Cato – Chapter 2
A little girl steps onto stage. I would have thought that she was twelve or thirteen, fourteen at the most if she hadn't come from the fifteen-year-old section. Wow. I'm going to have to kill her. That little girl.
Alessia Reeky asked for volunteers. You can practically hear the wind in the trees as no one steps forward to take her place.
"Wonderful!" gushes Alessia Reeky, "Round of applause for our girl tribute, Clove Belfur!"
There is a subtle applause from the audience, and Alessia gives a little squeal that I suppose is supposed to be from delight. How strange.
"Alright!" squeaks Alessia. "Now let's choose our boy tribute!"
As if she gets to choose. But this year everyone knows who the boy tribute is. Me. I will be volunteering. Everyone knows I will win the games and come back home with wealth and fortune.
I watch smugly as Alessia trots to the glass ball with the boy names at the left. She digs her hand in the glass ball and stirs the way she did with the girls, and goes back to the podium and reads the name. "Cleve Belfur."
Huh. He must be Clove's brother. And, what the heck, he looks so much bigger! But he came from the thirteen-year-old section. And part of his face looks familiar. Probably a friend of Ceale's. Right.
Cleve is on the stage and staring at Clove with an unreadable expression. He probably knows then. Knows that I will be volunteering in his place and will win the games. And that means his sister must die.
"Volunteers?" Alessia Reeky asks raising her eyebrows. She looks like she wanting to get off the stage. No, she can't. This is my moment. The moment I have been waiting my whole life.
"I volunteer!" I bellow in the most dangerous voice I could muster. The kids around me automatically make a path to the stage. I flash a smug smile and slowly begin to make my way onto stage. This is all live on TV. I must make an impression.
"Lovely!" says Alessia Reeky, "And your name is...?"
"Cato," I say as if it didn't matter. "Cato Dervig."
"Terrific! Round of applause for Cato Dervig, our boy tribute!" I have to say that the applause is much livelier. The kids have all passed their initial fright of becoming a tribute. They are safe for the year.
As the applause dies down, Alessia Reeky sits down on her chair looking please with herself. Mayor Burke stands and reads another required speech, the long, dull Treaty of Treason. And I'm to stand on stage with Clove on the other side the whole time. The whole time I wonder whether I'll be able to kill a little girl like her in the arena.
She's not little, I think as the mayor finishes her speech. She's fifteen. Stop softening up. This is the Hunger Games.
Now I'm to shake hands with her. She gives me a stare of deep loathing which I try to return, and squeezes my hand so hard I feel it's about to burst. The moment we let go I want to massage my hands, but I know that will not do with the fact I'm televised right now.
I glance again, and she smiling the tiniest bit with a daring look. I stare back at the crowd. I'm not even at the Capitol and I'm already being intimidated by this little girl. The confidence I built up year after year in training seems to melt slowly. This isn't good.
Stop, I tell myself, That's her intention. She hasn't accepted death. She's fighting for the win. Well that's not good. I am going to will this year. She can't. I am. I am coming back to District 2. I told everyone I was going to win. I volunteered. She was just reaped. She's so little.
The moment the anthem ends we're both marched into the Justice Building with armed Peacekeepers along our side. So much security I don't get. I mean we're just going into the room where we say goodbye to our loved ones, what trouble would anyone do? Sometimes the Peacekeepers just stump us. Maybe the other districts have some problem with marching into a room, that's why they have to keep security.
I find myself in a classically elegant room where goodbyes are said. There's velvet and silk everywhere, and I spend a few minutes just touching and admiring the luxuries. Maybe this is what Victor's Village is like. Maybe my future home will be like this.
My parents and my brother Ceale enter the room. We don't embrace much or anything, we just stand stiffly. My parents didn't want me to volunteer. They didn't think it was worth it. But I did in the end, and here I am. But I'll show them. Show them that I can win these Games. Become a victor.
"Cato," my mother says. I turn and see that there's tears streaming silently down her face, and I feel a bit of remorse for forcing her into watching me in the arena. But I must stay strong. No puffy eyes and red nose. The cameras will not like that, and that will reduce the amount of sponsors I have.
"Don't worry," I say, "I'll come back. I will."
"It's too late," my father says, his eyes a million miles away from where we are, "You have to win. You have to come back."
"Yes," I say. Don't these people get it? I am coming back. That's why I volunteered. Who would volunteer for an unpretty death in the arena? Maybe some of the poorer district will volunteer for the food I guess, but starvation that extreme doesn't exist in District 2.
My mother breaks down. My father seems to come back to reality and brings my mother out of the room. They leave me with my brother.
"My friend got reaped you know." Ceale says. It takes a few moments to understand what he means. He must mean Cleve. I'm not really close to my brother, I spend most times at the Training Center.
