It's a gloomy day. Perfect. Grumbling slightly, I slid out of my bed, a huge chunk of stone carved out and fitted with plump a mattress and fluffy sheets and blankets. A typical District Two bed. I throw my blankets into one hasty pile on top of my bed, having no time to make it.
A slight breeze of wet tickles the back of my neck as I reach into the wooden dresser for clothes, and I whirl around. To my annoyance, I've left the window open and there's a huge puddle of water on the floor from the night rain. Now only a faint drizzle blows in.
Scowling, I slam the window shut, and the panes rattle vigorously. Fully in a bad mood, I tear off my silly, lacy, cream colored night gown, and stuff it under my pillow. There. Catching I glimpse of my self in the mirror worsens my mood.
I'm naturally small, but I look particularly tiny and scrawny, my rib cage showing clearing through my pale, white skin. My small dusting of freckles across my nose has swelled, and I glare at the colony of them. They don't seem to care. Of course, idiot. They're freckles!
My black hair is twisted in a knot at the nape of my neck. After a while, I don't really bother taking it out, but today is the competition, and I need to look my best. At least I have a distinct outline of muscle. Deciding that the mirror has ruined my mood enough, I stalk over to the curtained off bathroom.
With a deft twist of my hand I turn the shower, and warm water squirts down from the shower head, as I step into the shower, not minding the piles of sludge and dirt that have accumulated over time. The water refreshingly trickles down my neck, and loosens my knot of hair into tangled waves.
I rub of a bit of the Capital imported cream into my hair, and then rise it out thoroughly, the sweet lavender vanilla scent making me wheeze. After a few more delightful moments in the shower, I mournfully twist it off, and pull down a fuzzy red bathrobe from the hook by my sink.
I wrap it around me and then set to work on my snarls of hair with a ivory comb. Soon they fall loose and flat around my face. Much better. I set down the comb on the shiny surface of the sink and then push the curtain aside.
"Finally," says an amused voice, and my heart stops. Cato.
...
What the hell? What the hell is Cato doing in my bedroom? I'm in a freaking bathrobe! But there he is, slouching against the open doorway, smirking slightly at my embarrassing state, and I instinctively clutch my robe tighter to me, even though it's already wrapped securely around me.
"What the-" I start off furiously. It's probably a good thing Cato cuts in, because that sentence wouldn't have ended well.
"Calm down Clove, I'm only here to walk you to training," he smirks, arms crossed across his chest. I glare heatedly at him.
"You could wait downstairs. Politely," I snap, and he smirks further, looking infuriatingly pleased with my discomfort and anger.
"But you were taking so long," he moans dramatically, and I really want to smack him. And I do. Cause I can. He looks hurt, but I know better.
"If my dad knew you were up here-" I begin a rant again.
"He's not home," Cato says, victoriously. Oh, well...what were you expecting Clove? That he might actually stay and wish you luck? I blink quickly, avoiding Cato's eyes. He looks a little guiltily, but doesn't say anything.
"Well, I need to change first," I say in a drawling tone, rolling my eyes. Cato smiles slowly and devilishly, and I raise my eyebrows, sending him a piercing glare.
"So?" he says, and now I know he's teasing. I soften slightly, punching him lightly in the shoulder.
"So get in the freaking bathroom!" I say, laughing. He smiles at my laughter, and it's a real genuine smile, not one of those nasty smirks. I think I'm the only one who has ever seen his actual smile. He only shows it around me.
"Okay, okay," Cato, grins, hands up as he strides into the bathroom, pulling the curtain shut. I walk quietly over to my dresser, and pull open some drawers, rummaging for some clothes.
"And no peeking!" I call, but I'm just joking. He snorts loudly from the bathroom. Finally, I find what I need, long, tight, gray leggings, a black short sleeve T-shirt, and my beat up gray army jacket. I crouch behind my bed, just in case, and shed the robe, pulling on my clothes.
"Alright, I'm done," I say once I'm finished. I slip into my tall, lace up, black boots and grab my pre-packed gym bag. Cato pushes through the curtain, smirking.
"Oh, this is all so funny to you?" I say, glancing back at him, as we proceed down the spiral staircase. Surprising, what I thought was going to be a bad day, has changed drastically. This is one of my good days, when I'm almost...normal.
"Kind of, yeah," he says, trying to contain laughter. The two of us walk out the front door into the gloomy day, and into the city of District Two.
Tall stone arches crisscross the city, as every house is made of stone. Craggy mountains surround our little District, looming and forbidding. Despite the rainy bleakness of the day, and the stone, bright banners and signs line the stores, and beautiful carvings are engraved into the houses and shops.
