Here's chapter two! There wasn't much of a response to the first one, but I'm really enjoying writing this. Thanks to those who read, favorited, and reviewed! It means a lot!
So here we go. We get to meet Azalea's father and sister in this chapter, as well as find out a little more about Cato. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with The Hunger Games! That honor goes to Suzanne Collins, the genius herself.
Two weeks later, Azalea stood at the edge of a large cliff at one of the rock quarries in District 2. Her father worked there, down in the granite and the dust and the misery. She had seen him work day after day, toiling beneath the hot sun and earning a meager living for his family. She came here often after school, waiting at the camp at the top of the canyon until he was finished for the day.
Today, though, she managed to bring herself to look over the cliff. It was a huge drop, probably thirty stories high, and it made her stomach turn and rise into her throat just to think about falling. Heights were her one fear, the one thing she just couldn't seem to get over. Her father chided her for it, reminding her that all she had to do was try not to fall, but nothing helped.
Easing herself down, Azalea pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. If she didn't look down, the view was really quite lovely. She could almost see the Capitol, with its gleaming buildings and colorful people. As it was, District 2 wasn't really that far away, just a day's journey by high-speed train, or so they said on the commentary for the games.
As she looked out at the mountains, she pulled one of the many knives she carried out of her boot. Her fingers automatically began twirling it, alternating throwing and stabbing grips. She liked the weight of this particular blade, knew how hard she would need to throw it for any target. It was comforting, especially when her heart was pounding out of her chest.
"What are you doing up here?" someone asked behind her, scaring her a little. No one had ever bothered her before, but she supposed she could get in trouble for being so close to the edge.
Turning to explain, she saw Cato standing a few yards away from her with his arms folded over his chest. He was smirking slightly, trying to hold in a grin that threatened to erupt.
"I thought you were a site manager!" Azalea exclaimed, throwing a stray pebble at him. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"I asked first," he said, coming to sit beside her.
She grinned, looking back out over the mountains and stabbing the knife into the gritty soil. "My father works here and I meet him every day with food. We walk home together."
"That sounds…cozy." Cato frowned, wondering if his father had ever wanted his company. There had never been any evidence of camaraderie, that was for sure. The most he got was a grunt when he came through the door and a smack on the back of his head when he said anything out of turn.
"Shut up," Azalea laughed. "So what about you, Cato? Does your father work here, too?"
"No, but my older brother does. My father is in the next quarry, run by Martins." Cato's brows drew together, indicating that he would like to change subjects. "How can you even sit up here?"
Azalea paused, wondering at his intentions. "What do you mean?"
"I know you're scared of heights. That day on the rock wall, you nearly stopped at the top and wouldn't come down." Cato kicked some sand over the edge of the cliff, ignoring the cries that rose up a few seconds later. "Doesn't this freak you out?"
"A little," she admitted, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. His face was cast in the orange glow of the sunset, all sharp angles and burning eyes. If she didn't know him to be occasionally cruel and constantly annoying, she might have thought he was handsome. "This is the first time I've been this close to the edge. Well, the first time since I was very young."
"What happened?" Cato asked, realizing that her voice had dropped off.
"You don't want to hear that story." She smiled, seeing that he was watching her. "It isn't a very pleasant anecdote. I've just met you, really, and I wouldn't want to scare you away."
"Did you really just imply that you could scare me?" Cato was partially joking, but he did get a flash of anger at his constitution being questioned. He reined it in, knowing that he would get nowhere with this girl acting like a prick.
"Maybe. I am carrying a knife, after all." Azalea laughed loudly, and it echoed in the quarry below. A few men looked up from their work and, seeing the two sitting together at the top of the cliff, made catcalls. "Did I wound your pride?"
"A little girl like you?" He smirked, unable to keep himself from mocking Thaddeus's words. "If you wounded me, I should just throw myself into the Hunger Games now. Make a fitting sacrifice on the altar of pussies."
"Wow, you're crass," Azalea commented, raising an eyebrow. "Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?"
"Occasionally, but not much." He leaned back on his elbows, staring up into the sky. "How long do you usually wait here?"
"I wait as long as I have to. Why have I never seen you here before?"
Cato hesitated, wondering just how much he was willing to share with this girl. He'd promised to teach her a dive, but what else? There was no point getting attached to anyone; that had been made clear when his best friend from childhood had been thrown off a cliff very similar to the one on which he was sitting. Oh, it had looked like an accident, but Cato knew that it had been the boy's father.
"I haven't talked to my brother in a while. He left the family a few years ago, just before he was supposed to go into the Games. My parents won't let us see him."
"That's awful. Family is the only thing we have in this place besides rocks and Reapings," Azalea said, shaking her head. "Not that I get along with all of my family, either. My sister is a chore. Sorry."
