CATO

He watched her for a long time, it seemed. He watched as she opened her mouth, but he didn't hear the words. All he could hear was the voice in his head, saying, "You are the biggest loser this world has ever known." He'd done it. He'd ruined everything, because it was so disgustingly obvious that his feelings weren't reciprocated. He could have just apologized and patched up their friendship. But he didn't. He chose to pour his heart out in a split-second decision, which completely backfired. "You are the biggest loser this world has ever known.

When his hearing had returned, Clove was saying, "…and you might have to get out, because you're so out of your mind, Cates. It's okay. Grab a drink or something. You're, like, delusional. And, um, hey, are you even listening?"

Something was wrong. Clove was talking too fast. It was like she couldn't find the right words so she was covering up with loads of them. Cato must have been assuming, he did that quite a lot, but he also knew her for almost seven years. He knew when she talked normally, and he knew when she didn't.

"You don't believe me," he said quietly.

When Clove said, "I'm sorry but I don't," the fight inside him was put out. All the fires were quenched. All the guns and the bombs were silenced. All that was left was his broken pride and heart. Nothing more was there.

"I told you the truth."

"Oh, God, Cato, you need to rest. We were just fighting normally, like we always do, then you turn our conversation into this? What is wrong with you? Are you pressured about the Games or something?"

"You asked for something that's not a lie and I told you!"

"Please. Just go."

"Clove." He pronounced her name carefully, like it would explode in his mouth. He was practically begging her to believe him. And then he thought it was a bad thing, because even if she did believe him, it wouldn't mean that she would love him back.

"Cato." Her voice was low. "Please. I'll have none of this. You won't, too. It's going to be better that way."

"Tell me you believe me."

She was silent. She turned away from Cato and looked out the window. The late afternoon sun was slowly making its way through the clouds. After a while, Clove said, "I need to have some time with myself."

And he gave her that, because their situation was so hopelessly pathetic it hurt. When Clove turned again to tell Cato to go away, he was gone.

CLOVE

Cato was gone. He left her alone. Clove got what she wished for. So why was she feeling this bad?

"One day, you're going to wake up and realize that you're a teenage girl, and teenage girls feel," Mayelle said to her once. Mayelle was her next-door neighbor. She was four years Clove's senior, but they played around when they were little.

Mayelle's dead. Don't think about her, Clove thought.

"I love you." That's what he said. That's what he told her was real. She now understood why people had to be careful what they wish for. They just might get more than what they asked for.

Clove locked the door and crashed into her bed, wide-awake. She looked at the world outside and saw the sun. She always saw the sun first. When it had turned into an orange marble in the sky, she watched it intently, trying not to think of Cato and her absurd little feelings, until it disappeared, leaving behind a gold, blood-red sash across the sky.

"Dinner time!"

Somebody was knocking. Clove didn't know she'd fallen asleep. With a yawn and a stretch, she got out of bed and was almost out the door when she remembered that dinner meant having to see Cato. I could eat here, she thought, but realized that not showing up would raise questions, and questions would raise rumors, and rumors would raise lies. Lies: ugly little monsters that she despised so much.

In the end, she decided to go to the dining area and eat with the others. Good thing she showed up, because Cato didn't. Having both of them absent would mean bigger controversy.

While she was digging through her food, Enobaria asked, "Have you seen Cato?"

"No."

"I heard you fighting."

Several pairs of eyes looked at Clove. Enobaria, Brutus, her stylist and Cato's, their escort.

"We hadn't been fighting." That was all she said. Nobody looked like they believed Clove, but she wasn't going to give them an explanation.

Dinner proceeded quietly. After, Enobaria cornered Clove on her way to her room.

"You've got an hour with me tomorrow for the interview."

"Got that," Clove said.

"And, another hour with the escort, whatshername?"

"Okay."

"Are you okay?"

"Do you want to know the truth?"

"You're not going to tell me anyway."

"You're right."

Enobaria smiled. She could have been Clove's mother. She was always cool, polite, and motherly when she was herself, but when she wasn't, well, those surgically altered teeth weren't obtained for nothing.

"Let me tell you a secret, Clove," Enobaria said.

"Make sure I don't know that one yet."

"Oh, scratch it. You already know it, judging from the fact that he didn't show up for dinner tonight."

Clove scowled. "What?"

Enobaria was laughing softly. "Oh, you teenagers are so cute, but remember, you're going to the Games. Only one can win, Clove. Sort out those feelings before they get out of hand."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know full well what I'm talking about."

"Then tell me what to do."

"I'm not in the position to do so, but here's something: Don't be a fool. How's that?"

"I'm not a fool."

"I wasn't meaning it literally. Figure it out."

When Clove was silent, Enobaria scoffed, "Oh, I can't believe I'm giving you advice on your little love affair!" Then she went.

Hours upon hours of night passed, and all that time, Clove's eyes were open, and she was thinking that the situation she was in was so horribly confusing. She didn't like any of it. She didn't know where to stand, what to feel, what to say. And it wasn't helping that she was going to the arena just a few days away.