Bad Boy Better Run (Clato)

Chapter Four: The Bad Boy's Enemy

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I stood proudly as I waited for my opponent - I mean District Partner, to be announced. Today was the day. The Reaping. It was finally here - and I didn't even have to volunteer. My name was pulled out of that large glass bowl, and no one had had the chance to volunteer; I was up those stairs to the stage like lightning. Was I surprised that I would be chosen? Not really. I planned on being in the 74 Annual Hunger Games one way or another. It just so happens I didn't have to put a lot of effort into it.

"Blake Schmit!" the Capitol escort called, her annoying accent ringing through the air. She had bright purple poofy hair, accented by silver and deep purple makeup. Creepy tattoos snaked up and down her arms, and parts of her face were even tattooed with the swirly floral designs that matched her arms. Apart from that, her outfit looked almost normal. Almost. It was a purple (of course) business suit, the only thing different was that the shoulders of the outfit were poofy and extremely hideous.

A boy with nicely toned legs but scrawny arms began stepping forward when a strong, determined voice shouted from the crowd, "I VOLUNTEER!"

I raised an eyebrow and looked around for my competition. It didn't take long. The crowd had parted, and a very familiar tall, blonde, muscular boy was making his way up to the stage with a confident smirk plastered on his face.

The Capitol escort lifted her microphone. "What's your name, dear?"

Cato plucked the microphone from her hands and brought it to his lips. "Oh, you don't need to worry about what my name is. You'll get that later...and more."

He winked at her, leaving her dumbfound, before taking his place next to me, not even glancing my way. It had been at least a year since I had spoken to him, and when I had, it had turned out bitter.

- A YEAR AND A HALF AGO -

We were in detention. Apparently, it was my fault. And with the day's previous events of getting beaten by some jerks, Cato was in a really bad mood. He was currently giving me the silent treatment in which I found funny. Didn't girls usually act like that?

A smile crept onto my face as a picture of Cato dressed in a skirt wearing makeup flashed through my mind. Ick, he would make a horrific-looking girl.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" I demanded, poking him in the arm.

He scowled. "If you value your life you'll quit talking to me."

I almost laughed, but held it in. "Yeah, that whole tough guy attitude doesn't intimidate me. Seriously. Man up. This silent treatment thing does not work for me."

Cato scoffed and turned to me. "Yeah, well, it's not about what works for you. Just stay out of myway."

To be honest, he shouldn't even be acting this way. Sure, I didn't thank him for "saving my life", which, by the way, he didn't, I could have totally handled it myself, big deal. He took on a few guys and stuff, but come on, anyone could have done that. For a bad boy, he was extremely sensitive.

"You can't seriously be mad at me!' I exclaimed, "I didn't even do anything!"

"I saved your life and you blew it off like it was nothing!" he spat, glaring at me.

I laughed bitterly. "What, you want me to give you a handkerchief as a token of my gratitude and then we can ride off into the sunset on a noble steed? Is that what you want?"

Cato roughly got out of his seat, slinging his bag over his shoulder before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving me alone in the classroom. The teacher hadn't even bothered to check in on us while we served detention.