Chapter 2

My brother and I are walking towards the front of the justice building, hand in hand. There are a lot of people here in District Two. The justice building fills up pretty quickly.

When we are near the front, I see the sign-in station. When you sign-in, the Capitol attendant at the station has a gadget that pricks your finger and gets a simply of your blood. When the sample of blood has been taken, the attendant has another gadget that can identify you, just by your blood.

Caleb sees the sign-in station, too, because he stops randomly in the middle of the walkway, and moves to the side.

"Sh, it's okay, Caleb. We're just going to sign in now. There going to prick your finger and take a little bit of blood."

He starts breathing heavily. "But you didn't say anything about that."

"I know," I comfort him. "It won't hurt much, I promise. We're just going to sign-in and I'll meet you over there, okay?"

Caleb nods.

We're back on the path, and we get separated when we near the sign-in desk, and I get worried. How can someone so fragile, and so young be alone on a day like this? He will be fine. I think. So I let him go off on his own, and no longer pay attention to him.

When it's my turn to sign in, the Capitol attendant is wearing a crisp, white uniform, with black safety gloves.

"Next," she says, and she motions me to give my hand to her.

I walk forward and put out my hand, and stick out my fore finger. Her black, nylon gloves feel hard on my soft, tender hands that have been throwing knives their whole lives.

She puts her gadget forward into my finger, and prick. I feel the blood gushing out of my finger. She puts my bloody finger on a spot in a notebook. She let's go of my hand, gets another gadget, and puts it over the spot in the notebook where my blood lies. The gadget gives a little beep and shows my name and age:

SEVINA, CLOVE

AGE FOURTEEN

The attendant looks at the identification, and nods. "Okay, go."

I leave the desk and head towards the crowd of fourteen-sixteen year old girls. I look over to the twelve year old boys crowd and see Caleb. His cheeks are so red, I can tell that he's really nervous.

I look around to see if there's anyone else I care about in the crowd of boys. There's no one. Then someone catches my eye. I see him, the blonde-haired boy—Cato— who's such a show-off in the Training Center. He's wearing a beige shirt with black pants. Even the loose sleeves on his t-shirt can't hide the fact that he's strong and masculine.

In the training center, not only does he show-off, but he also flirts with other girls. Not that I'm jealous or anything, it just bothers me.

He did flirt with me once. Just once.

It was during summer, when I was just about to turn fourteen. I was in the Training Center late at night. I was practicing throwing knives, when I heard a sound from the other room. I got scared, so I walked slowly to the other room, my knives in hand. I opened the door, and I saw him, there practicing his sword fighting with a dummy. I watched him as he sliced the dummy's head and arms off. When he was done, he was covered in sweat, glowing in the moonlight that gained access from the windows on the top of the Training Center. He didn't see me at first, but I broke the silence.

"Wow, that must've hurt," I say, pointing to the discarded dummy.

He turned around, and looked at me. "Well, not really, it being a dummy and all." he says with a grin.

"Is that all you do? Just stab dummies with a sword and cut off their non-existent heads, legs, and arms off?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Sure, if you put it that way." he shrugs. He starts to walk slowly towards me. "So what do you do? Clove, right?

"Yeah." I hold up a knife in answer, still crossing my arms. "I throw them."

"Is that so?" He asks. When he gets close enough, he puts his hands on my waist. I push him away, but he still has a grip on me. "Well, then, let's see what you've got."

I push him away, nod, and lead him to the other room where I was practicing before.

I set up all the controls, and press the button when I'm ready to start.

One by one, each dummy is shown on a spotlight, and I throw one knife, at each target, in the middle.

I forget about Cato, and concentrate on the dummies and my knives. I can tell Cato's impressed, because I see him smile at the corner of my eye.

When I'm done, I take a deep breath and exhale. I turn around and see Cato's still staring at me with amazement. "Wow. You are something." he gasps.

"That's right. " I say.

Cato thinks for a moment. "How about you and me do a little hand-to-hand combat, huh?"

"Wait, you mean like, wrestling?" I ask.

"That's exactly what I mean."

"Why?" I say. There's no way I can go up against him.

"So we can test your skills." he says. "Unless, you're scared." he says with a grin.

"I am not scared." I testify.

"Oh, are you sure? Because, if you weren't scared, you'd be accepting my challenge."

That's it. My strength has been challenged. By the look on his face, he already knows that he will win. I hate losing. "Fine," I agree.

Both of us move to the middle of the room, where the wrestling mats are.

"Ready, Clove?" he grins.

"You bet." I say.

Cato comes after me and I get pinned to the ground, helpless. When he's on top of me, I try to out balance him, and succeed. We roll around the floor, and try to pin each other at the ground. After what feels like an hour, I'm finally on top of him, I stop, and so does he.

"Were you ready, Cato?" I grin.

"Oh, Clove, you know me too well." He laughs.

Once forceful, sudden movement from him, and I'm pinned to the ground. I try to out balance him once more, but I'm too tired to. I try some more, and do not succeed. Cato sees this, and says, "Had enough, yet?"

I get angry at the comment and force myself to gain all the strength I have to push him over. I lay on top of him, breathless.

Cato lays on the floor, tired. "Okay, you win." he admits.

I get up and tap him twice on the cheek with my hand and walk away, "Of course, I win, Cato, I always do."

I don't see Cato when he does it, but he gets up and grabs me by the waist. I give a shriek. He pins me to the ground hard, and gets on top of me.

"Cato, what are you doing? I already won." I say.

"I just thought we should have a little fun, shouldn't we?"

"What do you mean fun?"

In answer, he holds onto my waist, and kisses my cheek.

"Wait, Cato! Stop don't you dare!—"

He cuts me off with another kiss—on the nose. I see him give me a smirk, and I know where he's going with this. I try to get up, but it's no use. He's just about to kiss me on the lips, when I spit in his face.

He groans in reply, and gets up. I get up too, and watch him writhe in pain, laughing.

He wipes his face and laughs, "You are a feisty one, aren't you?"

I laugh, "You haven't seen the best of me yet, Cato Hadley."

And with that, I left him, standing there.

I try to get the flashback out of my mind, and pay attention to the stage, where the District Two escort, Galea, stands.

"Welcome, welcome!" she says. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Her bright, bubbly tone gives me a headache.

Jus then, the film from the Capitol plays. It plays every year. I ignore it, because I already memorized all the words.

When the film is done, Galea speaks. "Now, the time has come to select one courageous young man and woman—" she pauses, "—for the honor of representing District Two in the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games." she smiles. "As usual, ladies first!"

She puts her hand in the reaping bowl and twirls it gracefully, yet intensely around. She picks one slip of paper from the middle, and holds it up. She walks to the microphone and opens it up.

Please not me. Please not me. Please not me. Please not me.

Galea takes a breath and reads the paper.

"Clove Sevina!"