Modified this chapter a bit. Hopefully it's better than the last? Lol...anyways, thank you all for the reviews. I'll try to update tonight. :)
Cato:
"Ugh…they can't be serious. Did you see that stupid smile on District 12's freakin' faces? And the girl catching those roses? Why can't we have their stylist?" Clove wails, pacing back and forth.
I roll my eyes. She's been ranting for an hour now. Probably just jealous that the girl from 12 had a more extravagant costume. I'm lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, which also serves as a plasma screen. They've replayed the parade twice already. The camera crews spent a reasonable amount of time on our entrance, but the way that they keep on flicking their lenses back to District 12 is pathetic. As if dressing up would actually make those underfed scamps a threat. They could both be dead in seconds if I set my mind to it. But who would? Like I said, they aren't a threat.
"Geez, calm down already. They probably can't even lift a knife. And they're not going to take any of our sponsors. I'll make sure of that." I smirk, after 3 days of training; we would be assessed by the Game makers. "Now get out of my room. It's past curfew, and we have training tomorrow." I continue. I lift my head to see Clove spit out a few more choice insults, some aimed towards me, before she strides out of the room, still fuming.
Katniss:
The training attire fits well enough, although whoever tailored it probably thought that I would have more curves. This morning, having learned from my mistakes, I had only turned the dials for heat and water when showering. It was still intriguing to imagine what the other functions were used for; I had no idea why anybody would want to have glitter dumped on them while the water was still on their skin. Then again, I hardly understand anything here in the Capitol. Back home, lukewarm water and a bar of scentless, grey soap took the place of fancy shampoos and creams. Feeling comfortable in the black, red, and silver nylon shirt and pants, I slip my feet into the lithe shoes at my doorway, and make my way to the living room, where Haymitch, Effie, and Cinna are waiting.
I sit down on the couch, my hands on my lap, until Peeta enters the room, in similar clothing. We are escorted to the Training Center, which is in between floors 6 and 7. The silver doors are merely feet away before Haymitch bestows upon us his "wisdom".
"Both of you, listen. Try to learn how to throw a knife, tie some knots, and even spend a while at the plants station. Learn as much as you can, and try to find out who's friendly and who's not." He sounds like he's only a little drunk, so I take this as good advice.
We enter the Training Center, and my eyes immediately stray towards the wall where hundreds of weapons are waiting. They have everything from huge silver bows to tiny wooden slingshots. Around the spacious room, tributes have already claimed stations. I see the girl from 1, uniform showing more skin than it should, struggling to pull back the bowstring on a bow; and wince as she sends the arrow flying towards the windows in the back of the room, narrowly impaling a training attendant.
"Where do you want to go first?" Peeta asks. I can see him eyeing the camouflage station, and I know that he's itching to paint something. He's told me that he decorates the cakes, beautiful flowers and delicate designs.
I'd rather try some of the weapons, but I don't want to abandon my district partner. The indecision that flashes in my eyes show, because Peeta heads towards the camouflage station, calling out over his shoulder that it was alright if I went to practice with the knives.
I weave between the stations, finally stopping when I reach the target area. Dummies and targets are everywhere, bright red and blue paint marring the rubber and wood. The District 1 boy and Clove are already there, each armed with deadly-looking blades. Clove throws her knife at a target that is ten feet away, and it hits the bulls-eye. As she goes to retrieve the weapon, I think that it is fortunate that I run fast.
The weapon selection is so large that it's impossible to choose.
I decide on a small but lethal looking knife that I can grip easily. Ignoring District 1 and his huge knife with its jagged edge, I move down the row of targets, putting a good 7 or 8 feet between myself and him. Perhaps throwing knives was like shooting a bow…you just had to have good aim. Perhaps.
But when I try to hurl the knife at a nearby dummy, it bounces off the rubber surface, and ends up on the floor. Wouldn't that be handy if the dummy were an opponent…the weapon doesn't even pierce their skin, they get a free knife, and a chance to kill me. Lovely.
Ever vigilant, I pick up the knife and try again. This time, it actually sticks into the dummy's arm, which is an improvement. Next, I aim for the wooden targets to my left. Clove and the boy are still hitting the bulls-eyes every time, and I feel a pang of jealousy. But they are Careers, so that must be the reason why they are so deadly with sharp objects.
The way that Clove throws effortlessly looks well-practiced, and I imagine her standing with a knife as a young child, training for a time when her skills would be necessary. I retrieve my knife for what seems like the millionth time, one hand gripping the wooden handle, the other hand pushing against the bright target.
Suddenly, I see a flash of silver out of the corner of my eye. A knife barely clears my nose before lodging itself inches deep in the wood, the handle still quivering, in between my outstretched fingers. Mere centimeters away from my freshly manicured nails.
"What the hel-? Whichever idiot threw the knife, you almost chopped off my fingers. " I growl, the indignation written across my face. I don't realize who I am talking to until Cato jogs up to the target and pulls the knife out, smirking. His short blond hair is sticking up, perfect as always, kept in place with gel.
"Sorry 'bout that, District 12. Didn't see you there." Cato answers. He doesn't sound very apologetic. The smirk is still on his face.
"My name is Katniss." I retort, unamused. If his aim was off by even the slightest of millimeters, the knife would have been lodged in my hand, not the target. But what was I thinking? The great and mighty Cato never missed. "You conceited jerk." I add under my breath.
"Alright, Katniss. No need to get all riled up.." He heads back to the area where you stand to throw the weapons, and I follow, trying to match my quick but short strides to his longer ones.
"I know who you are. And you obviously need glasses if you didn't see me." I watch as Cato picks up a spear, his icy eyes examining the metal shaft.
"Maybe. But maybe you're just not important enough to be noticed." His eyes are as icy and arrogant as ever, but the smirk is gone, replaced by a crooked smile. I know that he's joking. But that doesn't stop me from remaining furious. He turns, distracted by the overwhelming scent of lilacs that had entered the area. I wrinkle my nose at the unwelcome smell. The blonde girl from district 1 makes her way towards us, a hopeful smile on her face. She flashes a grin towards Cato, white teeth practically glowing.
"Glimmer." I notice that the bored expression is back on Cato's face, accompanied with another smirk. I restrain from rolling my eyes, and wonder if this is Cato's real personality. But the image of the crooked smile and amused look that had been replaced so quickly still is fresh in my mind.
"Cato." Glimmer replies with the same amount of coolness. "Have you decided who will be part of your group yet?" She arches an eyebrow, clearly expecting to be invited. A pale finger absent-mindedly twirls a strand of her honey-colored hair.
"No, actually. I haven't seen enough yet. You could be one of the lucky few, if you're better with a knife than you were with that bow." Cato snickers. So he saw what I saw, although there was no real need to point it out. Maybe he only wants the best in his group. Glimmer furrows her eyebrows and looks confused.
"But...I was fine with the bow." She purses her lips and looks towards her district partner who is still hurling knives through the air. "Whatever. I'll just go practice with Marvel." Glimmer walks away, still looking slightly confused.
The spear leaves Cato's hands and skewers through a dummy that is twenty feet away. Suddenly, I don't want to be practicing next to this trained physical wonder, handling swords as if they were toothpicks. Next to him, I look even worse. And I can't afford that.
Seeing that Cato has now moved on to hacking another rubber dummy to bits with a sword, I slip away and join Peeta, who has mastered the art of camouflage. I look back towards Cato, who is beheading an unlucky mannequin, and I raise my eyebrows at Peeta's beautiful, but most likely useless work. I do not know if Cato is "friendly", but tomorrow I shall find out.