I smile brightly, letting the rain cascade softly onto my face as we walk around. I feel like a little girl, the little girl I should of been. This thought brings a slight frown to my face, and all like that, everything darkens, turning blank and rock colored, and I pull the jacket tightly around me, blocking out the rain.
The carvings are less prominent, and even the colors seem to be fading slightly. I sigh unhappily. Cato's fingers grope for mine in the sleeves of my jacket, and they calm me a bit. He searches my face, confused at my change of mood. But I keep my thoughts boiling under my skin, not allowing them to shine through. He looks almost sad.
Cato and I have been friends for what seems like forever. When I was little he found me throwing knives in an uncontrollable rage at my door, and instead of being scared of my anger, was impressed. I could only have been five, and he was seven, but we bonded instantly, the popular kid, and the outcast.
I could of been as looked up to as him, seeing that I could throw a knife better then a twelve year old, but I think it was my anger and unstableness that threw people off. But Cato, Cato was the golden boy. Strong, skilled, and handsome, he was immediately the new sensation, our future Victor. But me, I was always forgotten. I was 'that girl that Cato always hangs out with.'
Now as we enter the training building, I feel utterly closed off from Cato, more alone then ever before, despite his hand around mine...
...
"Alright! Today we will be testing you in several area, survival skills, strength, and weaponry," Cravat says, as we all stand up lined before him in our age groups. I stand with about ten other sixteen year olds, whom which I have all surpassed years ago.
"I want the twelve, thirteen, and fourteen years olds staying here, to be testing in survival skills with Clio," Cravat continues in his loud, booming voice. A tall thin women with long black hair and a cold expression gestures slightly to her self. There are several moans from the kids, they all want to grab a knife and stab a dummy. Come to think of it, so do I.
"The fifth and sixteen years olds will head over to the wrestling room with Carter," Cravat shouts, pointing at a huge man I immediately recognize as Carter Marthwood. I leave my face impassive, because it's also what I'm thinking. Some of my fellow sixteen and fifthteen are grumbling, but really, I excel in everything. I stride over to Carter, the others trailing behind me. He grunts to acknowledge me, and then starts out the door. Dimly I hear Cravat announcing that the seven and eighteen year olds will be starting in weaponry. Typical.
Carter ushers us into the wrestling room which is all set up with different stations. Thankful, everyone has the sense to be quiet and face him as he shuts the door and turns towards us.
"Now, I know you all want to slam someone's head into a wall, but despite the name of this room, we are not only wrestling," Carter growls, pacing back and forth. Some petite strawberry blonde girl next to me swallows. I smirk softly. I am am the top dog here.
"Now, I want you to divide your selves among the activities, and I will be walking around and inspecting you. Don't a single one of you dare to fight over stations, there will be time for everyone," Carter snaps, motioning for us to disperse. I'm already gone, quietly but decisively walking to the wrestling station.
The strawberry blonde girl gets there second, but gulps when she sees me and quickly walks over to the next station. A tall dark haired boy my age swaggers up to wrestling, his eyes never even flicking to me once as he pulls on his protective gear. Mistake. I'm already sizing him up, and I immediately know how to beat him.
I remember him vaguely from when I was young and didn't practice alone. His name is Clart, and if I remember quickly, he was as big as a show off when we were twelve as he appears now. Muscles, but no brains. Clart finally straightens up, glancing at me, bored.
"Aren't you going to put your gear on?" he asks lazily, cracking his knuckles. He clearly thinks he can crush me, he's not even really looking at me anymore.
"I think I'm good," I say pleasantly. His eyes finally snap into focus on me, but they are amused.
"Seriously? I think you better put your gear on," Clart laughs snidely. I will take pleasure in beating him up. The other kids are sending him wide eyed warning looks, but he ignores them. Carter stalks up to us.
"Are you guys ready yet?" he snarls, uncapping his pen savagely. Clart swallows slightly.
"No. She won't put her gear on," he says in a whiny voice. Totally immature. Carter writes something down on his clipboard and then slowly looks at me.
"She doesn't have to," he says finally, "it's her choice." I restrain my self from grinning cheekily at Clart. Clart makes a small growling noise, and then glares at me.
"Her mistake," he snaps. Ha, that was your mistake. I lunge, taking him by surprise and knocking him over. He goes flying across the padded arena, bouncing clumsily in his ridiculous suit. I sprint forward, tackling him as he struggles to his feat. His muscles flex as he locks iron fists on to my skinny wrists. I wince at the surprising pain, but easily twist my way out and grab both his wrists in one swift moment. I slam his head down in another, and dig my knees into his side, keeping him down.