"Oh," I say. I don't get where this is going. Is he thanking me for saving his friend? Or what?
"His sister was reaped," Ceale continues. Oh. Now I know where it's going.
"Oh no," I say almost sarcastically.
Ceale studies me and looks like he's about to say something else, but shakes his head. We say nothing for the next minute or so. Then the Peacekeeper is at the door, signaling the time is up. I give Ceale half a hug, and then he's gone.
The door opens and I see Royal walk in. He's seventeen, he was on the volunteer list this year but I beat him. He signing up again, and I'm sure he'll make it. Strong, fit, and somewhat attractive, he has a chance of winning the Games.
"Here," he says and shoves something into my hands. Oh right. District tokens. The Gamemakers allows each tribute to bring one item in the arena. To remind them of home. But district tokens are the last thing I'm thinking of.
I glance down. It's a copper colored necklace. The thread is remarkably thin, and there is a pendant at the bottom. It's a preserve of a bug. Preserves are rare in District 2. Royal isn't that rich. I wonder where in the world he came about this wonderful thing.
"It's nice." I say.
"Yes. To remind you of home," Royal says, and I wonder how a bug is supposed to remind me of home. Then I notice it. The antenna, abdomen, legs…it forms a two.
"Oh," I say softly, "That's wonderful."
Royal flashes a smile and grabs my arm, "Win for me, Cato." he says, "Be my role-model."
I return the smile, and Royal stands up. He looks uneasy, "You know, Clove is my neighbor."
Uh-oh. Clove again. "But I want you to win," Royal finishes. He gives me a playful punch and then he's out the room. I silently slip the necklace into my pocket.
My trainer, Vetky, enters the room. She seems to have this urgent tone, and immediately starts talking.
"Team up with District 1 and maybe 4 if their districts look like their worth teaming up with. Find a spear. Or a sword. Just something you're good at fighting with. Discuss an angle with Brutus. I would suggest violent and maybe impatient, that would be intimidating and may get you sponsors. Don't object your stylist. Try to impress the Gamemakers by showing them you can use a wide variety of weapons. Camp near Cornucopia where all the food and weapons and resources are. Make the first move when it's up to the final two."
Vetky said this all really fast, and I'm not sure if I caught three things. But this is all reviewed information, so I just nod.
"Good. Win, Cato," Vetky says, pats my back, and leaves the room. She has a sad expression on. Right. She's been in these rooms many times. And most of the time it's the last time she ever sees her students. They die. But that won't be happening in this case. I will win, and come home.
I am still absorbed in my thoughts, I don't see him come into the room. But he does, and he's immediately on top of me and staring down.
What's he doing here? Come to thank me for taking his place? Everyone knew that. Reassure me? Give me some present?
But I'm not right. "My sister," Cleve says.
Ouch. These weeks will be difficult for him. He has to watch his sister fight to the death in an arena with me.
"I'm sorry," I say as sympathetically I could, but seriously, why does everyone seem to have some relationship with this Clove girl? How am I supposed to fight her with so many people pestering me? Wonderful, Cleve is the third person to mention her now. Now I can just pray Brutus isn't her uncle or something.
"No," Cleve says, trying to keep cool, "Promise me you'll protect her. Promise me!" He's losing it now. Getting desperate.
I realize that Cleve won't be leaving the room until I promise him. Promise I'll protect her. But what does that mean for me? I'm supposed to come home this year. Not her.
"I promise." I murmur, barely audible. Great. Now I have to hope she gets herself killed a way I can't help.
Cleve narrows his eyes, "A promise is a promise," he ruminates quietly, "You gave your word. Don't think of bending it. Got it? You gave your word you'll protect her."
I nod. This thirteen-year-old is bossing me around. Telling me what to do. Amazing. I'm feeling so much like a victor.
Cleve glares at me and exits the room. Wow. That was rough game. But now I have to protect that girl. Because I promised.
We ride to the train station by car. I'm forced to sit by that Clove girl, and I think she was glaring at me the whole way. There's something about her deathly glare, it always seems to burn. I've got a problem here.
There are cameras everywhere on the train station. I try to appear bored, and I hope that will pull more sponsors. That I'm not scared of going to a arena and fighting to the death.
Clove Belfur, on the other hand, flashes sweet smiles across the train station, and with her small figure, it fits her profile perfectly. Small and sweet. Now I'm suddenly afraid that she'll be able to pull more sponsors than I can. But there's still time. We're not even at the Capitol yet. Surely my size and burliness will work better than tiny and sweet.
After the cameras soaked in the images of us, we're immediately herded onto the train. This is the first time I've ever been on a train; and the speed takes my breath away. It's going about 250 miles per hour, so we will be reaching the Capitol in about a day.
