AN: Hey guys! Thank you so much for the reviews! I hit ten reviews a few days ago, but I was visiting colleges, so I was a little busy. But here is chapter 7! I really hope you guys like it. It's a little rough for me, but I really wanted to update. Hope you enjoy! As always, review- especially if you favorite or alert! I'll be waiting for another ten reviews before I put up the next chapter!

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Chapter 7

Atlanta Goodridge, my mother, is victor of the 53rd Hunger Games, and she never lets me forget it. My entire life, I've always been told stories about how my beautiful, strong, smart mother refused the Career alliance and singlehandedly took out half of the tributes in the arena. With her bloody mace, my mother impressively ended her games in just under a week.

I look out the window, and see the entire town waiting for me. No, not waiting for me. Waiting for Clove Feldspar, the newest Career victor. I remind myself to put on my patented mischievous grin. At the forefront, I spy my mother with Tara. The rest of the crowd is pressed up and jostling one another, but no one dares encroach on her space.

I'm not the only one intimidated by my mother.

As I exit the train, my half-sister and my mother both slowly walk up to welcome me home.

Mother gifts me one of her rare smiles. "Good job in the arena, Clove."

I'm happy, I really am, but is that all she has to say to me? Apparently it is, because she just pats me on the back and waits for me to answer. My mother and I haven't always had the best relationship, but I had hoped for at least a little emotion. Behind us, I spot Cato being congratulated by his family and his admirers. We share a look, but things are still tense between us. His eye's a little swollen from our fight, and I almost feel bad. But not bad enough to apologize just yet, so I turn back to my own dysfunctional family.

"Thanks, Mom." I try to give her a heartfelt smile. "I'm glad to be back." She seems disappointed too with our guarded conversation, but you can't just change the way some things were.

I glance at Cato again. Some things change without you even realizing it, and others will always stay the same, no matter how hard you try. Life's like that, I guess.

"Good job, Clove," Tara congratulates me, but her voice is choked up with something. Jealousy? My sister and I have always tried to one-up one another. She's got nothing to worry about though, Mother always favored her. Just as I open my mouth to reply, I feel a light tap on my arm.

I turn around to a small, frail girl. "Hi Cassie," I almost smile. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Cato's baby sister. Girls like her usually annoy me to no end; delicate and seemingly helpless, they give being small a bad reputation. But Cassie's nowhere near helpless. In fact, I suspect she's more capable then me and Cato put together.

Funny story- Cassie's actually the reason Cato and I became partners.

.

"Cassie, you don't really like training, do you?" I ask the tiny eight-year old in front of me.

She looks up fiercely at me, "Is it because I'm small? Because that doesn't mean I'm not capable."

I roll my eyes, "I was smaller than you when I was your age. Size doesn't have anything to do with what you can do. And you're adequate… But you don't like training do you?" I repeat my question impatiently.

She looks up at me with crystal blue eyes, trying to figure out if she could trust me. "No." she admits, "but my brother's in training, so I figure I should be too."

I squat down next to her and grip her shoulder tightly. She has to understand. "Cassie, listen. If you don't want to train, and no one's making you, don't... Training changes you, and you can't stop that. Get out while you can. There'll be plenty of girls that can volunteer if you get reaped. Don't waste your time here if you don't need to."

She keeps a steady gaze on me. "And what about you? Do you want to train?"

I give her a bittersweet smile. "It's not about whether I want to. Training is in my blood. It's who I am… it's like breathing to me. I was born to be a Career ."

I didn't really answer her question then, and I still can't. I still don't know whether I would have chosen this life.

The next day, a brawny boy strides up to my angrily during Training. Cato. I've fought him a couple of times, known of him since I entered the Academy, and he's good. But I'm better.

-Well that's not true either. We're pretty evenly matched. But why is he coming over here?

"Clove, right?" he grits out angrily. He towers over me, trying to intimidate me.

I stick my chin out just a little bit. "Yes." I say evenly. Behind my back, I pull out a knife.

"Are you the one that told my sister to quit training?"

So that's Cassie's brother. I look up at his face and am met with the same crystal blue eyes. On Cassie, they're pretty, but on Cato, they're more intense, dangerous.

I get my knife ready. "What if I am?"

"Why the fuck would you do that? Are you a stupid bitch or something?"

I exhale sharply through my nose. No one talks to me like that- obviously this boy is too dense to recognize this. "Listen, you son of a bitch. I'm not stupid, and you know very well that I could kill you in the blink of an eye. I simply told your sister that if she didn't want to be here, then she shouldn't feel like she has to." As I talk, I casually pull out my knife from my back and start twirling it through my fingers. Just so he knows who he's messing with.

He follows the knife with his eyes. "Just stay out of her business, alright little girl?"

I roll my eyes. Everyone always mentions my height like it's a weakness. "And you need to stay out of her business too, asshole. It's her own choice."

"I'm her broth-"

"-I realize that, idiot. You still need to back the hell off. If she doesn't want to train, she shouldn't have to train."

