Chapter 11:

Why is it so important what I wear? Why do people care what I wear? Clove sighed at her reflection in the mirror and she slumped her shoulders down again. She poked her stomach and rested a hand on her pinched waist. She wanted to find some piece of nice clothing that wasn't so tight and not overly revealing. It just wasn't her thing. Bending down to retrieve the clothes she had thrown on the ground, Clove heard a knock at her front door. She hastily tossed on the loose top and shorts and then dashed outside.

The chilly air blew in just as the door was opened. At her feet, on the porch of her house, Clove saw a small black box with a half done bow on top. She scooped it up with both hands and then peered outside to check if the deliverer was still around. They weren't. Turning back into her house, Clove felt slightly giddy inside with the box between her fingers. She quickly walked over to the nearest table and set it down, pulling off the little yellow bow. She lifted the lid of the box and a smell of rose petals gushed into the room. Ew. On top sat a little white card titled 'On this special day.' Clove picked it up and flipped it over to read the message. In scrawled, bold handwriting it said: Where this tonnig* tonight. Fr, your sercert secer shit, is it secret? admmirer. PS, happy brithday! Clove threw the card down on the table after she had read it the second time. It was from Cato, she knew it. How could she not? His handwriting was always big and bold, the O's weren't very rounded and the E's were too big compared with the rest. But as atrocious as the spelling on the card was, it bought a smile to Clove's face.

She looked down at the box again and folded the blue tissue paper up, revealing what was underneath. It was a piece of black fabric, soft when she ran her fingers down the middle. Clove picked it up from the top two corners and it unfolded itself into a very small dress. It looked like Clove's black training tank top only this one was a bit longer, up to the middle of her thigh if she was lucky. Its fabric was stretchy but it would cling to every body that wore the dress. The straps were thick with black diamond sequins on the seam lines as well as the hem line of the dress. Clove sighed in frustration. Of course Cato would buy her something like this. He loved making fun of her. She set the dress down lightly on the table beside her and pushed the box away from her.

A small rattling came from the box as it slid on the table. Clove pulled it back and peered into it again. Crumpled down in the bottom corner was a necklace. She reached in and pulled it up by its chain. The face of the necklace was a silver knife the size of her smallest finger. Clove grinned. This, she loved. She ran her fingers down the coolness of the knife before putting it over her head. The tip of the knife came just to above her navel. Grabbing the dress, the card and the box, Clove ran back to her room again.

The first thing she noticed while entering her room and putting her present down on the bed was the time. The clock on her wall read 6:45. Shit. Kaylee's party started at seven. Clove hurriedly stripped off her clothes but then stopped suddenly. What was she going to wear…? Her phone on top of the dresser clicked. She growled, reaching for it and flipped it open. Hry up! Im waitin outside n its cold. Grls n there clothes I will neva understnd it, Cato's text message read. I don't understand your texting, Clove thought to herself and set the phone down. She stalked over to her bed and grabbed the dress Cato got her, what other choice did she have? She also grabbed some under garments from her draws and put them on before pulling the dress on over her head. It fell down just under her bum, slightly brushing her mid thigh. Her body was exposed at every angle with the tightness of the fabric. The neckline was rounded, slightly deep. Too much. Clove snarled at her reflection before rummaging through her closet for something to wear over the top. She found a red knitted jumper, the sleeves and hem tight and the rest was loose. Perfect. She also found the only pair of boots she owned the pulled them on. They were black ankle boots and they had little 4 inch heel. Done. Tugging the necklace out of her jumper, Clove raced out to the front door again.

She pulled the door open, breathless. Cato stared back her reddening face. He looked bored to death, leaning against the railing of the porch. He wore dark blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt. His hair was pushed up messily. Clove's red face wasn't just from the running anymore.

"Don't you look dashing," Clove said, breaking the awkward since. She walked over to him, her shoes clinking on the decking. Cato straightened up.

"Dashing? I don't know… I'd prefer handsome, striking or downright hot," Cato said with a smirk. Clove stared back at him, her face blank. Cato ran his hand down the side of his face. "Dashing will have to do for now," he concluded.

"Right. Shall we go now?" Clove asked impatiently. Cato walked up towards her, his eyes raking up and down her body. She felt instantly self conscious and pulled her dress down as far as it would go.