"It's fine," Cato said gruffly, trying to regain his tough demeanor. It wouldn't do for anyone his age to see him as weak, especially the girl who nearly beat him. "When am I going to teach you that dive you admired so much?"
"Whenever you want to, I guess." Azalea watched him closing off, watched his eyes dull beneath the setting sun, and felt bad for saying something that made him upset.
"How about I teach you now? I was just about to head over to the training center anyway." He stood, brushing the dust off his pants before offering her a hand.
"Why are you going back? We got out not three hours ago." Azalea let him lift her up, vaguely noticing how easily he handled her weight. "Are you a masochist?"
"Sometimes," Cato muttered, not intending for her to hear. To her, he said, "I like to put in a few more hours after dinner. Weights and swimming, mostly."
"Okay, but don't expect me to start joining you on a regular basis. I'm firmly in the middle of the pack at the Academy, and I'd prefer to keep it that way." Azalea laughed, taking her hand back and putting it in the pocket of her dark brown pants. "I won't let you corrupt me, Cato."
"Wouldn't dream of trying," he said, setting off toward the office and the shuttle stop that sat in front of the short building.
"Let me just leave word with the front desk," Azalea said, jogging on ahead with a quick glance back. "My dad would get worried if I wasn't here when he got back."
Cato watched her run off, auburn hair flying free of its usual ponytail, and knew deep down that he'd started something that would end poorly for the both of them. She was too spunky, too refreshing to forget. The way her eyes glittered intelligently and her habit of threading knives through her thin fingers intrigued him. He often found himself seeking her out in the training center during lessons, though he never spoke to her.
Natalie, his training partner, had begun commenting on his distracted state during practice. She would give him an extra hard blow to the shoulder with her wooden sword, glaring until he shook his head and focused. Her sharp eyes missed nothing, and he was sure she saw him looking at Azalea. She never said anything to him, but he knew she thought he was going soft instead of hardening into a soldier.
By the time he reached the main offices, Azalea was smiling at the woman at the desk and coming out to meet him. He let a small grin dance around his lips for a few moments before reining it in and turning it into a twisted smirk. If he didn't start exercising self-control now he was done for.
"Ready?"
"Only if you are!" Azalea gave him a winning smile and went over to sit on the bench at the shuttle stop.
After they had reached the training center and put on their swimsuits, the two trainees stood at the edge of the pool. The lights were low in the gym due to the late hour, but Cato's connection in the Academy offices had remembered to leave the pool lights on. The water cast odd shadows and threw ribbons of light across their faces, giving them both a strange otherworldliness.
"Should I show you first and then start teaching?" Cato asked, eager to get into the water.
"Sure, that sounds fine," Azalea replied, shivering a little in the cool air of the gym.
Cato gestured for her to step back, and then retreated about four yards from the side of the pool. Without warning, he took off running and leapt into the air in a perfect arc. His arms came together over his head, hands forming a point in front of him, and he slipped effortlessly into the water with such a small splash that no water sloshed into the drains.
When he came up for air in the middle of the pool, Azalea clapped and laughed as he gave a little bow. She knew she was only feeding his ego, but it really was a spectacular display of athleticism. She could tell that he spent many hours in the pool outside of training, and she was more than a little envious of his ease in the water.
"Finished showing off?" she asked playfully, planting her hands on her hips. "I thought you were going to teach me!"
"You said you wanted to see it again!" he called, swimming over and splashing at her.
Azalea leapt away, managing to avoid the chilly water, and rubbed at her arms. "Come on, I'm cold! Let's get this show on the road, Instructor Cato."
He pulled himself out of the pool easily, muscles bulging in his arms and chest, and water streamed off him in torrents. Bathing suit clinging to his strong thighs, he looked like a god come down to earth especially to teach Azalea.
"Okay, so the first step is getting your takeoff right," he said, shaking his head and spraying water everywhere. Cato grinned when he saw he'd gotten her a little wet, shaping his hair with one hand.
"Where do I push off?" Azalea asked, walking the path he'd taken to dive. "Here?"
"I'm a little taller, so maybe you should wait another step," he advised, moving her to another spot just a foot closer. "Pretend there's an X there and jump when your foot touches it. You have to use both feet, though, so don't half-ass it."
Azalea nodded, calculating the time it would take her to reach her takeoff point. It didn't look too complicated, though she supposed that was because Cato had been doing it for a long time.
"Then what?" She turned to look at him, blinking her large hazel eyes.
"Keep your body pretty straight and raise your arms over your head before you cross the side of the pool." He did a walkthrough to demonstrate, stopping at the imaginary X and then throwing up his arms when he reached the edge. "Think you can try?"
"We'll see," she said wryly, figuring her first few tries would be miserable. It would be embarrassing to have Cato witness her humiliation, but she would have to endure it to master this dive.