He stops short. No one has ever interrupted him before probably. I know his type. Muscular golden boys like him are a dime a dozen in District Two. They all think they're the shit, that the world revolves around them. But this one's a little different, because he doesn't retort. He just gives me appraising look before stalking away.

To my surprise, the next day, he requests me as his training partner.

And even more surprisingly, I accept. I really was batshit crazy back then.

.

Cassie looks sneakily up at me. "I knew you'd come back alive one way or another."

I sigh, "It was a lot harder than I expected."

"I know, I was worried for a little bit. But you and Cato always work best together. I knew you two could do it."

I shake my head. "There's no way you could have known that."

She sticks out her lip stubbornly, pouting. "But I did." No matter how mature she acts, Cassie is still just a stubborn eleven-year old. But she perks up, eyes flashing with mischief. "So are you and Cato going to get married now?"

My eyes bulge out, and I choke a little. "No...I…er- it's complicated." I finish stumbling over my words and become aware of Cato watching the two of us. I try to ignore him the best I can.

"Are you two fighting now? He has a bruise on his face, and I don't know anyone else who could have laid a hand on Cato."

No matter how uncomfortable this conversation is, I have to laugh at that. "That's a little complicated too. Don't listen to what he has to say though, alright?"

She lifts up her chin, which I'm pretty sure she got from me. "Of course, I'm smarter than that. But you should know, he probably already feels bad about your fight."

I sigh, but don't want to go into the sordid details with an eleven year old. "Maybe… I don't see him apologizing any time soon though."

She just shakes her head knowingly, "You'll be back soon. You always are."

.

Two weeks after I've gotten back from the Capitol, and I still haven't gotten more than an hour of sleep at a time. Every time I close my eyes, I see their dead eyes, blood dripping, screams. It's not enough to scare me, but it keeps me up. I spend my nights tossing and turning in my bed, trying to clear my head. But when I'm not thinking about the Games, I'm thinking about Cato. How we're not talking, how when we weren't training before the Games, we'd sometimes sit on that gorge at the edge of town and throw pebbles off the ledge and talk.

I get up at the crack of dawn, figuring I can go for a run before the rest of town gets up. But as I get a cup of water from the kitchen, my mother appears in the doorway. "Going somewhere?"

I'm a little startled, but compose myself quickly enough not to show it. When I was little, demonstrating weakness would warrant a verbal beating. Never mind her mace, Mother's strongest weapon was always her razor sharp tongue. Things have gotten a little better since I won the Games, but I'm still wary around her.

"Just for a jog," I answer evenly.

"The Games are over now, Clove. It's time to get new hobbies other than training." Somehow this innocent piece of advice sounds like a reproach coming from her mouth. "Speaking of which, it's time you decide on what your talent will be."

I stifle a sigh. I've spent a good deal of time wondering what my talent for the Capitol could possibly be. Knife throwing is out, because the Capitol prefers less violent hobbies. Anything girly is probably a bad idea too- I'm lithe and coordinated, but not graceful enough to dance. I'm a terrible singer, and I can't draw for my life. "I'm trying my best." I try to tell her.

But she won't have it. "Well, try harder. It's not like you're busy with anything else. What could possibly be taking you so long?"

I briefly consider telling her about my sleep problems, but think better of it. She'll just use it as ammunition later.

She studies my face a little more closely now, clever eyes appraising the bags under my eyes. "You're looking a little sickly. Have you been getting enough sleep recently?"

I break away from her gaze and look out the window instead. "No." I admit reluctantly.

"They have pills for tha-"

I cut her off firmly. "I'm not taking any of that shit they give me." In my weakest moments, I've considered taking the little blue pills the Capitol gives me for insomnia. But I'm done relying on them.

Mother almost gives me an approving look before rattling on. "Well the choice is yours. Make sure that you look good for your party next week though. "

This time, I don't quite succeed in hiding my feelings. Next week, I'll be turning seventeen. And the Capitol, always eager for a reason to celebrate, is hosting me a party in the Justice Hall. It'll be luxurious and filled with Capitolites and former victors. There's really nowhere I'd rather not be.

"Oh grow up." she snaps. "If you can handle the Games as well as you did, you can handle a Capitol party."

I look up. That was almost a compliment.

She doesn't realize that though, and just keeps talking. "It won't be that bad. You haven't seen Cato in a while, and he's been invited." My mother still hasn't picked up the fact that I'm avoiding him for the time being.

It'll be the first time I see Cato since we got back. The thought makes me excited, but nervous at the same time. Will things go back to normal? Will he still be angry with me? Even worse, will he even come?

He'll come, I tell myself. He has to come.

.

The day before my party, Merino stands on my doorstep, looking as out of place as ever. Wispy and dreamy, she blows in like some sort of tumbleweed. I close the door behind her, She's here to attend my party, and she's brought me another dress to wear for the photo-ops. I eye her warily. My prep team came by earlier today and waxed and made me over until they were satisfied. Needless to say, it was quite traumatizing.

