"No one is going to remember us now!" I shout as I storm through the lift doors into our quarters. I'm temporarily taken aback by the sheer size of it but it doesn't take me long to continue the complaints I'd been voicing throughout our lift journey. Jealousy does not sit well with me, and neither does being outshone.
"Of course they will! You're District Two tributes – careers!" Brutus yells back, clearly not happy with my outburst; he probably puts it down to petty envy. Which I suppose it is, but we won't have as good a chance of winning if no one remembers who we are. You need sponsors to survive. And you need to make an impression to get sponsors.
"He's right, Clove," I feel Cato's hand on my shoulder but I shrug it off.
"Of course I'm right!" Brutus snaps, "I'm going to get a drink, you children get yourselves to bed. We'll talk strategies over breakfast," He knocks over a glass vase as he storms past; causing Louella to scream and a servant to scurry over and clear up the mess. The way he calls us children rubs me the wrong way, but he's right, I'm making a fool of myself, overreacting over a silly girl in a silly outfit. Whatever. I tell myself I'm above such things.
Cato insists on spending the night in my room, to protect me from the nightmares. I don't protest; I plan on spending as much time with him as I can before the inevitable happens. I fall asleep to Cato stroking my hair and I find myself feeling peaceful for what could be the last time.
Morning comes too soon and when I wake I find Cato must have gone to breakfast without me. I dress in a plain outfit that I can move easily in; today's the first day of training and as my stylist failed to help me make an impression on the audience, today it is up to me to make one myself on the other tributes.
When I arrive at the table I find Cato and Brutus deep in conversation, Louella trying desperately to attract Enobaria's attention which is currently devoted, like mine, to the delicious looking food laid before us. I help myself to a plate full of crisp, pancakes with a sweet, golden sauce before turning to my mentor.
"So, today is your first day of training," she starts, "We already know you're good with knives, so I suggest trying to learn how to use a new weapon so you have more options. But if you show your skill with knives it will impress the gamemakers and scare the other tributes, so don't forget to do that too. They'll have survival skills stations but if you can secure the cornucopia then you won't really need them." Enobaria stabs a fried potato with her fork and I'm struck by the cockiness of our district. Not sparing a thought to the survival skills because we're so confident that we won't need them. I personally think learning a few survival skills wouldn't hurt, but it's not the kind of thing you voice out loud. Not when you're from District Two and you mentor has given you specific directions to do otherwise.
"Which brings me to alliances," Enobaria's golden teeth glint as she smiles, "District One are your definite choices, anyone else who looks strong is a possibility."
I don't want allies. I want it to just be Cato and I. But even I can tell this isn't a good idea, so I keep quiet and finish my pancakes.
The tribute training centre is an underground level; a large room with sections for weapons training, starting fires, climbing apparatus, an edible plants test and much more. But the thing that catches my eye as soon as I enter the room is the rack of knifes, glinting dangerously, calling to me. Not far from them is a sword that I can tell Cato is watching without even looking at him. I want to grab his hand and run to the weapons so we can train together like we did in the weeks before the reaping; play fighting and kissing. But the scared faces of the children who will soon be dead reminds me why I'm really here.
I start to see them for what they really are – children; children who must die, who I must kill, who must try to kill me. I'm shivering but it's not remotely cold in here. I want to curl up into Cato's chest and let him rock me to sleep like he did last night, but I cannot do that here. He's standing a foot away from me, not looking at me at all. I guess Brutus must have said something to him about our close proximity. It's a shame, because without Cato's arm around my waist to hold me together, I'm starting to lose my grip on reality. I keep myself from crumpling to the ground by repeating You are a winner, Clove. You and Cato are the winners. These people are nothing, in my head. Of course they're not nothing, I know this in my heart, but I have to find some way to justify their deaths or I'll just go insane.
The trainer is telling us about the different training stations; reminding us not to ignore the survival skills and warning us that there is to be no fighting between each other because we'll "have plenty of time for that in the arena". When she's finished babbling Cato and I head straight to the weapons section. To my surprise he hands me the sword and picks up a heavy looking metal object for himself.
"Try something new right?" His voice sounds breathy and attractive and I curse myself for thinking of such things at such an important time. We try out our new toys for a few minutes; Cato is strong and can throw the metal thing quite a distance, but I find the sword too heavy and clunky to be of much use to me. Before we get the chance to try something else, we are greeted by the District One tributes; Glimmer and Marvel.
Both are taller and look stronger than me but I quickly find out that Glimmer is incompetent with any weapon she tries. For all her flirty, bravado I could take her out easily. Luckily Marvel is much better equipped for the games and is particularly skilled in the use of a spear.
I'm struggling with one of the heavy objects Cato had earlier when I, much to my embarrassment, drop it not far from my foot. I hop back and hope it went unnoticed. It didn't.
"Are you sure you're qualified for the games? You seem a little...well, little, to me," Glimmer's sultry voice is in my ear and the heat rushes to my face. I spin round to face her and give her my dirtiest look but as she's much taller than me, it doesn't have the intended effect.
"At least I can actually use a weapon!" I retort, "A pretty face isn't everything."
"Not that you'd know, you don't have one." She hisses back; her crystal blue eyes narrowed in anger. Stay above it, Clove. She's not worth it. Glimmer tosses a blonde braid over her shoulder and looks over to where Marvel is teaching Cato how to throw a spear with more accuracy.
"Don't worry, when you die in the bloodbath, I'll give him something to live for," Glimmer's voice is seductive but cruel as she winks at me and then looks back and waves coyly at Cato.
I let out a shriek and suddenly my fists are pummelling her stomach with such unexpected force that she falls over. I climb on top of her, screaming and scratching at her, doing anything to try and hurt her. The Peacekeepers have to pull us apart.
I'm still shaking as Cato's arm slides round my waist. I'm not sure whether this is meant to be reassuring or restraining, but the simple fact that he is here next to me and not next to Glimmer soothes me. I let my head rest against his side even though all the tribute's eyes are upon us.
In the corner of the room, with the boy from her District, I see Fire Girl's piercing grey eyes fixed upon me but I can't tell which emotion lies behind them.
I throw knives at targets and imagine they are Glimmer until I'm allowed to leave.