CATO
The general population would agree that the best way to release one's frustrations and aches was screaming or shouting or bellowing or just making a lot of noise, but Cato was not part of the general population.
Meaning, he spent his entire first day of training saying nothing at all. The others watched him warily, like they were afraid he was going to pounce on them when he got the chance. Even Clove, who dismissed their first real conversation since they arrived in the Capitol with stinging words, looked like she was worried. But Cato didn't care. That day, he planned to just give everything in pretending like he was already in the arena, fighting for fame while the others fought for their lives. That day, he thought only of himself, like a true tribute from District 2 should.
Clove didn't talk to him, either. That was just the kind of people they were.
Cato watched the other tributes like they were his personal demons. He wondered who among them he would kill, who among them he would laugh at while they bled to death at his feet. He wondered if he would feel any different, or if he would still feel like the person he grew up believing he was: a boy who sent many souls into the infirmary, a boy who learned more than fifty ways to hurt a person when he was just thirteen, and a boy who never knew a life without all the bloodshed.
The obstacle course was the easiest thing in the world; they were taught how to scale any level of obstacle courses in their first year. He couldn't help but shake his head, grinning, at all the effort everybody else was putting in the simplest of tasks. The spear-throwing booth attracted his attention, so he stayed there the longest. About thirty minutes into it, someone coughed behind him.
It was the girl from District 1. Tall, blonde, girl-next-door pretty. The kind of girls back home who tripped over themselves talking to him.
"You're good at this!" she squealed. Cato ignored her.
"Well, you're welcome," the girl said, rolling her eyes, then walked away, her hips swaying.
Cato kept on throwing spears, so much so that about half of the tributes stopped what they were doing to watch him. Accomplished, he straightened up and looked around him. Only Clove and the girl from District 12 weren't looking at him. Clove was intentionally ignoring him; he knew that much, but the girl from 12 didn't seem to notice him at all. She didn't seem intimidated by him, which made Cato more intrigued. We'll see how unafraid you are when I personally deliver your letter from hell, he thought, then moved on the swords section and made every dummy bleed straw until it was time for lunch, until he was sitting next to Clove, just staring at her hands as they moved as she talked to the other Careers and just listening to her voice as she spoke, which seemed so beautiful but was actually a rusty dagger stabbing ugly holes in his heart of hearts.
CLOVE
"No, I don't like you. I can't even remember your name," Clove said to the boy from District 1, who was already making moves on her. They'd known each other for about two hours. She'd said 'hi' first, but that was only because she couldn't bear the silent treatment Cato was giving her. Now this guy was probably thinking she was on to something.
"Alright, alright! Chill, Clove," he said, as Clove slapped his hand away.
"Why don't you flirt with Blondie here?" Clove teased, totally ignoring Cato who sat beside her in the Career table because he really didn't have much of a choice.
"That's what I told him, but he didn't listen. Marvel likes brunettes," Glimmer, the girl from 1, said with a beam. "Your partner isn't speaking, and I don't think he's mute," she added.
For the first time that day, Clove didn't know what to say. But Cato graciously looked up from his food to Glimmer, and said casually, "I was just wondering if you and Marvel had something going on, but now that I know you don't, well, that's more space for me, right?"
Glimmer blushed and she didn't even try to hide it. "But you ignored me when I praised you," she said.
"That was me being cool," Cato said. Then Glimmer and him got into a conversation and seemed to forget that they had company.
Clove knew he was bluffing, but it rubbed her the wrong way. It was almost painful. Real painful. She never really thought about this kind of stuff then, but now, could it be, could it be… that she liked Cato? Absurd. She almost laughed out loud. Of course, she liked Cato. They wouldn't be friends now if she did not like him. But the idea of liking him actually made her smile inside. She felt like a real girl. Almost. Then she dismissed the idea as foolishness. It would not do to think like that in a time like this. For the next two days, Clove poured her heart out in training. She still talked to the others, but rarely. Not once did Cato approach within a foot of her.
Marvel (she remembered his name now, alright) bugged her endlessly, so much so that one time on the third day, before the private sessions, she actually spat profanity at his face. It did not work. Marvel told her she was beautiful and that he liked her and it was okay if she didn't like him back.
"Really?" Clove asked, her guard down. The venom in her voice had gone away.
"Yes. I knew it from the first time I saw you," said Marvel, getting close and touching her face.
"Okay, go away," Clove said, pulling her arm back, but Marvel had a grip like iron.
"No, I like it here," he said. His face was about five inches from Clove's.
"You're disgusting. I'm giving you five seconds to leave me alone or I'll spit on your face."
Closer. She could smell his breath. Marvel was stronger than her, so she couldn't push him away. Clove was already gathering up her saliva at the back of her throat, ready to spit. And just as his face brushed hers, a great force pulled Marvel away from her and sent him crashing to the floor. Marvel swore, but his assailant wasn't done. He punched him in the face, possibly breaking his nose. Marvel got up, shaking his head, but it was apparent that he wasn't going to fight back.
"Go away," Cato said coldly.
"I've always known it, Cato," he said, laughing as he went.
Cato approached Clove. "Are you okay?" he asked forcefully.
"Yeah, yeah," she said, her mind buzzing.
He gripped her shoulders roughly. "He didn't touch you?"
Clove had recovered. "I wouldn't let him, stupid. What do you think?"
"Oh, good," Cato said, relief palpable in his voice.
What happened next was something Clove never thought she would do. She stepped forward and hugged Cato, tears streaming down her face. She missed him so much. Cato just held her, whispering again and again, "I'm so sorry, Clove."
