Hey guys. Well, I see in your reviews that my last chapter wasn't the longest you've read. I apologize or something 'cause, like, I only read chapters that long. Longer makes me feel... bored. Idk. Maybe there's something wrong with me.
But then again, I am a fangirl and EVERYTHING is wrong with me. ;)
Anyway, new chapter! I think this one is really boring though. Oh well. :-)
do me a favor and follow me on twitter? hutcherwife_
On with the story.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games
Cato stood there for a moment, with his mouth open; about to say something. Then the bell rings, and he just walks away to a table on the far end of the room. He doesn't say anything else, or glance back at me. He just walks away.
With a numb feeling surrounding me, I walk towards the lunch line with a forming thought. He just saved me from getting... molested by that freak, I think. The thought is supposed to be comforting, but it makes me shudder instead. To think that I almost got into that terrible situation! It's disgusting! I involuntarily shudder again.
I sit down with Rue and Thresh. They were quiet today, and I can tell why. They were dreading the training scores, dreading the time that they would face the Gamemakers. After all, our fate is in their hands. Who wouldn't be terrified for that? Everyone would be.
Well, everyone except the Careers. Everyone except Cato. Their confident grins stand out in the whole room, making them shine among the sea of gloomy faces. Everyone lost their humor today, except them. They laugh and joke around at their table. They toss food, occasionally, at each other; without a care in the world.
Except Marvel. Marvel doesn't laugh with them. Marvel doesn't throw food at Clove or Glimmer, the people who he catches attention from the most. Instead, Marvel shuts himself out from the group. He cowers from Cato-who sits across from him- and glares at his food, his head down. He does not speak, he does not eat. No one bothers him.
I still haven't answered them. Not yet. I'm going to have to clear it up with Haymitch, too. Even if he's drunk all the time, and never serious when he's sober, he always knows the right thing to do and say. He's our mentor, after all.
Lunch goes by slowly, and I am glad. Like the others, I don't want to show my face out to the Gamemakers. I don't want to 'impress' them just for the sake of entertainment. I don't want to reveal my skills to them; for those skills are the ones I only share with my family and Gale.
The silence in the room is terrible. Well, it is almost silent. But the echoes of laughter from the Careers are still heard, even if we are seated on the farthest edge. Cato's laughter howls the loudest of them all, and each wave causes a pang in my chest, making me think of how he is enjoying this so much and how I wish I was the one making him laugh. If only things were different; if only we didn't fight.
If only he didn't have to leave.
Selfish, I scold my self. Selfish, selfish, selfish. I am so selfish. I didn't want him to leave because I am selfish. I didn't want us to fight because I am selfish. Disgusted with myself, tears pool in my eyes. Selfish.
Rue sees them and she grabs my hand. She gives a gentle squeeze, one I am grateful for. I give her a small smile, blinking the tears away. She gives an even bigger smile and we go back to eating. If Thresh notices anything, he doesn't mention it.
Then the lunch bell rings again, which signals the end of lunch. I cast a terrified and worried look at Rue. She has the same look on her face. This time, I reach to her and hug her warmly, trying to soother her the way I do to Prim. Rue hugs me back.
All the tributes line according to their districts. Glimmer is first, and she smiles triumphantly. Behind her, Marvel raises his head and brings a confident smirk on his face. But that attitude doesn't fool me. Every blow Cato made must've still ached.
I feel someone's eyes on me. I look behind Marvel and past Clove, and see Cato staring at me. Speak of the devil, I thought. He has a worried look on his face, which is surprising; since he usually keeps his emotions cast aside and his face impassive. But now, his eyes have lost the hardness that everyone is familiar with. Cato mouths something to me.
Good luck, he said.
He turned back and faced Clove. Her eyes were searching his face, as if decoding the secrets his face holds. She looks at me. Her eyes are questioning, and I find myself getting confused. Since when do Careers have sides that we all don't know about?
Glimmer looks at Clove. She puts a smirk on her face, covering her previous reaction. Well played, Clove, I think sarcastically, Well played.
The speaker buzzes. Everyone in the room jumps. Some swear. Behind me, Peeta huffs surprisedly on his breath. I can imagine his face, scowling at the speakers. I fight a smile off her face.
"Glimmer Careyn," the speakers announced. The voice is monotone and formal, and definitely formal. Glimmer turns back and looks at Cato. She puffs her lips out, and winks at him. She gives a flirtatious giggle and walks towards the gate to the other room. The gate-surprisingly- opens and she walks in. There must be cameras in this room.
At the corner of my eye, I see Clove scoff. Marvel has a smirk on his face, but he doesn't turn around to meet Cato or Clove's eyes. Coward. Cato turns away from the other two Careers and the two tributes from Four, but I see him roll his eyes before he does.
One by one, the tributes file in. They come, and go. We don't get to see their scores, and what they do. We are just feel the dread rising up in our stomachs, clenching our hearts and choking our throats.
This is the time to show them what you can do. Haymitch's voice rings out in my head, his powerful words echoing like waves. He, of course, is right. He was right in the beginning, for telling Peeta and I not to show our strengths. And I was a fool to stand up to Glimmer. Now they know my strength, and somehow, they might use it against me.
The last tribute of District Eleven is called, before I know it. My hands are sweaty. My heart is pounding. I realize, I am next.
Bow and arrows, I think. Get the bow and arrows.
Beside me, Peeta shifts. He takes one look on my face and knows I am worried. Surprisingly, he just grabs my hand and gives it a soft squeeze. I fight the urge to slap his hand away, and just smile at him.