As I head into what will be my room today, it seems the Capitol puts the tributes in complete luxury then throws them into an arena where they have to fight one another. I have a whole large compartment to myself, which includes a bedroom, a dresser with many outfits I don't really care about, and a private bathroom with so many buttons I might spend my whole hour before supper playing with them.
I take a shower, exploring the buttons one by one, and by the end of my hour I'm smelling rather terrible. There's banana, mint, mango, chocolate, and other flavors I can't place all over my body. I don't have time to rewash though, Alessia Reeky told me to be down for dinner in a hour. The last thing I want is a bad impression on Brutus before he even started coaching me.
Alessia Reeky collects me for dinner. She's about three heads shorter than me, even with those six inch high heels on, and I feel stupid following her down the train and towards the dining compartment. Luckily, we are the first ones to be at the table.
While Alessia Reeky goes to fetch Clove, I examine the room. There is a lot of glass on the table, and that poses the problem that I'll have to watch where I put my hands. The wall in polished wood, and I can't help it but rub the palm of my hand over it. Everything back at District 2 is stone. Cold stone.
Enobaria and Brutus enters the room. I hope their noses aren't working their best. Brutus gives a huge sigh and slumps himself onto the chair next to mine. Enobaria stiffly walks to the seat across from me. "Don't mind him. Mentoring isn't his favorite task."
Brutus sits back and snorts, "Who would want to mentor two kids and watch them die? I would rather go back to the arena myself. Seriously, why can't these kids just wing it out? Makes my job easier."
Enobaria rolls her eyes and turns to me, "He's just upset no one's won under his guidance," she pauses and looks me from bottom to top, "Maybe you can change that. Looks fit."
Brutus crosses his legs and makes a retching noise from his throat, and glares at Enobaria. I'm afraid a fight is going to break out, but luckily, that precise moment Alessia Reeky comes into the room with Clove behind her. She's still in her reaping oufit, but her hair is down. Alessia Reeky looks as freaky as usual, and they take their seat at the table, and Alessia starts babbling about some dumb Capitol issue. Enobaria and Brutus stays silent, and Clove won't look up anywhere except the table.
The teachers at school always tells us to be thankful that we're from a richer district, where everyone has enough food to fill their bellies. Now I realize how Capitol citizens feast every day. The food comes in courses. Thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, and a chocolate cake. I try not to overstuff myself throughout the courses, but they're so wonderfully good I can't help it. Alessia Reeky spends so much time talking she doesn't even seem to touch the food. Oh well. She from the Capitol, she gets delicacies every day.
Clove, in contrary, is controlling the amount of food she eats. I'm surprised, if I were that teeny, I would try to stuff a few pounds before the games. But she's always glancing at Enobaria and Brutus.
Oh. Already trying to win the mentors favor. That doesn't really matter though, I guess
After supper, we go into another compartment to watch the recaps of the reapings in all the districts throughout the day. There's twelve, and the Capitol tries to organize the reapings so the districts are able to watch them live at their homes. The times change every year, and no one watches reapings during the day when there's recaps at night, so I guess the Capitol citizens are eager to know the twenty-four tributes who will be fighting each other in the arena. What a life.
Starting with District 1, the reapings are shown. I pay attention to this one and four, since they may be my allies in the arena. District 1 provides a blonde girl who seems fit enough, and a boy who looks about the same. No huge competition yet. Four has a brown haired girl and a small curly haired boy. Both of them seem alright, but they don't seem fit enough to win the games. The other reapings flash by, the whole time I look for desirable allies. Some still stick in my mind though, like the redhead girl from five, a boy who seems fit from six, a crippled boy from ten, and a really small twelve-year-old from eleven. But eleven also provides a giant, over six feet tall, and he's immediately on my ally list. Twelve is somewhat strange, another twelve-year-old is called, but her sister seems to go through some fit and volunteers. She's small, but better than the little twelve-year-old. When her escort calls for applause, the whole district presses three fingers to their mouth and holds it up to her. A commentator says something about District 12 always being a bit backwards, and something else about their local customs being charming. I think the first comment makes more sense.
The only live victor of District 12 comes on stage and falls off, and the commentators groan comically. Brutus gives an unexpected laugh. "Haymitch. He's always a great laugh."
Enobaria gives him a look, but I'm watching the District 12 boy come up. He's stocky and blond. May be a desirable ally.
The anthem sounds again, and the program ends. Alessia Reeky gives a small squeal, "Well, there doesn't seem to be too much competition," she says cheerfully. Suddenly she seems to remember something, "Oh no!" she shriekes, "I need my notes! For our talk!" With that she hops out the room in her freaky shoes.
"What notes?" I ask before I can stop myself.