"Nice dress," Cato said, tilting his head sideways.

"Thanks," Clove answered sarcastically. "I got it from as secret admirer."

"Oh, really? Who is it?" Cato said, a smile creeping onto his face.

"I don't know, actually," Clove replied and then grinned. "Didn't I say secret admirer? Or did you only understand sec-ret? Or maybe ser-cert?" Cato pressed his lips together.

"Shut up," he said, smiling again. "Let's go."

"Great idea."


Downtown was like a heart, the beats of the music throbbing on. The metal walls made the warehouse hot and stuffy, especially with all the people dancing and moving about. It was dark but the fluorescent coloured lights illuminated the floor. There was no literal dance floor but the gathering of bodies at the centre of the warehouse indicated that it was the place where you could feel free to grind your body up someone else's. Which was pretty much what everyone was doing. Around the outside of the dance floor, there were tables of liquids, mostly alcohol. Finally, all the drunken couples would assemble at the walls of the warehouse and suck each other's faces off… or worse. Clove felt sick even before actually entering the place.

The smell made her nose tingle, just as every strong scent did. It was the horrible smells of sweat from the dancers and partiers. Alcohol mixed in with the smell and it all became vial. She didn't even know where to start.

"Come on, let's go in," Cato said loudly over the top of the pulsing music and held out his hand. She took it as he led her in. It had only taken a quick five, maybe six minutes to walk there. The two of them had endlessly chatted about this party and what to expect. Clove still dreaded entering Downtown but made herself go anyways, maybe just for Cato. It's not like she was scared of the laws in the district or anything. The rules there were strict but completely flexible, though; punishment was severe to those who were caught.

The music thudded on louder as Cato and Clove approached the table of beverages. The ground felt like it was vibrating under her feet and Clove grabbed the edge of the table for support. Cato leaned into her ear, his lips brushing the loose strands of her hair.

"You get used to it," he said. His breath tickled her neck and she shuddered. He pulled back and winked at her, a light from the dance floor flickered pass his face making his eyes exuberantly blue. Clove quickly turned to grab a drink from the table trying to hide the red glow spreading on her cheeks. She grasped her fingers around the first red cup with what looked like gold liquid. Just as she put the cup to her lips, Cato caught her hand and took the cup from her.

"What?" she said loudly.

"It's alcohol. Don't think you have a high intolerance," he replied, his voice drifting into the music.

"It's a party, just let me try," Clove said, waving her fingers at his face.

"You want to try something? Dance with me," Cato said then laughed. Clove posed her hands on her hips.

"Oh, that's no way to ask a lady to dance! Don't you remember what you told Penn at the school dance?" Clove laughed now and Cato rolled his eyes.

"Clove, will you please do me the honour of accompanying me for this dance?" Cato said, bowing his head and holding his hand out like a gentleman.

"I don't know how to dance," Clove answered bluntly.

"Too bad," Cato smirked and grabbed her hand, towing her towards the cluster of sweating bodies. They wedged into the crowd and found themselves at the heart of the dance floor. Everyone was swaying their bodies to the music, like the world was spinning around with Cato and Clove at the centre. Song after song pulsed on and Clove found herself enjoying it. She moved a bit awkwardly and robotically but no one noticed. Sometimes she lost her rhythm and slipped away in the dance, lost from the metrical beat but Cato would find her and direct her back to the music.

After the fifth or so song, Clove felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around and saw that Penn was standing behind her. He grinned at her. A sarcastic grin, Clove thought. Cato raised his eyebrow at Penn.

"What do you want, Faceless?" Cato said in a sharp voice.

"Was gonna ask Clove for a dance. Been a while since I last spoke to her," Penn replied.

"She's occupied tonight," Cato snapped.

"You've got her for the whole night, I'm just asking for one dance." Clove sighed and held her hands up to stop the two of them.

"Oi, I get to make the decisions for myself, not you," she said loudly, glancing at each of them. "And I do feel like dancing with Penn so if you don't mind, Cato. I won't be long."

"Okay, I'll be by the drinks," Cato huffed, glaring at Penn. He turned and disappeared into the crowd. Clove turned back to Penn.

