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Chapter Eight.
I stand looking in the tall, floor length mirror. Shaking my head. It's a good thing this makes me look pretty hot, if not, I'd have to kill my stylist.
I'm dressed in gold armor, that barely covers my breasts, revels my open stomach and has a skirt, that is extremely too short. Then a silky golden cape, that attaches to the straps of my armor...sports bra thing (I guess you could call it that), and trails to the floor, dancing and shimmering in the lights. My dark makeup makes me look dark and mysterious. I mean it could look good, if all of Panem wasn't seeing me half naked. It's a good thing I've worked hard for this body. If not, as I said, they'd be getting a new stylist.
At least Cato is even more revealing, he needs to feel my pain. I walk down the row of chariots and my eyes find him instantly. Like wow, I've got a good looking boyfriend. He's in that mocho armor that leaves open the top half of his body and provides an armor skirt (though Cato would kill me if I called it a skirt), he's holding a golden spear and there's one there for me too. I don't know whether they've made his muscles that toned, or if they're just like that, but hey, he can just leave it like that. His eyes seem to glow blue in the dim light and I know my eyes must glow too. They made us wear contacts, that are really irritating my eyes right now. Ugg. As I look around I see we must be the best dressed here, we should blow them away. If a District outshines us, they'd better watch their backs.
I make it to our golden chariot, walking carefully in my tall, heeled boots. Our black horses are pawing in anticipation. If I was a horse, I would be too. Cato looks me up and down, with those gorgeous blue eyes.
"You forgot to get dressed," he comments. I know he likes it though, I can tell by his raised eyebrows and how his eyes never leave me. Or my boobs, either one really.
"Oh shut up," I laugh, "you're even worse."
"You're just lucky you get to see this," he's being cocky again.
"You're lucky they wouldn't let me take my knives with me." He just winks. He's the only person I know, who doesn't cower when I say that to them.
"Well," he continues, "wanna go make ourselves an alliance, establish ourselves as pack leaders?"
"We'd better, before we need to establish it by force." Not that I'd really mind that, I like winning. I like being better than people. It's just in my nature. We head over to District 1's chariot, they're both dressed in huge puffy pink outfits, I feel really bad for them. I'm glad I didn't get their stylist. They hop onto the ground as we approach, the blond is looking Cato up and down. Then she flirtatiously swipes the hair off her shoulder and sticks out her boobs. I mean, that wouldn't work on him.
Who am I kidding? That's the first thing he looks at when he walks up to her. I stomp on his foot, hard and he moves away from me, while shooting me a glare, which I return. It must have hurt, given my high heels.
"Alliance?" Cato growls, he's obviously mad I stepped on him. The others look taken aback and quickly agree.
"I'm Marvel and this is Glimmer," I watch Marvel, was her related to my father? Do they look alike. Marvel has freckles like me, maybe my father had freckles. Cato tells them our names impatiently, before pulling me away to talk to District 4, however when we pass our chariot our stylists call for us. And we're forced to stalk over to them. At least we got to talk to District 1.
"My foot hurts," Cato complains.
"Good," I say, adding in a wink for good measure.
He gives me a look that makes me grin. I love pushing his buttons. We always seem to work each other up. We used to fight a lot in District 2, we would pick fights with each other. Some would be verbel, a lot were physical. We said we hated each other, we said the meanest things to each other. Yet we never left each other, that's what tells us we truly belong together. Now we're nice to each other, because we don't want to ruin our last moments with each other. Because there is only 1 victor and 2 of us. At least one of us will die. That fact looms over our heads and the day one us takes our last breath. A day fast approaching.
"Did I mention how hot you look?" he whispers, as we stand side by side in the chariot. Our golden spears in hand. I smile. He always knows how to make me feel better.
"Nope."
He gives me a sideways grin, "well...you do."
"You don't look half bad yourself." He continues to smile, he looks good happy. I mean, he looks good all the time really. But it's nice to see him smile, an image I try and lock into my brain, something to hold onto when things in the games get tough. I'm sure they will. When we're fighting to get each other out and in the end when we finally have to separate. His smile will be there with me. Until the end.
The famous, opening music begins. Then massive doors slide open, revealing the cheering crowd. Soon District 1's chariot is rolling out into the cheering crowd. Our stylists are telling us to be strong and intimidating and serious. Then our horses our moving and we're surrounded by the deafening roar of the crowd. We move down a long ally to the presidents balcony, on either side of us, thousands of Capitol citizens call our names and throw us flowers. They love us, even more than District 1. I need to concentrate on glaring ahead, to keep myself from smiling. It's an awesome moment.
"CATO, CLOVE, CATO, CLOVE." It feels nice to be cheered on like that. So nice. The music pounds in my ears, along with the roaring of the crowd.
