderous applause, still looking very grim. Cato winces and Clove pats him on the shoulder. He had volunteered to be killed. Great.