"What do you want?" Clove said.

"A dance. Didn't I say that?" Penn replied, impatient. Someone bumped into Clove at the hip and she lost her footing. Penn quickly grabbed her by the waist with both arms and pulled her up, steadying her. Clove shrugged him off.

"Don't touch me," she said instead of thanking him. "You know what? I don't want to dance with you. So I'll be going now."

"Where? Back to Cato? What is with you two now? Youse together?"

"You ask a lot of questions. And for your information, no, we're not together. Just friends," Clove replied, her top lip curled slightly.

"Sure, whatever you say. But friends are just the middle of two things. More than friends and you got a romance, less than friends and you got an enemy."

"I prefer the middle."

"Think of the middle as a boat between two islands. The boat can't stay on the sea forever, Clove. You gotta go somewhere sooner or later."

"I've taken the down road-," Clove said, frustrated.

"Oh, so now you're taking the up road," Penn cut in. Clove sighed, exasperated.

"Whatever, Penn. I'm going now." She turned away before he could say anything else. "Dickhead," she muttered under her breath. Clove navigated her way into the crowd, weaving in and out. Finally she was out of the huddle of dancers and making her way towards the beverage table. A giggling couple walked passed her. Their steps were out of line, drunk. She ignored them and quickly walked over to the stacks of red cups but Cato was nowhere to be seen. Clove ran her hands through her now tangled hair and leaned against the table.

In the corner of her eye, Clove saw a sparkly figure walk towards her. Kaylee. Clove rubbed her forehead on her palm and grunted to herself.

"Clove, you made it!" Kaylee said, positioning herself in front of Clove.

"Jolly," Clove replied.

"And you look alright for once." Kaylee's eyes ran up and down Clove's body.

"What do you want?" Clove said, brushing a strand of hair off her top.

"I was just going to invite you have a drink," Kaylee answered, gesturing to the drinks. She picked up a small cup filled with liquid and gave it to Clove. Clove took it but didn't drink the blue, sparkly content.

"But this is alcohol."

"So?" Kaylee said, tipping her drink down her throat. "If you want my opinion on this, I'd say, drink it. No one likes a wuss, especially not Cato." Clove's face reddened. Just one drink won't hurt.

"Fine," she said and poured the stuff down her mouth. It tasted sweet, like berries laced with alcohol. She cringed at the strong fusion flavours and then wiped her mouth.

"See? Wasn't that hard, was it?" Kaylee stepped in closer to her. "Also, between you and me, just wondering if there was a reason for your dress to be that short? I mean, I would totally understand if it were easier to be in something like that for… something that may or may not occur tonight. With Cato. In fact, I think that's the best outfit for it!" Clove mouth hung open.

"What are you trying to imply, slut? You're the one sleeping around. You know, first Dean and then trying to get Cato-," Clove said, almost yelled.

"Jealous?" Kaylee posed. "You're just never going to get Cato. Especially if you're just a party pooper with the ability to just digest one drink. Seriously, you're so lightweight. How many fingers am I holding up?" Kaylee held up one finger, her middle finger. Clove squeezed the plastic up in her hands and threw it at Kaylee. Her anger blinded her and Kaylee flicked the cup away easily, walking off. Clove turned back to the table of drinks and grabbed the first one she saw. She chugged its contents down. After throwing the empty cup on the ground, she went for another. And another. And another.

She had chugged down six full cups of fruity alcohol before Cato returned.

"Woah, Clove! Calm down!" he said, yanking her seventh cup out of her hand. Clove let out a high pitched laugh and threw her head back.

"Oh my gosh," she said in between laughs, "that laugh was sooooo not me!" She laughed again and stepped backward. She tripped on her heel and Cato caught her.

"You're drunk, let's go home," he said flatly.

"But it's so much fun here! I wanna stay!" Clove protested still half laughing.

"Not a chance." Cato bent down and picked her up in his arms, carrying her to the entrance of Downtown.

"Oh, okay then," Clove said softly and rested her head on his biceps. She was quiet for the rest of the way home, taking in all the scenery. District Two in the perspective of a drunken person was very different.

It was about four minutes since they had left Downtown before Cato put Clove down. She swayed a bit on her feet and then slightly steadied herself.