We're the best until near the end, when I look over at Cato I see him glaring over his shoulder, the skin over his knuckles turning white, holding the spear. His face flushed with anger. I look behind me to see what the problem is. District 12, the last to arrive. Has completely outshone us all. They are on fire, literally on fire. And the crowd goes wild. They call their names, throw them flowers. Wave. Completely forgetting about us, all of us. The girls blows kisses and they hold hands. Jealousy, anger, resentment, they all flow through me. Jealousy, that I can't hold Cato's hand. Angry, that they did better than us. And resentment, because they have just caught the Capitals attention and maybe sponsors. Sponsors that we need. That could save Cato's like.
I glare at them, I hate them. They will pay for this, they will pay for beating us. My hand clenches around my spear and I imagine shoving it through their bodies.
"They're dead day one and I plan to make it slow," I snarl to Cato.
His lip curls, "as long as you save one for me." Some people would want to know where this hatred of ours comes from, why we would hate them from this moment on. I couldn't tell them. But I can tell them the hatred is there, taking a deep place in my heart. Always burning. Burning like the fire, spewing from their backs. Maybe I'll burn their bodies once I'm done with them, that would be ironic.
I glare ahead easily as we reach the presidents balcony in the City Circle, I don't need to pretend to be furious. The ride was about 20 minutes long, 20 minutes of seething anger. It comes easily to me. Famous President Snow steps up to the podium. He holds up one hand and the whole hall goes silent. The musics ends. I could hear a pin drop. I wonder what it feels like to have that much power. I wish I could feel that one day.
"Welcome tributes, we welcome you," he begins, his voice booming around the hall, "we salute your courage and your sacrifice.
" And we wish you happy Hunger Games,
"and may the odds, be ever, in your favour." Then the national anthem begins to play.
On the screen I can see them showing all the chariots, but District 12 is getting all the attention. All the airtime. At least their low scores will rule out the sponsors. The sponsors that are rightfully ours.
Cheers erupt again, and we leave the hall with them ringing in our ears. Sure, they salute our bravery, but many of us have no choice. They wish us a happy Hunger Games, but it will be happy for none of us. How vain they are, how cruel. This whole thing is cruel, I knew it all along. I always enjoyed it, laughed at it. Until now, now that the joke is on us.
We enter the Training Center and our prep teams surround us. We step out of the chariot and glare at District 12. As their mentor and stylists congratulate them. I hope they understand they will pay for outshining me, I will make them pay. I will make sure everyone remembers when I put out the girl on fire's flames. They look over and see us glaring at them and I glare daggers into her sharp grey eyes. Let them know we are coming for them. Sadly their mentor spots us too and leads them away.
There is a tower in the Training Center, each District gets their own floor. Labelled 1-12, we should all remember which floor we're on. The tower will be the tribute's homes before the games begin. At least we get a luxurious room, it's the least we deserve.
We sit through dinner and watch the recap of the parade. I shove delicious food down my throat and ignore the way the crowd cheers for District 12. I try so hard to contain myself, I hold in my anger. Ready to unleash it on District 12, when the time is right. I ignore our congratulations, because we all know we weren't the best. A feeling we hate. A feeling we don't have to feel often. A feeling that causes us to do...awful things. I can't wait to show Panem all the awful things we can do. I also can't wait to show all the tributes. But that will have to wait until tomorrow. For some people, training is a chance to learn, for us, it's a chance to intimidate.
I take out my ridiculous contacts and scrub off all the makeup in the shower. I feel better once I'm the normal Clove that I'm used to. I place my hands on the edge of the sink and breath deeply. I can wait until the games, I can hold it in until the games. I look up into the mirror, seeing the reflection of the deep yellow bath lights. I see my eyes, lightened with anger, then I see my freckles and my dark brown hair. The same hair colour as Marvel. I need to ask him about my father. He must know something. They must be related somehow, I mean...they have the same last name and all.
Eventually I climb into my plush bed and sink under the covers. The room is spectacular, even more beautiful than the train. And there is a window on the wall, that shows me anything I want to see. Right now I see the stars and the constellations Cato taught me. He said before his mother died, she taught him about stars. I could tell then that he really missed her, my heart aches in sorrow for him. That he lost something so wonderful. I wonder what my life would have been like, if my relationship with my mother had been different. I used to lie awake at night and wonder why she did those things to me. Why she hurt me. Then I realized that I couldn't change anything and I need to move on. So I did. Or at least I thought I did.
I stay awake in the dark for a while until I hear someone slip into my room. He pulls back the covers and sinks down beside me, into the bed. He pulls me close to him and kisses the top of my head. In that moment my anger and my sadness vanishes. Only my love is left. Such a sappy thing, but I can't deny how I feel.
I love him. I love Cato Skinner. I've never loved in my life, the way I love him. I fall asleep in his arms and he makes me sleep soundly. Because I know he is here to protect me and he makes me feel safe. He is the only reason I could ever be safe here.
A/N: Katniss and Peeta better watch their backs!
Specially when Cato and Clove hate them that much, I'd be scared if I were them!
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