I could tell from the stale smell of liquor that my father had been drinking again.
It wasn't that difficult to read on his face, either. The corners of his mouth turned down fixed in a permanent frown; his distant stare.
All were vivid indicators of his impaired judgement.
My mother, on the other hand, was a raging ball of fury and passion nearly all of the time.
People said that I was a perfect combination of both of my parents. They proclaimed that I got my intensity from her and my quick wit from my father. But whenever anyone would mention this, I would scowl and point my knives at them.
I didn't want to think of myself as the product of two other individuals, I just wanted to be myself.
But now, as the eyes of both of mine and Cato's parents bore into me, I wanted to shrink back and hide behind the defenses that my parents had prepared me for.
"What is going on here?" my father growled, the stench of whiskey permeating the air.
"Nothing" I mumbled as I glanced at Cato from the corner of my eye. "We were just talking."
"Talking," scoffed my mother, her tongue as vicious as ever. "You think that there will be time for 'talking' in the Arena? You two should be training, strategizing!"
"We'll have plenty of time to strategize" Cato interjected as he crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowing. I gently placed a hand on his bicep, silently pleading with my eyes for him to drop it.
"This is exactly what we mean" Cato's father said, eying my hand on Cato's arm. "We can't afford for you two to openly display any form of emotional connection. It's dangerous."
"Precisely" my mother continued. "Any emotion will be viewed as weak by the Career pack. You, us, District 2. We are meant to work together with those from Districts 1 and 4. They are the most powerful and the ones that you'll want to team up with unless you want to constantly have to watch your back."
"Any other advice" I said sarcastically as I rolled my eyes at my mother's never-ending rants about strategies for a game she never got to participate in.
"Actually, yes. Learning to exploit emotions, more than anything, are the most danger weapons in the Arena" my father managed to get out before returning to his alcohol-induced stupor.
"What does that mean?" Cato sneered just as I dropped my hand, puzzled.
"It means," Cato's mother began, "that if you two continue this... this friendship," she paused again, knowing that this is the wrong word as she desperately comes up empty-handed, "then others will find a way to use it against you. Partnership can only go so far" she finished, her gaze flickering quickly to me.
But as I hear these words, something else resonates within me.
The line about partnership, that it could only go so far in the Arena.
I suspiciously look up to meet the gaze of both of our parents and am greeted by 4 pairs of eyes all clearly relaying the same underlying message: that sooner or later, Cato and I will have to split up.
After all, twenty-four go in and only one comes out.
A Note From The Author:
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