Merino smiles peacefully as she whips out her new creation. She hands it to me, and I turn it over in my hands.

It's another soft chiffon number. Tighter than my crowning dress, but still designed to make me look angelic. It's beautiful, and a little more mature than usual, but I still groan, "No more white dresses, Merino." God, it even has lace on it. I try to hand it back to her.

She pushes the dress back into my hands with unexpected strength. "Don't you see? They'll keep you safe!" she insists.

I snort. "I really doubt wearing dresses that make me like a cherub will really help the situation, Merino."

She looks a little hurt at first, but she shakes her head. "You'll see in time. They help more than you know."

She's as mysterious as I remember. I start to ask her what she means, but she remembers something else. "Oh! I also brought you a little present!" She whips out a wrapped present, and urges me to take it.

I stumble over my words. "Oh Merino… you shouldn't have." She really shouldn't have. I hate presents because then people expect me to be in their eternal favor, or something like that. And I usually hate things other people pick out for me.

She looks at me with those wide eyes, so I shrug and open it anyways. It's an expensive looking camera, and I blink at it. Maybe Merino really is crazy.

"Er.. I don't really take pictures, but thanks so much?" My gratitude sounds unsure, because I'm trying out this new thing where I'm not a complete bitch. It's a hard habit to break.

"It can be your talent!" Her eyes shine excitedly.

"Um.. I really appreciate the thought, but I don't know the first thing about taking pictures." I struggle to find a polite way to tell Merino that it's a shit gift.

She rushes to explain herself. "But you don't have to! The Capitol won't know the difference. Just take some pictures of your life, give them vague titles, and voila! They'll sell like hotcakes, and it couldn't be easier."

I stare at her. Merino really is full of surprises. Every time I question her sanity, she goes and does something completely brilliant. "It's perfect, Merino. Thank you." This time, I sound a little more genuine.

Her eyes glint, "Who knows, it might come in handy later."

I give her another look, ready to ask what she means, but just shrug it off. Maybe it's better if I stop asking questions with Merino.

"Now put on that dress," she instructs as she sinks back into her normal dreamy state.

.

The dress Merino designed me was a lot more than I bargained for, but I manage to stumble towards the drinks table with a semblance of grace. As I pour myself some punch, I hear an all too-familiar voice in my ear.

"Nice dress, Princess." Cato's breath tickles the shell of my ear, and I fight back a shiver. I knew he'd show. I turn to face him with my most compromising smile. But I suddenly stop. Because behind him, clutching his arm, is another girl.

I look down at my cup of punch, wonder what would happen if I poured it right over Cato's head, if it would look like blood running down his face. I close my eyes, then look up with a winning smile pasted on my face.

"Thanks so much. Now excuse me, but I just have to go talk to the Mayor." I could have yelled at him if I wanted to, but Cato hates being ignored. Sure enough, I sneak a peek as I walk away, and he's glaring at my retreating back- also checking out my ass. Typical.

As I talk to the stuffy old mayor, I stew over the fact Cato brought a date to my birthday party. Asshole. But isn't this what I wanted? Things are finally going back to normal. He's going back to systematically working his way through the female population of District Two, and I'm back to being the misanthropic bitch I was before. It all worked out, and I should be happy- but I can't help remembering throwing those damn pebbles with him.

The rest of the night passes as slowly as one might expect. As I open my many presents, I snort at the number of dresses and shoes I get. It's like these people don't know me at all. I look at the circle of unfamiliar faces around me. That's right, I remember. They don't.

Letta pops out of nowhere, a little tipsy. "Oh Clove, what a lovely party!" She sways a little, and I have to chuckle at Letta and her antics. She's been networking and bragging of her success as our escort all night.

"You should know- you're the one who planned it." I reply as patiently as I can.

"That's right- I did, didn't I? Well I did a wonderful job. And you look wonderful too! The prep team did such a good job with you!" She turns to share her enthusiasm with the rest of the group. "Doesn't Clove just look absolutely stunning tonight? It's like she was never in the arena at all!" Everyone turns to gaze at me, and all mumble compliments agreeably before they turn back to their respective conversations.

Only Cato really looks at me, before saying pretty loudly, "I dunno Letta, I thought she looked better before, scars and all." Some people overhear and sniff their disapproval at his rudeness, and his little girlfriend slaps his arm.

"That wasn't very nice Cato!" she gushes flirtatiously.

He doesn't pay her any attention though. Cato and I just keep sharing this heated look. They don't get what he was trying to say, but I do. They don't understand that those scars were important to me, and that keeping them was a tribute to what I am, and what I've done. That they've taken all they can from me.

But he does. God, I really miss him, I realize. "Thank you," I mouth, and he just shakes his head. Maybe I don't really want things to go back to normal after all.

-as if my life isn't confusing enough as it is. I promise myself to talk to Cato sooner rather than later. What if it's too late to fix things? I push away those thoughts with another gulp of punch. I'll just think about that tomorrow.

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