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When I wake up the next morning I almost forget that I'm in the Capitol. Lying next to Cato, warm in bed, it feels like a lazy Sunday back in District 2. But today is anything but that. Training starts today. Whereas I don't need the practice, today sets the tone for the entire games. I have to prove that I'm a force to be reckoned with and scare off any competition. Training doesn't start until 10:00 so I don't have to worry about anyone coming to wake Cato and I up for a little while. I wrap the sheets over me tighter and snuggle up closer to Cato, greedily taking some of his body heat. I try to lay there relaxed, but find my mind racing. All the action the past few days has been a nice distraction to keep my thoughts away from the inevitable future looming ahead of me. I consider waking Cato up so we can talk about something a little more pleasant, but I don't want to deprive him of any sleep.
I wonder why this had to happen to us of all people. I find my thoughts landing on my parents and I can't help but to blame them for my situation. What kind of parent pays immense sums of money for their child to be trained for the games? It's not like there would have been any chance of me being selected if I hadn't been trained. There are always volunteers. No, I had not been put on Lawrence's gym just in case my name got pulled. My family was wealthy, we had no need for the prize money. So why then? For the glory? For fame? Bragging rights? The house in Victor's Village? None of those seem like good enough reasons anymore. I had never questioned my parent's motives before, but back then I thought that I would be going into the quell with a lesser district partner. I had always assumed that I would be the winner, hands down. I had never even considered dying before the recent turn of events. I have to tell myself that my parents didn't either, that I was put in the training center because they knew I could win the games. But convincing myself of that doesn't help. I still hate them. Thinking about my family is pointless now. It will only distract me from the games and get in the way of my planning to get Cato out alive.
I remember watching games in the past where two friends from the same district were reaped. I would shake my head in disgust, watching as one would try to fight off attackers, allowing the other to flee. I thought it was stupid, why would you ever sacrifice yourself in the games? Your death does not guarantee the other's survival. But now I sympathize with those kids. I understand. They did it because of the tiny flicker of hope that the other could make it out. They did it to give their friend more time, a chance of having a life after the games. Where I once laughed at those pathetic tributes who were so loyal, I was now prepared to do the exact same thing. I would stick with Cato until the final 4 then leave while he was sleeping to fight the others in the arena. Hopefully I could take 1 out with me, but even if I couldn't, Cato could easily handle all the tributes... Except perhaps the giant boy from 11. If we got him in an alliance though, we could easily lead him into a trap, so I'm not too worried about him.
But getting myself killed would be the easy part. The hard part would be convincing Cato that I accept his decision to save my life and make sure he doesn't sacrifice himself before I can.
Cato shifts next to me, waking up. His eyes open for a second then close again. He reaches out and puts his arm around me, pulling me even closer to him as he falls back asleep, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. I wonder when we became so coupley. We certainly had more affection for each other then my parents did. But then again, they were set up by the district matchmaker, as were everyone in 2. I realize that I had never really talked to my mom about relationships. I had no idea if she requested my dad or if there had been another who she loved that was matched with someone else. I envy my parents now. They at least had a chance to be with someone special. I glance over at the clock and see that it is almost 9:00. I should wake up Cato so we can go eat breakfast and get changed. I want to be down in the training room by 9:30.
After getting Cato out of bed and hooking up for a bit, he asks me to stay for a few minutes to pick out what he should wear to training. I sit down on the bed, waiting for Cato to show me options as he opens the closet door. "Shit!" he says, as he pulls two outfits out of the closet. "What?" I ask him, worried. He turns around and holds out the choices for me to see. My eyes widen and I say, "Oh my god," because in one hand Cato has clothes for himself, but in his left hand, the clothes on the hanger are undoubtedly meant for me. "Quincis must have picked this out for me yesterday and put it in the closet last night while we were sleeping." I assume that Quincis is his stylist. "She must have seen us together in bed then went and told your stylist that you were in here, so he put your clothes in my room as well." "You don't think they told Zura or our mentors, do you?" I ask, panicked. "We better hope they didn't." Cato responds, grimly. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault! I should have slept in my own room. What if I ruined everything?" I say, my fears running wild. "Clove, come one. We both know that if you weren't in my room that I would be in yours. At least we had our clothes on. Maybe we can tell them that you got locked out of your room or that you had a nightmare and came into my room for comfort since we were friends back home. They can't prove anything." "You're right. Everything is fine. Ugh, I shouldn't have overreacted." I feel myself calming down and I wonder how Cato always comes up with a solution to everything. Voicing my thoughts, I say, "How do you always find a way to fix everything?" Cato just laughs and takes me into his arms in a reassuring hug. "I guess I just know what to say to get you to relax." he tells me, and I know that's true. The pregnancy test, the volunteer selection, the reaping. If nothing else, I knew I could count on Cato to get me through anything.
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