CHAPTER TWO

Clove had just finished getting ready for the Reaping and it was almost time to go to the town square. Everyone in District 2 was required to be there, no matter what their age or financial status. The only way you got a ticket out of showing up was if you were on your deathbed. But even if Clove were dying, she'd still want to be a part of the reaping.

Clove was so excited. She spent the last couple of hours getting ready so she would look good in front of the cameras when she volunteered to be a tribute. Her mom was worried about her, of course.

"If you don't want to volunteer, honey, that's okay." Her mom said to her this morning while wrapping her arms around her. Clove was not a hugger and almost immediately pulled away from her.

"Mom, I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me." Clove rolled her eyes and turned around to finish putting on mascara. Her mom shortly left with a sniffle and Clove was afraid to turn back to face her, with the fear of seeing her mother cry. She knew that her mom cared for her deeply and felt guilty at the harsh words she spoke to her.

Oh well. She'll get over it when she see's me crowned as the victor in the arena. Clove smiled and thought about how to have her hairstylist do her hair.

A knock on her door startled Clove out of her thoughts.

"It's time to get in the car, Clove." Her father called out to her in his ever serious tone.

"Alright, dad!" She yelled back and started for her door. As his footsteps retreated, Clove thought about her relationship with her father. He was almost always gruff and disinterested in daily things that happened with her and her family. The only time Clove ever saw her father was in the morning, during breakfast. He was always working at God knows where, doing who knows what, and Clove was always out, hanging with her friends or her boyfriend. She had endless money from her father's career. It's weird- I don't even know what he does and yet, I'm always spending the money he earns from doing it.

Clove shook the thoughts about her father away and focused on her. That was what was most important right now. She had to get psyched up for the Reaping- and the Games. Clove walked outside and got into one of her family's luxurious cars. It had room for seven people, however only her main family was currently in it. Her father was driving, her mother was in the seat next to him, the middle row was empty, and in the back row sat Clove and her sister, Cady. Cady just turned 12 last week and she could not be more annoying about it. She brought it up yet again on the drive up to the town square.

"So as you all know, I'm 12 years old now, practically a teenager," Clove rolled her eyes for the second time that day while her overly peppy, obnoxious sister continued, "and that means that I could totally volunteer to be a tribute. Maybe I'll even get picked!" Cady's never talked about entering the Games before, and that made Clove really ticked off.

"Oh my God, Cady! You know that I'm going to be the female tribute this year. Who knows, maybe you'll get picked as the male." Clove gave Cady a smirk while she was searching for the words to a comeback. Before she could come up with one, their father bellowed out.

"Cady, your sister is three years older than you, which makes her your senior. You're enthusiasm is great, but she is going to be a tribute this year... maybe you can try next year." Their father always favored Clove, it was obvious. Which was just fine with her since she always got extra money in her allowance every week. Besides, it was also obvious that her mother favored Cady more. But they could have their mother-daughter shopping trips and heart-to-heart conversations. All Clove cared about was holding money, counting money, spending money, hanging out with her friends, making out with her boyfriend, and thinking about winning the Hunger Games.

"Yeah, Cady. So shut up. You would die in the first five minutes, at most, anyway." Clove flashed Cady an evil smile while Cady just stuck out her tongue at Clove and turned her head away, looking out her window. Clove knew she had probably made her sister cry but didn't care. Ugh, what a crybaby. She then stared at her sister for two seconds, to see if she could antagonize her a bit more, but when Cady raised her sleeve to her eyes, Clove turned away herself and looked out her own window. Cady was so sensitive about everything and Clove knew that, sometimes working it to her own advantage. She doesn't have what it takes to be in the Games, anyway. I'm just pulling her head out of her ass before it's too late. The rest of the car ride was silent except for Clove's mother's humming of some old song from her generation.

After driving for about 15 minutes, the Fuhrman family shuffled out of the car and filed into the town square. Her parents went to go stand with the other parents while her and Cady got all signed in, which included having their fingers be pricked. Clove went first and barely felt anything. Cady was after Clove and almost passed out from the sight of her own blood. This caused Clove to scoff while she was directed to stand with the other 15 year olds from her district. To pass the time, Clove looked at the stage in the front of the square. It was ginormous, high off the ground, and had a red curtain covering the back. Over the curtain was a giant screen. There were speakers surrounding the stage and a microphone in the front middle of it. To the left of the microphone was the glass ball of potential male tribute names and to the right was the female one.

After around 30 minutes, the sound of feedback rushed through the square, causing the majority of the people there to groan and hold their hands over their ears. Then everyone heard one finger tap on the microphone and immediately quieted down. This is because the tribute overseer for District 2 was a very strict, old woman. Candola Kitsch took the microphone from the stand and paced the stage with it. She was from the capitol and Cady had always been fascinated with the capitol and everything that had to do with it. Clove, however, thought people from the capitol looked ridiculous and could not understand why you would want to get dressed up in all the get-up they wear everyday.

"Happy Hunger Games everyone. And may the odds be ever in your favor." Candola rang out over the crowd. She always sounded bored when she spoke the phrase, in her odd capitol accent. Candola had extremely pale skin, but with a hint of blue with it. It looked like she had it dyed blue months ago and it was wearing off. She was wearing a short, bright blue wig and had a weird, yellow hat on. She was also wearing a yellow pantsuit with blue high heels on. She had in yellow fake eyelashes and yellow lipstick on. Clove nearly laughed every time she looked at her. Candola always focused on two colors and wore them to death. She has to know how completely stupid she looks!

"I will now hand the microphone over to President Snow so he can enlighten us on this year's Hunger Games." Candola gave the microphone to the old man and whispered something to him. President Snow laughed back at her and Candola smiled as she sat down. The only time she ever smiled seemed to be when she was talking to President Snow. Clove got disturbing mental images in her head and made a gagging sound. While the president droned on and on, Clove felt a hand firmly grab her shoulder and another one covered her mouth, rendering her unable to breathe.

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