Chapter 2
That's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt. –John Green
A persistent knocking on the door wakes me up the next morning, and I groan, rolling over in bed and pulling the pillow over my head. "Get your ass out of bed before I break down this fucking door," Enobaria yells, and I roll my eyes in annoyance, rolling out of the bed and stumbling over to the wooden double doors.
"Good morning to you too," I greet her sarcastically when I open the door.
"Go eat," she ignores my comment before walking away. Well then.
Before I even make it to the dining room, I notice the sweet scent of cinnamon rolls drifting throughout the District 2 headquarters, causing my mouth to water. Following the scent, I end up standing in front of a large buffet table full of every type of breakfast food imaginable, from bagels to cereal to biscuits. Carefully selecting three cinnamon rolls, an apple, and a few pancakes, I eventually slide into a lime green chair next to Cato at the glass dining table. I immediately regret my choice of seating when I realize that across from me is Rhiannon, and next to her is Brutus.
"Good morning," I say before shoving an entire cinnamon roll in my mouth at once.
"Clove," Rhiannon scolds me, "manners."
I raise my eyebrows and scoff. How dare she?
"So what's the plan for today?" Cato asks, and his raspy tone is enough to make my stomach do a few flips.
Wait. What. I did not just do that. I refuse to believe that I actually just did that.
"Remake Center. Tribute Parade. Dinner. Bed." That's Brutus for you…short, emotionless, and to the point. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Wait," I point out, actually frightened at the idea of not eating for over twelve hours, "what about lunch?"
Apparently the man does have some kind of emotion in his body, because that comment is enough to cause Brutus to emit a low chuckle. "There's no lunch today. It's a technique that the Capitol uses to help the tributes prepare for not eating for hours and even days at a time in the Arena."
"What? I don't need to 'prepare'. I'm a Career!" I huff, crossing my arms across my chest angrily, and I glance over at Cato to see an amused look on his face. "How are you not mad about this?"
"Clove, it's the Hunger Games. What did you expect?" he raises his eyebrows at me, and it's only then that I realize how stupid I probably look.
"I don't know," I shrug. "Certainly none of this 'no food for twelve hours' shit."
Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into me these past few weeks. It's like I'm eating everything in sight, and I've been getting the weirdest cravings at the most random times. Last week, I literally walked halfway across the district to go buy a bag of peanuts because I was almost positive that I was going to rip someone's head off if I didn't have some.
"Oh goodness!" Rhiannon's shrill tone calls me back into reality as she jumps up from her seat at the table. "We're late. We need to leave now!"
"Wait," I protest, "I'm not even halfway done eating."
"Too late! You should have woken up earlier, missy!"
And then she grabs my wrist and yanks me toward the elevator, not even letting me take a cinnamon roll to go. It's like her sole purpose in life is to make this week as miserable as it possibly can be for me.
Once we get down to the Remake Center, it turns out that we weren't late at all, and I'd have had plenty of time to finish my breakfast. Rhiannon, however, was overreacting (as usual), and she'd given us twenty minutes in her stupid schedule to take the elevator down two floors. I repeat, two floors. The woman is a fucking idiot.
After sending me off towards my Prep Team, I actually start to get a little nervous, mainly because I don't think I'm going to react well to a couple of creepy Capitol people stripping me of my clothes and inspecting every inch of my body. They warned us about this while we were back in District 2, but I hadn't really paid much attention to it at the time.
"Helloooo," a lady (at least, I think it's a lady) with magenta hair and yellow skin greets me.
"Hi?" I raise my eyebrows, waiting for directions.
"Take off all your clothes and lie down on that table over there," says a guy with tattoos covering every visible inch of skin.
I'm not entirely sure why I feel so self-conscious of myself when I lay there naked on the cold, metal table, but I do. I'm silent for the most part, aside from a few winces of pain and groans of annoyance throughout the treatment. The hours of just sitting there while my prep team analyzes and adjusts my body so that it's Capitol-ready pass surprisingly quickly, and before I know it, I find myself waiting for my stylist in a cold, bland room.
"Clove?" a voice says from across the room, and I glance over to see a tall, thin lady standing in the doorway. She's dressed in a forest green, skintight body suit with three-inch long fake eyelashes and dramatic eye makeup. Her straightened, auburn hair falls to right below her butt, and she speaks with a strong Capitol accent. Things that look like vines are coming out from her roots, and she reminds me a little bit of the goddess Medusa, an ancient goddess we learned about in my history class back in 2. So maybe she's not the best stylist, but she's certainly not the worst.
