Author's Note: So... um... yeah. This is chapter two XD So I'm pretty sure I didn't do a disclaimer in the last chapter, but I do not own the Hunger games. I don't know if you noticed or not, but I'm not Susan Collins.
Chapter Two
Cato Pitney.
I can feel my stomach knot together, liquefy and drop into my shoes. My mind goes blank for a moment. Then it sinks in and my mind trips over itself with incoherent thoughts. The first thing I can decipher is one question; Why him? But I can't even ask that, really. He wasn't reaped. He volunteered. That makes the situation even worse. Cato Pitney has just volunteered to kill me, or be killed by me.
I've trained for this day since I was a child. I have a sturdy built crowd face that I use to charm and manipulate the other Careers in the academy. Sometimes I do it because it's necessary. But mostly, it's to see how well I can mold them to my desire. However, now, I can't find that foundation I've spent so long building. All I can manage is to stare out above the crowd with dry eyes and a bright smile plastered on my face. I can't even focus my attention long enough to know who'll be mentoring me. All those years, all that time, building something that was so fragile it crumbled at the sight of this person.
I can't say me and this person are friends, per say. But I know him well enough. It's just that there are so many things that connect me to him. We've trained with each other's parents; we go to the same academy; we both specialize in blades; I'm best friends with his sister. No, we're not friends. But we have this certain understanding with one another.
The crowd continues to cheer as I'm taken into custody with Pitney. I do manage to keep my crowd face up until the Peacekeepers direct me to my meeting room. When the door closes, I flop onto the couch and bury my face into a pillow.
Then why am I getting so worked up over this person? When we see each other, it's almost an instinct for us to spit insults. I don't even remember when we started hating each other, but that's the only relationship we've had. Sure, there were those times when we would actually talk, but…
The door opens and I jolt up, my crowd face on. It's a good thing, too, because my parents sweep into the room. The air around them literally exudes excitement and pride. That's right; I'm supposed to be just as ecstatic. I can't let this minor obstacle of killing Cato ruin the event of my life.
"My baby!" my mother exclaims as she wraps her arms around me. Actually, before she gives me a hug, she takes my face in her hands and examines me, as if analyzing if my looks are suitable for the Capitol televisions.
My mother is known around the academy as a beauty. As dangerous as she is beautiful, my father would say with smugness. My father likes to make it seem as though he doesn't try to be handsome, but really spends as much time in front of a mirror as much as my mother does. Here in District 2, nothing less than perfection is ever accepted.
My father pries her away from me and sits down on the chair opposite of me. He's grinning broadly, but is working into a business-like expression. "Now, we don't have much time for that," he says, looking me in the eye. "We gotta talk strategy, baby."
Mother sits up and fixes her dress and takes a breath to calm her down. "You're right, Fen." She turns to me and suddenly these people aren't my parents anymore, but Career Trainers. "Just because you're going to the Capitol doesn't mean you can neglect your training, Clove."
"That's right. And keep an eye on that Pitney boy too."
The crowd face cracks ever so faintly at the mention of him.
"Oh, yes," my mother agrees. "No matter what, never keep your back to him. You're going to be allies with him, because he's a Career as well, but be sure he never gets a chance to take you out."
Take me out? I narrow my eyes. "I can take him," I say fiercely, offended that my own parents doubt my capabilities against a big, empty-headed guy like Cato Pitney.
"Baby," my dad says with no endearment behind the word, "I've personally trained the boy. I know for a fact that he'll be your greatest alley and your most formidable enemy."
The Career Trainers continue to give me tips and advice for another minute before they're escorted out by the Peacekeepers. No goodbye, no kiss on the cheek, no good luck. I know all of their affection will be given to me after I come back as a victor and I have to make them proud. The next time I see them, I will be a victor. Not Pitney. This is my year. Not his.
I close my eyes and allow my mind to immerse itself in the Games, what different arenas have been used before and what tactics I would use. The door quietly opens and I smell sweat, dust and uncleanliness. My nose wrinkles and I open my eyes.
A scrawny boy, maybe twelve, looks down at his tatters shoes, his face red as his hair with embarrassment. His clothes are stained and dirty from God-knows-what. Normally, someone of my class wouldn't even acknowledge this boy's existence. But I, unfortunately, know him.
"Riley," I say with a gentleness that surprises even myself. His face reddens more and he tucks his chin into his chest. "What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be home with Kiya?"
He nods but says nothing. I realize he's fiddling with something in his hands.
"Riley?"
Slowly, as if building courage, Riley looks up at me. But only long enough to hand me the object in his hands and quickly looks back down at his shoes. I raise an eyebrow and look and what he shoved into my hand.
It was a silver bracelet. Given, the silver was tarnished, but it looked like it was a treasured thing. It had many, tiny thin rectangular links. There was also a diamond embedded in the bracelet the size of my thumb nail. It was a thick bracelet, so the diamond must have been either thick too, or there were two separate diamonds; one on each side. This one bracelet could feed Riley and little six-year-old Kiya for months.
"M-Miss Clove," he says, just barely above a whisper. I look up from the bracelet. He's playing with loose threads from his shirt. "P-please… w-wear that f-f-for the-the Hunger Ga-games…"
A token. I had completely forgotten about getting one. But this bracelet must be important to Riley if he hasn't sold it yet. Then it clicks. "Riley… was this your mother's bracelet?"
