Chapter Three

Cato put on the clothes his mother had picked out for him. The three of them gathered around the table to eat what could be their last meal all together. They hardly said anything. When the time came, Cato filed out of the house with all the other teenagers to head towards the city's center.

He searched the crowds for a glimpse of Clove's black hair, but he couldn't see her anywhere. The officials pricked his finger, but he hardly noticed it. As he was pushed through the crowd towards the front of the lake of people, he caught a flash of black. Clove? Maybe. Either way, she was too far away for him to catch her.

He just wanted to say goodbye.

Cato waited on the side with the boys through the introduction, the video, the talking.

Then: "First, the ladies." A manicured hand reaching into a crystal clear jar. Mixing the small papers up. Resurfacing with one of them in tow. Unfolding the paper. "Palea Grome." A small girl started to move towards the stage, but someone- a voice that didn't belong to Clove- spoke up.

"I-"

"I volunteer as tribute!"

Everything stopped. Cato could hear nothing but the words echoing in his head. Words spoken in a voice that sounded a lot like Clove's. But it couldn't be hers. She was going to stay in District Two, Cato was going to survive the Games, and they were going to have their wedding when he got back.

But then a small girl with sleek black hair stepped out from the crowd. She met his eyes, smiled a sad smile, raised her hand in a half wave, then proceeded to the stage.

"And what might your name be?" the announcer cooed in a too-happy voice.

"Clove Sevina." Her eyes searched the crowd, and she probably made eye contact with her parents. Despite her wandering eyes, she stood tall, confident. Like nothing could shake her.

Then the announcer moved to the next jar. "Now for the gentlemen." Her hand swam around the pool of papers.

Please don't be me. Please don't be me.

All Cato knew was that he had to go to the Games now. There was no backing out. For Clove.

"Trinton Banks."

A large boy who was probably on the older end started to move through the crowd, but Cato didn't give him a chance to get any more than a step in.

"I volunteer as tribute." He kept his voice as calm as possible, stepping through the crowd with ease.

When he joined Clove onstage, it took every ounce of his willpower not to envelope her in a hug. He settled for the handshake that all tributes did. Then they were shuffled back to the rooms where their families and friends would come to say goodbye to them.

Cato didn't have to wait very long in silence at all. The door burst open with his mom and dad standing in the hallway. His mom rushed forward, tears wetting her eyes.

"I told you not to get too emotional. It's only going to make this harder," came his dad's warning from the threshold.

His mom straightened up, but she still enveloped Cato in a hug. "I love you. I'm going to miss you. I can't wait to see you back home. Be strong," she whispered in his ear.

Then came his dad's turn. He stepped forward, silent for a moment. Then, "Son, I am very proud of you. I have the utmost confidence that you will perform well. You're going to make each and every one of us here in District Two proud to be your friends, family, and neighbors." He outstretched a hand to shake it, and it looked like his speech was over, but then, when Cato clasped his hand, he pulled him in for a hug.

"I love you, son. I always have. That's why I've been so hard on you. I just want what's best for you. I love you," he whispered.

Cato couldn't remember the last time he'd heard those words. It probably hadn't been since he'd started training. He was probably six or seven. Tears started to glisten in his eyes as his dad stepped away. Cato did his best to blink them away.

For a moment, he couldn't say anything.

But then his dad said, "See you when you get back."

And his mom blew a kiss and burrowed her face into his dad's shoulders.

Just as they were about to walk out of the room, the words flew out of Cato's mouth. "I love you too, Dad. I love you both. See you soon."

His parents waved, and then the door shut behind them. Surely no one else would be coming to visit Cato. He didn't really have any friends- training kind of took that away from someone- and his parents were the only family he had.

So Cato practically jumped when the door opened again. His trainer wasted no time. He walked right up to Cato and began the rundown.

"I just stopped by Clove's room. Cato, I'm going to tell you what I told her. Get sponsors. Listen to your mentors. Don't be predictable. Be quick on your feet. I have trained you well. I'm sure one of you will come home with that victor's crown." Then, just like that, he turned and walked out of the room.

A few more minutes of silence of followed, but then one of the Peacekeepers ushered him outside and into the car that awaited him and Clove. Just outside the window stood his parents, Clove's parents, and their trainer. Cato waved at all of them, not daring to smile lest he break into tears. When the car had driven away from the crowds of people, Cato turned to Clove.

He smiled at her. "We can do this," he mouthed.

"We'll get through it." She smiled back.