"Why did you put me down?" she poked her bottom lip out.

"You're heavy," he answered, grabbing her hand and leading her forward. She squeezed his hand and swung their arms backwards and forwards like children in a playground.

"I'm going to miss your manly, muscular arms," Clove giggled.

"If only I could record you saying this and play it back to you tomorrow," Cato muttered. Clove swung their arms faster, making it more obvious to anyone looking.

"Little baby sleeps in mountains," Clove sang. "The whistle came and took him away."

"Clove, stop. You're a horrible singer," Cato said. She didn't listen to him.

"Mother crows her mournful sigh as her child thrashed for life," Clove continued, then paused. "The child grows, he burns. The mother weeps, she freezes. The child victorious, the mother gone." Clove hums on for a few more notes and then stops.

"Done?" Cato muttered. "What a depressing song." It was called the song of the mountains, sang only by those a long, long time ago.

"Sing with me, Cato!" Clove laughed. She bounced up and down on her feet as she walked.

"We're here, so there's no need," Cato replied, stopping at the door to Clove's house. He found the key under a potted plant and unlocked the door. The house was eerily quiet and empty; Clove's parents were working away from home.

"Oh! I love my home! It's so pretty, don't you think?" Clove squealed, twirling around in the darkness. She tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground. She lay back on the ground instead of getting up and laughed loudly. Cato kneeled down next to her and pulled her to his knees.

"Come on, let's go to your room," Cato said, picking her up. He carried down the hallway towards her room and kicked the door open. Setting her down on her feet, he switched on the light. Clove stumbled to the bed and fell down onto it giggling madly. "Ok? Now go to sleep." Cato turned for the door but Clove called him back.

"Come here, please." She beckoned him towards her and he did just that. Cato sat down gently on the edge of her bed as she crawled towards him. Clove rested her head on his shoulder and look up at Cato. "Will you sing me a song?" Clove grinned.

"What?" Cato stared in disbelief. Clove slid back on to the bed and sat at the centre, waiting.

"Pleaseeeeeee," she begged. Cato shook his head. He was about to get up and leave when Clove grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down. She lay flat on the bed, while he was on top of her, only his arm and knee supporting him up. "You're no fun." Suddenly, Clove reached down to her jumper and pulled it up, over her head. "It's really hot in here." She giggled and then winked. Clove wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tried to pull him closer.

"Clove… what are you-," Cato began, his face warming red.

"Your hair!" she exclaimed. "It's so soft! Woaaah!" She laughed loudly to no one in particular and tried to pull Cato down more. He refused to budge. "Fine! Be a party pooper!" Clove smiled wickedly and then abruptly, she pulled herself up far enough to kiss him full on the lips. Cato was frozen to the spot. Clove let go on her hands and fell back to the bed, laughing, her body arching up. Cato's face was frozen in pure shock, his eyes wider than an owl's.

"Was that really necessary? Would have been fine if you were sober but…" Cato mumbled to himself. Clove was still in a fit of laughter and Cato threw the blankets open. "Get in, I'll sing you a song. And then you will go to sleep."

"Yes, sir!" Clove climbed in under the sheets and patted the spot next to her for Cato. She beamed widely and bounced up and down like a kid waiting for its bedtime story. What a happy drunk. Cato obeyed and climbed in, the bed was just big enough for both of them.

"What do you want to hear?" Cato asked. Clove snuggled down onto the pillow and pondered.

"The song of the mountains," she replied cheerfully.

"The one you were singing before?"

"Yep!" Cato brushed his hair back and sighed. Clove hitched closer to his hip and looked up at him.

"Fine."

Little baby sleeps in the mountains

The whistle came and took him away

Landing in the terrors, and nightmares

It distanced, it shrivelled, far, far away

Mother crows her mournful sigh

As her child thrashed for life

She stared, she watched, she cried by the moon

Mother lies by the mountain, far, far away.

The child grows, he burns

Deep in the forest night

He is courageous, he is innocent

Oh, all that they can do, far, far away.

The mother weeps, she freezes

On the bloody, rocky soil hills

The child victorious, the mother gone.

Once a story, now a song, far, far away.

*Meant to be strike out, but FanFiction doesn't have it.