CLOVE POV
A/N: Sorry for being away for so long, guys :/ I have no excuses :( Enjoy this next chapter! and let me know if you spot the Orphan reference ;D
Disclaimer: I don't, nor will I ever own The Hunger Games or it's characters. I'm just playing chess and they are my pawns...
GAH! Why is that girl so infuriating and WHY am I so worried about her!? I only went to the bathroom to calm myself down because I was getting nervous about the whole chariot thing and there she is looking like a goddess, trying to slash her wrists! What's that about anyway?
"Hey Clove, get over here!" Cato yells to me, cutting off my internal monologue as I make my way to him. I can see Katniss from the corner of my eye, being told off by her district manager in the silly wig and the too high stilettos about her hands. Katniss looks guilty and my heart twists in my chest as I realise that she's going to get into MORE trouble if they realise that she intentionally cut her forearm. I'm interrupted by an arm sliding round my waist and I start growling, twisting away from the trapping hold.
"I swear, if you touch me again Cato, I will cut your tiny little prick off before you even realise what it's for" I hiss angrily at him and get onto the chariot before he can say anything or touch me again. Out of the corner of my eye, Katniss is glaring at Cato but I manage catch her gaze and her expression softens for a split second. Then she turns away, angry again and clambers onto her own chariot. My eyes flick to the front once more and my mentor rushes over to give us some last tips.
"Now, Clovey, you need the crowd to like you to get sponsors. You're a career, so people are going to be looking at you. Smile, wave, be charming and the costume will do the rest. Blow. Them. Away." He tells me before turning to Cato and I try to put on my best smile for an audience that will be baying for my blood in a few days. My eyes widen before I accomplish getting my emotions in check. I'd forgotten that the games start in less than a week. They told us that we'd get three days to practice with the other tributes, then there is some Game maker thing where we have to impress them, and then we'll have an interview with Ceaser Flickerman the night before the games start.
The chariot starts moving as I'm contemplating the idea that I will be hunted by 23 other teenagers in about 5 days. I try not to dwell on the knowledge that I could be dead in the next few weeks.
"No, I can't afford to think like that" I mutter to myself just before the chariot is out in the open and I force a smile onto my face. Charming. I have to be charming. I wave and smile at the audience, some of whom are calling my name. These people make me sick but I try my best to look fearsome yet sweet, to make an impression on them, to be someone they will bet on, someone they will sponsor. It's working too! People are showering us with roses and other flowers and tokens, hoping we will wear them. We, the dead, are somewhat celebrities to these dingbats.
Suddenly, there is a commotion at the back. District 12 is causing a ruckus but I have to keep smiling. Nobody is calling my name anymore and I am startled. Have I done something wrong? Have they read my thoughts about them? No. They are all searching their programs and now they are calling out two names only as a goddess' face, wreathed in flames, is shown on the screens. Katniss! They scream. Peeta! They scream. They shower her with the roses that are supposed to be mine, with the praises that are MINE. I try to be angry and jealous but I can't be because she's smiling and waving, she's even blowing kisses to the crowd and they are eating it all up, loving it and for a moment, she looks so happy to be needed, wanted and loved. A group of them reach out their hands as if to catch her kiss, as if it is a tangible thing. They all want her kisses. I want her kisses a small voice whispers in the back of my mind and I squash it down. Cato is simmering with jealousy and anger beside me, trying to not let it show on his face. Not that anyone is paying attention to us now. District 12 has literally outshone us all.
We're reaching the end of the runway now and I flick my eyes up to the screens again to see Katniss and Peeta are holding hands. My anger bristles instantly and I grit my teeth, trying to hide my emotions.
HOW DARE HE!? I rage inside my head, only keeping myself smiling by imagining all of the ways in which I could kill him. String him from a tree and slit his throat, smile as a knife pierces his chest, make it slow and just starve him to death, cut a major vein and let him bleed out. Make a small cut but make sure it gets infected, the possibilities are endless and I like the idea of all of them. Lover boy will die. Katniss is MINE. I growl in my head, as I realise that all of the Chariots are in a semi-circle now and we're waiting for President Snow to speak.
Wait. Why did I say that? Katniss isn't mine. I don't even know her. I think as Snow gets up to speak and raises his hands to quieten the crowd.
You know she harms herself though. I bet Lover boy doesn't know that my heart whispers and I smile smugly, happy in that knowledge. The white haired man who rules Panem sits down again and we are pulled back to the stables where our style team encircle us immediately, giving us congratulations and singing our praises. Cato is glaring at District Twelve as they hurriedly make their way to the elevator. I catch Katniss' eye and smile secretly. Her eyes smile back at me and I know she has forgiven me.
"Let's get you to your rooms, shall we?" My district advisor says cheerily and we head up to floor 2.
So, what did you think? Leave me a review?
~Perita-BrightEyes~