I nod suspiciously. "That's me."
"Hi," she smiles widely, revealing teeth so white that I actually have to turn away to avoid being blinded. "I'm Philomena. I will be your stylist over these next few days."
I try to fake a smile in return but fail miserably. It really is impossible to smile at these Capitol people; they're simply despicable, with their abundance of food and carefree lifestyles.
"Alright, Clove. Let's have a little talk," she begins in her thick accent, and I struggle to contain my laughter. "I've been doing this for a little over a decade. I know what I'm doing. You just have to trust me. Can you do that, Clove? Can you trust me?"
I shrug halfheartedly. "Maybe."
"Not good enough," she shakes her head slowly from side to side. "I need one thousand percent confidence."
All she gets in return to that comment is a blank stare, and then I realize she's serious. The woman must be nuts. Suppressing the giggle that threatens to overcome my features, I raise my eyebrows in amusement.
"Whatever," Philomena grumbles as she apparently gives up on trying to get me to "trust" her. "Take off that robe," she says with a nonchalant wave of her hand before handing me something that looks like armor, "and put this on."
In the end, my costume is actually pretty decent, although I definitely could have gone without the retarded looking winged hat. According to Philomena, it's not an outfit if there's not a hat. Ironic, considering that her hat is literally something I could pick out of a garden.
It's nearly six o'clock when Philomena and I meet up with Cato and his stylist by the chariots. I hate to say it, but he looks sexy. Sexy and deadly, but still. His bulging muscles and large stature radiate dangerousness, and if I wasn't part of the Career pack myself, I'd be absolutely terrified of him. "Let's go meet our allies," he says with a smirk as the girl from 1 winks at him.
"Cato," I warn, "remember Adelina? Your girlfriend?"
He scoffs. "Like she's ever stopped me. Or you, for that matter."
I slap his arm, and he doesn't even flinch. "We promised never to speak of that again."
He licks his lips. "I also promised Adelina that I'd never cheat on her, but guess what? People lie."
"Whatever. Your life, your choices," I shrug as I come face to face with the other half of the Career pack.
"Hey," Cato greets them, "I'm Cato, and this is Clove."
"Glimmer," introduces the girl as she bats her fake eyelashes. She's pretty; I'll give her that.
"Marvel," the guy sticks his hand out to me, and I shake it. "You two look very…intimidating."
I smirk before a sharp pain fills my abdomen. "Oh crap," I groan through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to double over in pain.
"What's wrong?" asks Cato.
I wince. "Cramps, I guess."
"Ouch," Glimmer shoots me a sympathetic look.
"I'll be fine," I shrug.
The more I think about it though, the more confused I get. My period is almost a week late, which is odd, considering I've been on a very regular schedule for two years now. It must be the anxiety of The Games that postponed it.
"Tributes," a computer generated voice comes over the loudspeaker, "Please begin boarding your chariots. You have five minutes until we begin."
"So…allies?" Glimmer raises her eyebrows at us.
Cato and I exchange a glance before nodding. "Sure," I say.
"See you in training," Cato winks at Glimmer before heading back in the direction of our chariot.
Shaking my head with a roll of my eyes, I laugh out loud. He's such a goddamn flirt.
For the first half, the Tribute Parade goes exactly as planned. Cato and I stand there and look vicious, surely gaining the attention of almost every sponsor out there. The Capitol people scream our names and wave obnoxiously at us. Things are going impeccably when District 12, of all districts, decides to show us up. First the whole volunteer thing, and now they're on fire – literally. As if that's not enough, the two idiots are holding hands. Don't they know that they are going to have to kill each other within the next two weeks, if not sooner?
I try to brush it aside. If they wanna sit around the campfire singing Cumbaya, who am I to stop them? It's not the smartest strategy, but that's to be expected – they are from 12, after all.
Once the parade is over, I keep my head held high as I scope out the competition. There's a twinge of guilt in my chest as I realize that in less than two weeks, every single one of these kids will be dead. And it's not that I want them all to die. Rather, I need them all to die, for their deaths are the only things that can ensure my survival.
"Well done!" Rhiannon exclaims from behind us.
Cato and I turn around at the sound of her voice. "Well done?" Cato asks. He's fuming. While I was able to get over 12's little fire stunt fairly quickly, he hasn't been able to stop ranting about it.
"Cato," I warn, "let it go."