"Grown-up talk." Brutus says gruffly, "But she's right. Not much too much competition this year."
Enobaria leans forward on the couch, "Maybe. Listen, Cato and Clove, we need to decide whether you want to be coached separately. We need to start immediately."
I glance at Clove, who's looking apprehensively at Enobaria. "I think together should be fine," I say, "We going to be allies in the arena, right?" It's custom for the tributes from one, two, and four to be allies. But this year we may just add eleven.
Clove shifts her foot, "I guess we can be coached together. I think we should continue tradition."
Brutus leans back and says in a bored voice, "Amazing. Now should we get started?" he inquires Enobaria.
She frowns at Clove, glancing at me occasionally. After about half a minute of this she asks, "How old are you two?"
"Eighteen," I immediately say.
Clove wrinkles her nose, "I'm fifteen."
"You're small for a fifteen-year-old," Enobaria says calmly.
Clove purses her lips tightly, "I know."
Brutus laughs, "No worries Enobaria. We can make something out of her."
"Of course," she says, "We need an angle for you. One that makes you vicious and dangerous despite your size. That should appeal the Capitol."
"Be little," Brutus suggests, "Like the cheery wavy girl at the train station."
Clove stares daggers at him, and Enobaria sighs, "No wonder no one has won under your mentoring. You're hopeless," she then turns to Clove, "I like the cheery thing at the train station, but I think we need a more Career like angle. Something to intimidate the rest of the field." The strong alliance between districts one, two, and four is called Career Tributes, or just Careers.
Enobaria suddenly grins, "You have a nice glare. Truly Career like."
Brutus howls and Clove suddenly smiles. Not the sweet smile from the train station, but a little happy smile. A real smile.
As if by cue, Alessia Reeky hops back into the room with a notepad in her hands, "Six-thirty! It's meeting time! Clove and Cato, you two can go have some sleep now. We're going to be at the Capitol tomorrow!" she gives a giggle as if it's the best thing in the world, "Or you can stay and get acquainted with each other! Best know each other before the alliance in the games!"
The accent really makes me want to laugh right out loud, her enthusiasm and squeaky voice that makes her sound like she's squealing all the time. How does Brutus and Enobaria survive this escort every year? She just makes me want to break down laughing.
Enobaria gives a sigh and stands up, "We'll continue tomorrow," she says. She shoves Brutus roughly, "Come on. We need to improve your mentoring skills."
Brutus sits solidly and squints at her. The last thing I want is a fight between the mentors. But he just grins, "Fine. Improve me." He stands up and goes towards the door. But not before giving a wink towards Clove's and my direction.
As the door slams with a bang, Alessia Reeky sighs, "He needs to learn how to be more encouraging. It might affect the tributes emotions." I try hard not to laugh. Alessia doesn't even seem to realize that the two tributes that might have their "feelings" affected. Those two tributes that must fight to the death. One must die. And, it is Clove.
Enobaria doesn't respond to Alessia's obvious remark, but leaves the room with a sigh. Alessia Reeky, who always seems to not understand the two mentors actions, tilts her head and gives Clove and I a wide grin, "Well, this is the first year Enobaria's worked with Brutus. I think he'll be a handful. Maybe you can help him!" she adds with a squeal. She stands up, "Well, it's about time to go to bed. Must be ready to tomorrow! It's going to be a big big day!" Alessia flashes a smile and hops off the couch. She's out the room before I can wonder what in the world the Capitol escort is thinking of. Her thoughts about exactly how excited are we supposed to be? Excited about standing in front of the Capitol audience as if we're glad we're fighting each other? It's pathetic.
Now with only Clove and I in the room, it's oddly quiet. She's fiddling with her shirt, her eyes fixated on a spot three feet left the television. She suddenly looks up, "We getting acquainted?"
"No," I say, "We don't need to."
"No," she repeats and grins sarcastically, "So much about you. So much about them," she sighs, "I wish I were home."
This is the first time Clove's spoken normally to me. At least, I think. "I heard the food's prime." I say.
"Who cares about the food?" Clove says gloomily, "Enobaria won't even look at me."
"She did," I object.
There's a small pause. Then Clove gives me a look so full of loathing it seems she's transformed into another person. But still something about it seems familiar. "Of course. To you, when they were just praising you."
"No, I mean she did look at you." I protest.
"Sure," she replies.
"Look, I know Enobaria was a bit tough. But she's the lifeline in your games." Not that she has a chance, I think. She's far too small. "Size isn't the answer to everything," I continue, "It's not your fault you're tiny."
"Tiny" exploded it. That the very small Clove Belfur has some sort of memory associated with it. How her glare pulled my memory. That I have spoken to her before she was reaped. One look at her face tells me that she has grasped the memory also.