Stepping back a few yards, she took a deep breath and crossed her fingers for luck. With a little squeak, she set off running and concentrated on jumping at the imaginary X by the drain. Her arms barely got over her head in time, slipping through the water slightly separated and allowing some water to slap her in the face. She swam for a moment, relishing the fact that she hadn't slammed any part of her body into the concrete siding of the pool.
When she resurfaced, Azalea blinked and wiped some hair out of her face. She could hear no laughter, which she took as a good sign. As she looked around, though, Cato was nowhere to be found. She treaded water for a few moments, searching for him in the dim corners of the room.
"Boo," Cato said next to her ear, causing her to scream and whirl around. He grinned, white teeth gleaming in the low light, and couldn't help but laugh at his own joke.
"You ass!" she exclaimed, aiming a punch at his shoulder. She meant to pull it, but she didn't rein in her strength in time. He rubbed at the spot and she knew that it would bruise. "Don't you ever do that to me again!"
"I can't promise anything," he chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. His arm was still throbbing, but he wouldn't let her know that. Sobering, he looked her in the face. "That was a great first try, by the way."
"Really?" she asked quietly, all thoughts of anger dissipating with the relief of not having made a fool out of herself. "It felt a little sloppy."
Cato hesitated for a moment, alternating between telling her the truth and lying to see her face light up again. Deciding to go with truth, he set about telling her what was wrong.
"I think you should push a little harder on your takeoff. If you don't get yourself up higher, you'll never have the time to get your arms right. They were almost there, but you didn't get your hands together."
Azalea nodded, swimming over to the edge and preparing for another try.
A dozen or more dives later, Azalea hung on the edge of the pool, breathing hard. Cato sat with his legs dangling into the water, kicking slightly and whistling a tune under his breath.
"How are you not tired?" Azalea asked, having watched him lift weights and do sprints while she attempted to copy his perfect dive.
"I actually try at the Academy instead of relying on what God gave me," he replied evenly, quirking one side of his mouth. "It's called endurance, baby."
"Don't ever call me that again," she ordered, leveling a glare at him that was only half-serious. "It's almost as bad as 'little girl.'"
"You're not very tall," Cato pointed out. "Maybe you should look into extra running."
"That won't make me any taller."
"No, but it'll cut down on the time you spend with your lungs collapsing in on themselves." He pulled his legs out of the water and stood, walking over to the benches along the wall.
Azalea pulled herself out of the pool and joined him, taking the towel he handed her and wringing out her hair. Looking at the clock, she let out a small noise of disbelief. Cato looked down at her, wondering what had her so worked up.
"It's so late! I need to get home; my dad will be so worried!" She started running to the locker rooms, leaving a bewildered Cato to stare after her.
Once he'd toweled off, he walked slowly to the boys' locker room and changed back into his clothes. It was odd to have to worry about what your parents thought, considering that his never minded if he spent a few extra hours at the gym. They wanted him out of the house as much as possible, and if it would help him win the Games, all the better.
Cato nearly crashed into Azalea as he was coming out of the locker room, not expecting her to rocket toward the door of the gym.
"Thanks for teaching me, but I have to go!" she called over her shoulder, careening around a few pieces of equipment.
"Why don't I walk you home?" he offered, the words flying from his mouth before he could even think them through. "Maybe I can explain to your father."
Azalea paused, her hand resting on the bar of the door. A slow smile crept across her face, her heart slamming inexplicably against her ribs.
"Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you." She waited for him to join her, then pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool night air.
They walked in silence, down the road from the Academy and into the residential zone. The nicer houses were closest to town, but Azalea didn't have far to go. Her father could only afford a house in the quarrymen's area, which basically amounted to a long row of dilapidated four room houses. The neighborhood wasn't great, but the people were very kind. Everyone knew how hard life was as a quarryman.
Cato was slightly surprised to see that Azalea had lived a mere fifteen houses away from him their entire lives. He knew their parents knew each other, but they had never forced the children to meet. Their only interaction before the race was a mere moment five years earlier, in the halls of the regular school. Azalea had brushed by Cato, running to class, and he had yelled at her for hitting him. She hadn't seemed fazed, merely stared at him for a few moments before taking off.
He had resented her for a while for defying him, but eventually he had pushed the event to the back of his mind. Now, though, the memory almost made him smile. She was just the same, just as defiant and radiant as she had been then; he was just starting to notice it.
As they walked up to the front of the house, the door was thrown open and a thin, dark-haired girl stood with her feet shoulder-width apart. A murderous expression was on her face, directed right at Cato, and she moved out onto the porch before they could mount the steps.
"What the hell are you doing here?" the girl snapped. "Why are you with my sister?"
"Language!" Azalea exclaimed, ignoring the fact that she had used worse words on Cato earlier. "What is wrong with you?"
