Chapter 3- Mini-Reaping
Tacitus was stiff beside me, and Clove’s face was out of my vision, blocked by Camilla’s long, brown hair, which had grown extremely long for the past three years.
“You all know what time it is,” Coach smiled at us. We all nodded our heads, too nervous for words. “Now, obviously, the two picked will go back into rigorous training, and the two who don’t will be able to spend their last talking days in the rooms.”
“Of course, Coach,” Camilla fawned, and Tacitus grunted approval.
“Tacitus, you’ve been built so well. You’re the strongest of them all,” Coach explained. “You’re handy with that sword, and you kill quickly and can adapt well.” Tacitus beamed with pride.
“Thanks,” he said, gruffly.
“And Cato,” Coach turned to me, wasting no time. “It feels like just yesterday we started Project X. But it was three years ago, Cato. Three. And now you are here. An furious warrior, a strong fighter, and a promising tribute. Camilla,” he diverted his attention. “My girl, you have done so well, and I swear, that bow and arrow is lucky to have you.”
Camilla laughed, her eyes happy with the prospect she might be the year's tribute.
“And Clove. Last but not least, Clove,” Coach murmured. “You are so talented. I’ve made myself wait all these years until I told you that, so you wouldn’t be too head strong. But Clove, you are headstrong anyway. Among other things, too, but definitely head strong.”
Something about that complement did not seem right not me, but we all let it slide.
“I’m not going to draw this out,” Coach said, fast. He pulled out a bucket he had been holding behind him. It was called the D2 Volunteer Reap. When our volunteers get chosen.
Coach reached his long, white fingers in, and pulled out one slip of white paper. He opened it so slowly, I hoped no one could hear the pounding of my heart. “Cato,” he paused, and I broke out into a huge grin. I’m going in. I’m going in. “Congratulations. You are to be this year’s tribute.”
I couldn’t help but see what might be proudness in Coach’s eyes, but he averted them before I could form a question.
Tacitus screamed.
“F**k you!” he yelled, obviously in pain, and to no one in particular. “D*mn it!”
Coach couldn’t look at him, Camilla was white as a sheet, and Clove met my eyes. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but there was really no use trying to figure it out.
“Tacitus,” Coach said firmly.
“I cannot believe my whole d*mn like has led up to this a**hole moment!” he howled and I couldn’t help myself.
I laughed.
I laughed until my lungs hurt, and my sides doubled over in pain.
“Tacitus,” Coach said, his voice thin. “Stop it.”
Of course, I laughed even harder because Tacitus wouldn’t, and I wasn’t yelled at for laughing.
A peacekeeper, one done with his training in the adjacent building to the Academy, grabbed Tacitus’s arm. When Tacitus slapped his arm away and began to stomp around, looking like he hated the world (which he probably did at that point), the peacekeeper knocked him upside the head and he crumbled to the ground, unconscious.
Finally I caught my breath, and stopped laughing. As Tacitus was dragged away, probably back to his room to wait for the reaping to begin, I couldn’t help but feel this tiny little twinge of sympathy in my heart. Maybe I wasn’t so brainwashed and wired after all.
YOU ARE READING
Thank You, Girl on Fire {Cato's Story}
FanfictionEvery tribute has a story. Cato, on the outside, seems ruthless, murderous, terrible. You can't deny he's done terrible things. But it's what drives Cato, and his fellow tribute, Clove, to these extremes is what nobody knows. No one knows Cato's pas...