Never show mercy, Clove.
My father's voice echoes in my head, and rage flies out of me. I grab Clart's throat, and slam his head down so hard that he looks dizzy even with his helmet. I switch my position so that my knees are on his arms and punch him hard in the face.
I've already won, but I continue punching him in the face until I can't see flesh. Everything is soaked in blood... After a while I feel Carter's tentative hand on my shoulder. He immediately whips it back, and I know why. I have a tendency for getting a bit out of control.
I stand up and wipe Clarts blood off my face with an equally bloody wrist. Silently Carter hands me some paper towels, and I wipe the blood off my face and clothes. Carter nods to me, a small sort of cruel grin on his face. I am exactly what they are looking for. A monster.
Clart is moaning on the floor, and a team of doctors clean him up. Without a backwards glance I walk over the weight lifting. There are several medicine balls of various weights. The muscly boys are all groaning and sweating, trying to lift the heaviest one. I stalk over to a large boy and snatch the weight away from him, barely wincing at the new weight. They all glower at me. Me, a skinny tiny girl. Them, huge muscular boys. They can't pick it up. I can.
I practice chucking the weights at a few targets for a moment before moving on.
You've got this Clove.
...
Now I stand in survival skills as Clio quietly and coolly explains the different stations. I take in everything at once. A rock climbing wall that collapses upwards as you climb, a tall net strung high in the rafters, a lower net for climbing across, fire making, trap setting, animal tracking, water finding, shelter building, and weather detecting.
Clio dismisses us and I head for weather detecting, the least popular thing. A small weedy instructor looks delighted to see me and explains the changes in weather, and how to sense and escape from weather vigorously. I nod intently at every detail, storing everything in my brain.
Next I learn how to build a shelter in twenty different ways, and in twenty different settings. Every instructor looks impressed. At water finding I learn the different places water is found, and the signs of water, and in animal tracking I am soon an expert in following and hunting animals. Not that you weren't already.
At trap setting the instructor explains how to set deadly traps that spring out of no where, and I get a sick picture of being trapped in a net, vicious careers jeering at me from below, jabbing me with their weapons. Idiot, you are a career!
As I move into the more active stations, they are mostly empty. I can sense Clio trailing me like a shadow. She is impressed too. With no effort I spring up and latch onto the net, quickly swinging from knot to knot, until I hop off at the end. Good job Clove. I'm pleased with my self. So far, no mistakes. But no doubt Ivy hasn't messed up either...
Next I inspect the high net. The only visible way to get up is shimmying up the tall wooden poles that hold it up. They must be about three stories. But determinedly I bear hug the pole, pulling my self up.
Immediately I realize it's the hardest thing I've done. Soon I'm sweating and gasping for breath, but force my self upwards. Come on, Clove! Up, up, up, up...
My thoughts are turning blank and in one fatal mistake I loosen my grip. Crap, I'm falling. My instincts kick in and I reach for the pole, sinking my nails in. I start to scrape to a painful halt and red stains my finger tips. My nails are gone... Angrily, I pull my self up the rest of the way, finally collapsing in the net. For a few moments I cradle my fingers, letting the blood soak into my jacket.
I pull my self up slowly, finished taking a breath. Gently I lower my self back onto the pole, and let my self slide slowly down. When my feat touch the ground I force my face impassive, hiding my pain. Clio studies me slightly, writes something down, and sweeps off.
I hobble over to the rock climbing wall, exhausted and out of breath. But I've been doing this one for years, and I know every foot hole, and easily scramble up the falling wall. The wall stabilizes as I ring the bell, and then I quickly scramble down, done.
...
Cravat doesn't even speak to us, just stands looming by the door, eyes sweeping over all of us. I know what to do. I hurry over to the knife station. The same strawberry blonde girl from before glances at me; she's already there. But this time she doesn't flee, and continues chucking her knives at the target.
She's holding the knife wrong, too stiff and tense. She also needs to adjust her stance, she doesn't need to stretch her leg out like that. Thoughts immediately fly through my head, but I push them away, retrieving my knives. This is about you, Clove. Focus.
I whirl a few knives at the target, do some tricks, and try some long distance. Every knife hits the center, but I'm bored, searching for a challenge. Miss strawberry is backing away again, clearly outshone, but I glance around quickly. Cravat has stopped watching me and moved on to something else.
"Hey, you," I hiss to the girl. She whirls around in surprise, trembling slightly. I guess everyone saw me with Clart...
"Calm down- wait, what your name?" I say impatiently. She blinks large lavender colored eyes at me, but they are narrowed with focus, fear, and some slight...interest. I take this as a good sign.
