Chapter 3

I fling a knife right into the chest of a dummy about 20 feet in front of me. I smirk in cold-hearted pleasure, knowing in two days, I'll be doing this for real. Cato walks over with that grin plastered to his face, chuckling.

"Nice job, my little Clove."

'Ugh... I told you not to call me that.' I think, rolling my eyes as he tugs me into a rough, under-arm hug.

"Thanks." I stifle a laugh, trying to keep my cool.

A couple of hours later, we're all waiting in line when all of a sudden, Cato screams at the boy from District 6. "You took my knife, 6!" He yells, shoving him onto the concrete floor.

The boy gets up quickly, shoving him back with a surprising amount of strength. "I didn't take your knife, District 2!" He's keeping the same tone as Cato: Loud and pissed. Cato makes an attempt to throw a punch, but is dragged back by Peacekeepers.

I smirk to myself, crossing my arms. All this raw aggressiveness sinking into Cato is starting to come out. Making him more bloodthirsty than ever. He snarls at the boy as the whistle blows and we're pushed back into line, jabbing his finger at the boy's chest.

"Just you wait, District 6. Until the Arena. Watch your back, 'cause you'll be the first one I get!" He smirks, turning and tearing a sword from the weapon rack, taking his anger out on a dummy.

The head tumbles onto the floor, rolling at the boy's throat. I just can't wait to see how Cato acts in the real Games.

I'm dressed in a red and pink dress. The top, strapless, and the skirt, short. I inspect myself in the mirror, spinning a few times. Well, I still look threatening. Good. But threatening. My dark hair is pulled up in one big roll atop my head, the rest done in smaller hoops. I wait in the line behind the stage, talking to Cato until my name is called by Caesar Flickerman.

I'm greeted ecstatically by a screaming crowd, a smile from Caesar, and bunches of cameras.

"Welcome, Clove." He laughs, offering me a seat.

I sit down quickly, crossing my legs, resting my hands on my lap.

"So, Clove, how are things going with training?" He asks, his broad smile still chiseled to his face.

"Only fantastic, Caesar." I smirk with a charm, looking out to the audience.

This gets a bunch of whoops, cheers, and a rowdy applause. I wave, laughing and turning back to Caesar. He smiles brighter.

"Amazing. And what do you think are the perks you have, skill wise, that will help you in the Arena?" Caesar asks, crossing his hands over the arm of his chair.

"Well, I throw knives. I never miss a target, I'm intelligent, and I'm vicious." I force a bragging smile, receiving more applause from the crowd.

Caesar lets out a gasp, placing his hand over his chest. 'Over dramatic Capitol scum...' I think silently, keeping the same smile on.

"Amazing, Clove. Amazing." Caesar smiles, nodding his head.

"And are you ready? For what the Games have to offer you?" He asks, patting my wrist.

'Oh... Gross.' I think, feeling his skin contact mine.

I snap out of my thoughts, slowly nodding in response. Then, I speak.

"Absolutely. I'm extremely ready to show all of Panem the magnificence I have to offer. The strength, the wit, and the skill." I laugh strongly, proudly, knowing most of this is true.

"Fabulous, Miss Ensis! Just fabulous!" He gushes, standing and shaking my hand.

"Ladies and Gentleman, Clove!" He announces, before calling Cato on stage as I rush off in my high heels.

As soon as I'm in the hall, I tear them from my feet, rubbing them out.

"Damn shoes..." I mutter.

Sev arrives shortly with a pair of boots, letting me slip them on gladly. As I lean against the wall, waiting for Cato, my heart pounds in my chest. Thoughts of tomorrow crawl into my brain, flooding my thoughts. I just can't wait until I get my hands on a knife and show Panem who I am.

'I'm Clove Ensis, I'm 16 years old, I'm from District 2, and I'm going to win the 74th Annual Hunger Games.' I think, a wry smirk creeping across my lips.

I fold my arms, watching Cato walk off stage. Who cares if he's big? Who cares if he's my District partner? I'll kill him anyway. One day or another.

We slip into the elevator, residing to our rooms. I shower quickly, removing all the traces of make-up from my skin, and dive into bed. Only because I'm too eager for anything else. I need the Hunger Games. And I'll thankfully get them tomorrow.