"You're with this prick, that's what's wrong." The girl crossed her arms, freckles standing out starkly against her pale complexion.
"Hey, you're Clove, right?" Cato interrupted, leaning against the railing beside him. "Top of the fourteen-year-old division, I think. I knew I recognized you. You're so…short."
"Fuck you; I could still take you in a fight." Clove whipped a knife out of her sleeve, pointing it at him. "Don't try anything funny with my sister, okay?"
Cato chuckled, unable to help himself. He had seen this girl fight in matches before and knew what she could do, but it was still so funny. She was even shorter than Azalea, which meant somewhere around five-four, and her body was very small. The idea that she could do anything to hurt him was just laughable.
"Don't laugh at her, Cato," Azalea admonished. "She probably could hurt you. Even with her dirty mouth."
Clove wrinkled her nose at her sister, not taking her eyes off the reclining blond boy at the foot of the stairs. Everyone knew what a sadistic bastard he was, even Azalea. How on earth she could stand to be next to him Clove didn't know.
"Put the knife away," Azalea instructed, climbing up to the house and wrenching the blade from the smaller girl's hand. "Dad told you: No weapons in the house."
"I'm outside," Clove retorted, grabbing for the knife.
Azalea held it over her head, watching her sister jump for it. "Come on, get inside or I'll call for Daddy. He'll get his belt."
Clove glared, retreating into the warmly-lit house and stomping off to the room they shared.
"Sorry about that," Azalea said, pocketing the knife and turning back to Cato. "You really shouldn't bait her, though. She's got more bloodlust than a hunting dog."
"She's just so…"
"Say 'little' and I'll stick you myself." Azalea jerked her head toward the house. "Are you coming inside?"
"How are you two related?" Cato asked with a grin, taking the steps two at a time and following Azalea into the small house.
"Dad!" Azalea called. "I'm home. Cato from the Academy is here."
"I wondered where you'd got off to," her father said, coming out of the kitchen with a broad smile on his weathered face. "Atia at the offices gave me your message, but I didn't think you'd be gone through dinner."
"I'm sorry, but we lost track of time. I'm Cato." Stepping up to shake Titus's hand, Cato was taken aback by the man's strong grip. "I was teaching Azalea a dive back at the Academy."
"I meant to be back for dinner," Azalea chimed in, watching as her father finally withdrew his hand and sized up the tall boy.
"I know your parents well," Titus said finally, putting his hands in his pockets. "We met them the year after your brother was born. Good boy, that Marcus."
Cato's smile tightened slightly at the mention of his brother, but he maintained his composure. He needed Titus to like him, to trust him, if he wanted to keep spending time with Azalea outside of school. He wanted to keep training with her, to see how far she could really come if she tried. Maybe, if she was good enough, she could beat Natalie for the top spot in their year.
"Well," Cato said after a few moments, "I should probably go. I just wanted to walk Azalea home."
"Thanks," she said quietly, giving him a smile behind her father's shoulder. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."
"Yeah, see you there." Cato flexed his fingers nervously. "It was nice meeting you, sir."
"Good meeting you too, son." Titus gave him a tight smile, nodding before turning back to the interior of the house.
Azalea walked him to the door, barely containing the fit of laughter that threatened to bubble up in her throat. The look on his face when her father had squeezed his hand had been priceless. If only she could come home with a new boy every day.
"See you," she said, waving as he stepped off the porch.
"Goodnight," he answered, making a face as she let loose a quiet bout of giggles. She shut the door, still laughing, and turned to go to her room.
Clove was sitting up on her bed, a whetstone and an arsenal of different types of knives laid out before her. When Azalea walked in, she looked up and narrowed her eyes at her big sister.
"You're stupid," she said, picking up a knife and beginning the process of sharpening it.
"Oh, thanks," Azalea shot back, taking the stolen blade from her pocket and tossing it down on the bed. "You're welcome for not telling Dad how awful you were, by the way."
"Shut up. Do you really think he wants you hanging out with Cato?" Clove tested the knife's point on her finger, frowning when it drew no blood. "That's not who he wants you to be friends with."
"But I should hang out with you, my murderous little sister who thinks steel is more interesting than dolls? I think I'm safer around Cato than I've ever been in this room with you."
"If you believe that then you're dumber than I thought." Clove whipped the knife toward Azalea, smirking when it hit the wall beside her head. Wisps of Azalea's auburn hair floated to the floor slowly, cut cleanly by the knife.
"Stay out of my business, Clove. I mean it." Azalea pulled the knife out of the wood and threw it, hard, into her sister's headboard. "I taught you how to use these. If you aren't careful, I'll teach you what real pain feels like."
Thanks so much for reading! Do me a big favor and review? I'd like to know how I'm doing. Hope you enjoyed!