"Blossom," she says quietly, her eyes still sizing me up. I can't control a snort, her name sounds like one of those ridiculous names from District One. She frowns, looking a little offended.
"Look, Blossom, your stance is all wrong. And you need to relax your grip a bit," I tell her. A small, sudden, glare crosses her features, and it's surprisingly fierce.
"Just because you're, well, Clove, doesn't mean you can boss me around! You think you're so much better everyone else-" she growls furiously, like a little wolf. I am startled by the venom in her voice, and feel a small prick of sadness touch me. You really are a monster to everyone else...
"It's okay, I was just trying to help," I say softly, turning to go get my knives. Her soft rosy hand touches my shoulder and I instinctively flinch. Whenever someone besides Cato touches me, it's usually to hurt me...
Blossom looks surprised, and then a little sympathetic. She takes her hand away from me and then turns away. I'm a little surprised until she picks up a knife. Her grip and her stance is more relaxed and in one swift motion she wings the knife directly into the dead center of the target board. Then she turns to me.
"Thank you," Blossom says, smiling slightly.
Maybe you aren't such a monster after all.
...
Cato's face is a picture of determination as he slashes at the dummy. He wields his sword like a third hand, fast, flexible, and deadly. The shiny blade twirls through his fingers as he lunges, striking the shredded dummy, and then spins around, sinking his sword through the head of the dummy.
I'm transfixed watching him, but then again, he's always like this when he's fighting. Finally he notices me, and stops, wiping the dripping sweat away from his brow with the back of his sleeve.
"Hey Clove," he says, leaning on his sword, still panting a bit. I give him a half smile, because right now I'm so nervous that I can't even speak. He looks nervous too, at least nervous for being Cato and all. Only I could tell that the white knuckled grip on his sword meant he was unsure.
"What if I don't make it?" I finally say hoarsely. It has been several hours since the competition, and I am awaiting the results, which will be announced this evening. The sky is already darkening. Cato abandons his sword, which makes a loud clatter falling to the ground, and walks swiftly up to me, strong fingers grabbing mine.
"Listen Clove. Nothing will happen, nothing at all," he says soothingly, his thumbs rubbing the backs of my hands. I hold a sob in my chest, because he's wrong. So wrong. My father will hurt me like he usually does.
"Your father can't do anything to you," he says, seeming a bit angry as a traitorous tear leeks away from my eye. But not angry at me. For me. But now I am angry at him.
"Yes he can! You forget, Cato, that the he won the games too!" I yell, clenching my fists in fury. The world is swaying around me, but I am precise and vicious as I swing my fist towards him.
"Clove," barks Cato's sharp voice, and like usual, I'm started out of my angry daze. Four knives are held delicately in my hands. I stare. I was going to punch him, not stab him! But apparently not. The knives fall to the ground.
"I'm sorry," says Cato more gently, even though I should be the one apologizing. I don't say anything, but he understands. Just then two bell chimes ring out. Three means the reaping. Two means the winners of the competition will be announced. I stare hollowly at Cato.
He grabs my arm and tugs me to the main room. Everyone is unusually quiet as they crowd around Cravat, even the kids. Ivy and Leif stand by the doorway, arms folded. The rest of the eighteen year olds have similar positions. But Cato stays with me, and I manage to breath evenly.
You're such a typical career, Clove. Hyperventilating about what will happen to you if you don't get chosen for a fight to the death. But honestly, I fear my father more then the games...
"Today!" calls Cravat, clearing his throat, "All of you showed your skills to the best of your abilities in a difficult contest. Only two of you, were good enough for the games." He pauses, to let that sink in.
"And those two were..." he clears his throat again, checking a tiny slip of paper. My heart pounds, and Cato squeezes my hand.
"Clove," Cravat booms, and there is no joy, like I expected, in my heart. I am happy, yes, but more shocked. He really picked me! Now I can get away from my father, training, the stares of everyone, and really bring pride to my District.
"and Cato," Cravat finishes, looking up. Oh no...
And, that's the end of chapter two! Like it? Review please!
I was so happy at how many people liked my story! If you didn't review, you favorited me. If you didn't favorite me, you at least put my on your alerts!
Review answers:
Starriseandsing- I'm glad you think it's good! :)
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A Very Scary Tigerish Berry- You better go pick up the huger games, and read it right now! At least the first one! :) they are amazing! I like the summery to, I was particularly proud of it! XD Yeah, I didn't really like the name either, but I couldn't think of anything... If any of you have ideas for the title, feel free to suggest them! Anyways, thanks for the review!
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Review please!
-Madi