Too soon was I called. Too soon had the speaker rung out, "Katniss Everdeen."
My turn.
I am halfway towards the gate when I hear Peeta's voice.
"Katniss," he says.
I whirl around to find him staring at me. He is still seated, with his blond hair matted to his forehead from sweat.
"Shoot straight," he says.
I nod, not knowing what to say, and turn back. Well that was awkward, I think. That situation was... odd.
I step inside the new room. Almost immediately, the gates begin to close with Peeta behind them. I can barely see the outline of his figure, but I know he is there. He nods his head, as if saying, Go.
So I go.
The room is fairly big. It is composed of all the stations that they had in the training room, excluding the climbing station. Though I don't know why. The Gamemakers must have thought that it would have been no use to them, or for the other tributes.
Whatever.
Briskly, I walk towards the archery station. There sits the bow I've been using for the past two days. That holy, silver bow that I'm practically used to handling already. I grab an arrow and notch the bow, holding it still, and-
Wham!
The arrow sails through the air and lands on the red line.
It didn't even hit the bulls-eye.
I stand, surprised that I missed. Chuckles are emitted from above, surely from those wretched Gamemakers. They're laughing at me. No. They're taunting me. This infuriates me even more, watching them laugh at me and get so engrossed in a stupid roast pig and-
Wait- roast pig?
My eyes travel to Seneca Crane. He catches everyone's attention as he raises his glass. Everyone cheers, and enjoys the sight of that stupid, dead, roast pig. Dead. I am upstaged by a dead pig.
I am on the brink of losing it.
I can feel my anger radiating through my skin.
If this was a cartoon, I bet I'd have steam above my head.
Grabbing another arrow, I aim it towards the apple of the pig. I give myself a few seconds to cool off, to debate with myself before I let go of the arrow. But it's too late.
I already let go.
The arrow sails through the air with surprising speed and hits the apple and pins it to the wall.
Bullseye.
Shocked faces. Open mouths. Wide eyes. Surprised stares. Angry glares. They are all directed to me. One man even fell in a bowl of punch; which would have made me laugh any time. But not now. This is no laughing matter.
I smile, innocently at them, and say mockingly, "Thank you, for your consideration." I leave the bow on the rack, and storm out of the room; leaving them with their mouths gaping. Good.
I don't go back to the twelfth floor. The others, especially Haymitch and Effie, would've wanted me to explain what I did. And I couldn't afford to tell them, after wasting their effort of keeping their tribute alive. Effie would probably faint.
So I go to the roof. And head to the garden. The wind whistles, and it blows on my back. I take off the tie to my hair, and let it flow freely on my back. The scent of flowers is carried by the wind, making it smell like perfume. I lie down on a bench, close my eyes, and relax.
Minutes-or hours- later, I am shaken awake by a dark figure. I bolt upright immediately- facing the attacker. It is too dark to see his face. I realize that I have fallen asleep on the bench, and now my back is stiff and so are my limbs. I groan, involuntarily, and rub my eyes. I try to focus on the figure of my attacker, but it's just too dark.
"How did you get it?" The voice sounds familiar. In fact, the deep tone sounds a lot like-
"Cato?" I double take.
The figure-Cato-nods. "How did you get it?" he asks again.
I groan. "Get what?"
He scowls, and says, "Your training score!"
I give him a confused look, willing for him to see me. "What training score? They already released the training scores?"
I may not be able to see him, but I know he just rolled his eyes. "You got an eleven."
I sit, shocked, and try to digest what he just said. I got an eleven. Eleven. That is the first time anyone's ever gotten an eleven. I made Hunger Games history. I shake out of my trance. "Are you serious?" I ask.
Cato barely nods. "Yeah, it was on television minutes ago." Cato pauses. "How long were you here?"
"I went here after I shot an arrow at them," I say softly.
Cato grabs both of my shoulders. "You what?" He shakes me.
I flinch. "Calm down, Cato, I was ticked off, okay?"
His breathing slowed down, and he took his hands off me. "Okay."
He grabs my elbow and makes his way to the elevators. I know what he's going to do. He's going to bring me back. I sigh, knowing that sooner or later I'd have to face them all. He gets in the elevator and drags me with him. Inside, he punches two buttons. Twelve and Two.
The elevator starts to go down, and I have barely enough time to say, "Thank you," when the elevators stop and arrive on my level. The doors open, and I was about to go out when-
Someone dragged me inside the floor.
And punched Cato right on the face.
I gasp, surprised, and shriek. Haymitch drags Cato to our floor, too. Cato was too surprised to react. Just when the elevator doors closed, Cato shrugged Haymitch's hand off his collar and threw him to the floor. I yell again.
"Stop!" I say, "Stop it! Both of you!"
Haymitch tries to punch Cato again. Surprisingly, he succees. Cato's face is red with anger as Haymitch gets on Cato, but someone pulls him off. Peeta.
"What the hell is happening?" he asks me.
I don't answer. Instead, I glare at Cato and Haymitch. "What did you do that for?" I ask Haymitch.
He ignores me. He says to Cato, "If you touch her again I'll make sure Brutus doesn't send you anything," he threatens.
"He didn't touch me! He found me on the roof! Asleep!" I yell at him, frustrated.
Cato ignores all of us. He stands up and walks back to the elevators. The doors close behind him, and they descend, bringing him with them.
Perfectly pissed off, I march to my room and make sure to slam the door. It closes with a loud bang, and I sink down on the bed. Frustrated tears make their way down on my cheeks. I close my eyes, not anticipating what tomorrow will bring.