"Let it go? You want me to-"
I roll my eyes. "Yes, I want you to let it go. It's over and done with. There's nothing we can do about it now."
"There sure as hell is something we can do about it. We can kill those fu-"
"Cato," Brutus interrupts him. "Unless you want all of your opponents to view you as childish and dumb, I suggest you calm yourself down right now."
That's all it takes to shut Cato up. Folding his arms across his chest, he narrows his eyes at the District 12 clan, who are standing across the room making quite a ruckus over their success at the parade. I almost roll my eyes, but then I remember that it's District 12 – success isn't very common over there.
"Let's go upstairs," Enobaria says, and we follow her.
Once we're back in District 2 headquarters, Cato takes off in the direction of his room. A few seconds later, we hear the door slam, and I shake my head. He really needs to learn how to control his temper.
I head towards the kitchen on instinct, but I stop when I hear loud crashes coming from what I assume is Cato's room. Is he seriously going to tear apart his entire bedroom over District 12?
"Clove," Enobaria says, "go tell him to calm the fuck down."
"He's not going to listen to me," I groan, but obey her nevertheless.
Within seconds, I find myself standing in front of Cato's door, and I knock tentatively. "Cato," I say calmly, "it's Clove."
"What do you want?" he roars, followed by another loud bang that sounds like a large object hitting the wall.
"Let me in," I say impatiently.
To my surprise, he opens the door for me, and I step inside. Slowly, I look around the room, which resembles the aftermath of a tornado. There's a hole in one of the walls, and almost all of the furniture has been broken into several pieces.
"Nice job," I smirk, sarcasm lacing my tone.
"Thanks," he laughs halfheartedly before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
I plop down next to him. "Rhiannon is going to kill you."
"Does it look like I care?"
"Are you okay?" I say seriously as I look up into his blue eyes. Something tells me that District 12 isn't the only thing bothering him.
He's hesitant to open up to me, but eventually he says, "I miss 2."
"Oh."
"You don't?" he asks me skeptically.
"Not really," I shrug, and he stares at me, confusion lacing his features. "I had a pretty bad home life," I eventually elaborate. "My parents weren't home often. They were in and out of the Capitol all the time doing promotional videos and all that nonsense. Training for the games was basically my entire life."
As soon as I say it, I mentally scold myself. Why did I reveal that to him? Now he knows one of my weaknesses, which he could potentially use against me in the arena.
"I understand," he admits. "After my sister won a few years ago, I hardly ever saw her."
I nod in response as I glance around his room at the sheer destruction. He was in here alone for like thirty seconds; how on earth did he manage to cause this much damage?
We sit there on his bed in comfortable silence for a while, until he wraps an arm around my waist, causing me to stiffen. "Thank you," he says into my ear.
"For what?" I manage to say.
"For calming me down," he replies, but I barely hear him over my racing heart. Why is his arm around my waist? And why does it make me feel safe? My potential murderer just wrapped his arm around me, and I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy inside…
Glancing up into his oddly comforting blue eyes, I get the sudden temptation to kiss him. But even worse, there's a glint of mischief in his eyes suggesting that he very well may want to kiss me back. And that petrifies me. Never ever in my fifteen years of living have I hooked up with the same person more than once, because that could lead to feelings. And let's face it, the victor of the Hunger Games doesn't have feelings, especially not towards her district partner.
"I have to go," I blurt suddenly as I stand up from his bed and stumble in the direction of the door hurriedly.
"What? Why?" Cato asks, and I can see in his eyes that he thought he was getting somewhere with me tonight. I almost groan.
"I need to shower and get a good night's sleep. Why do you care?"
He shrugs, snapping out of whatever trance we'd been in. "I don't. See you in the morning."
"See you in the morning," I reply nonchalantly, taking one last glance at the destruction in his room before walking out and closing the door behind me.
With a sigh, I collapse onto my own bed, alone with only my thoughts to keep me company. I'm not entirely positive what just happened between Cato and me, but I know that it's completely changed the way I view him, not just as an opponent in these Games but also as a person. And that makes my blood run cold, because I know better than anyone that tributes who go into the Games with even an ounce of emotion towards another tribute usually don't come out.
AN:
It's been 7 long months, but I finally updated! So a huge thank you to everyone who's kept this on their favorites/alerts for all this time. I really do have a ton of stuff planned for this story, so please bear with me & my sporadic updates.
I hope you all have a blessed Mother's Day – make your mama's feel special!
Anyways, please review & favorite & follow! It means the world to me :P
~xoxo~