He continues to look down at his shoes and wipes his nose on his sleeve.
I remember taking out my first tesserae exchange close to four years ago. My parents were Career Trainers then as well, so I was well off even then. So why would I want to keep oil and low quality grain home with me? Plus, if the kids in my neighborhood saw me with that, they would start taking tesserae out too, and then my whole plan would be ruined. So I decided I was going to just dump it somewhere and go home. I didn't know where I was going, though, so before I knew it, I was in the grimy parts of District 2. I understood then why there were people who actually needed to take out tessera. Some of the houses I passed were no bigger than my living room.
But there was this one house that really stuck me; it was a miracle it was still standing. Parts of the roof had actually already broken in; the windows boarded up with wood to keep out wind; vines grew and died on the walls. If it weren't for the sound of a baby crying inside, I would've thought it was abandoned. I went to it and opened the door – actually, I just moved it, since it wasn't on any hinges. The inside was just as pitiful as the exterior. What was even more pitiful was the sight of a little malnourished looking eight-year-old boy trying to sooth a two-year-old with a bit of moldy bread.
From then on, I took my tesserae bag to that house every month. I would even be so gracious as to put in some apples, or some blankets. The boy never spoke to me for the first year. But I brought his sister a little toy doll I used to play with, he finally told me their names. Slowly, bit by bit, I learned their story. Their mother died a few months before that first day I met them, from an infected cut that they couldn't afford to tend. Riley had to watch his mother die while making sure him and his sister didn't follow after her.
I look down at the tarnished bracelet and know in that instant that I can never accept it. But this, to Riley, is like repaying me. If I were to reject it, he may never be able to repay me. So I smile and put my hand on his dirty shoulder.
"I'll wear it, Riley," I say. "But I promise, when I get back, the first I'll do is give this back, okay? Plus, I'll pay you for letting me borrow it."
Riley looks at my hand, up at me, then quickly back at the ground. He nods. "T-then m-make sure… m-make sure you win…" And, with impeccable timing, the Peacekeepers come in and Riley shuffles out of the room.
This is another reason why I have to win this year. If I don't take food for Riley and Kiya, who will? Sure, Riley's old enough to take out his own tesserae, but I've been giving them oil and grain for five people and it still doesn't seem to be enough.
My resolve nearly entirely crumbles as my next visitor steps into the room. Lune. She can't be here to cheer me on, because I'm against her brother. But she can't be here to show me her distain, either. Lune knows that not showing her face to me would be more than enough. And here she is.
Quietly, she enters the room and sits next to me. There's space between us, and from that space I know that I won't be the first to speak. But as the moments pass and time with her ticks away, I can't contain myself any longer.
"What am I going to do, Lune?" I burst. My crowd face falls away from me and I look at her. She's not looking at me, but straight ahead, as if in contemplation. I hate it when she does this, because Lune can get lost in her own mind to the point where if I were to stab her right now, she wouldn't notice. "Lune!" I shout, angry now.
When she doesn't answer me, I get up off the couch. "Why're you here then? Huh? If you're not going to talk to me, why're you here? To make me lose confidence in myself because your brother is facing against me?" my voice rises and I start to shake. "Well, you know what? I can kill him! I'd be happy to kill that bastard! I'll enjoy cutting him to pieces for the entertainment of all of Panem! What do you say to that, huh, Lune? Are you happy now? You can just GO!"
"Clove," she says, looking up at me. The anger rushes out of me. Lune never uses my name. "Winning is everything?"
She says this like it's some sort of question. I'm still spinning from my rage that I don't answer.
"Winning is everything, right?" Lune repeats. Her expression is the same as when I spotted her in the crowd not ten minutes ago.
Slowly, I nod.
"Well, what if it isn't?"
What if winning isn't everything? What is she talking about? That one phrase is what we've been living on our entire lives.
"I… I don't understand." I give her a look to explain but she just sighs in frustration and shakes her head.
"Nevermind then," Lune closes her eyes and rubs her temples the way she does when she's given up on something. But what is she giving up on? "Are you sure you can kill him?"
"…I'm capable of it." I don't like such direct questions.
Footsteps can be heard from the hall and her eyes snap open. She speaks in a hurry now. "But you can't."
My eyes narrow. "I could if I wanted to."
"But you don't want to."
"Where are you going with this?"
The door opens and a pair of Peacekeepers enters.
Lune stands up and takes my hands. She's still talking quickly. "Look, I want you home just as much as I want Cato home." The Peacekeepers are politely asking her to leave and she makes a sound of annoyance. "Just be sure you're not the one who kills him, okay?"
The Peacekeepers now have their hands on Lune and have to physically direct her out the door. She turns her head back in my direction and yells "Victory is not winning, Clove! Not for you or him!"
The door shuts and it's like Lune's voice echoes through the room. But really, it's only echoing in my head.
Victory is not winning. Not for you or him.
Author's note: So there it is, chapter two for you all. If you wanna give me your opinions on the story so far, feel free. It makes me happy when I get reviews XD Anyway, thanks!