promises • cato the hunger games

Six

"Tributes, we welcome you. We salute your courage, and your sacrifice. And we wish you Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

The crowd explodes. I glare at him. Sacrifice? I don't remember ever agreeing to this. And happy hunger games? Please. Oh yeah, and I'm sure the odds are totally in everyone's favour.

"I guess he's on your list of people you hate?" whispers Cato, smirking.

"Yep. Right on the top."

Thankfully, the chariots start to move again and take us round to below the training centre. I jump off as soon as it stops.

"Wasn't that amazing?" sighs Cato.

"Oh, yeah. I can hardly contain my joy," I retort sarcastically. He just rolls his eyes. Brutus, Enobaria and the stylists walk over to us.

"Not bad, Cato. Not bad at all," says Brutus. I'm guessing this is as close as he ever comes to praise. He turns to me. "You should have smiled more."

Well what a surprise.

Cato's glaring at the tributes from Twelve. "Why are you staring at them?"

"They took my spotlight."

"What? Oh, get a grip Cato, seriously."

"I'm being serious. Look, it doesn't matter anyway. I'll get them in the arena."

I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. "You're being ridiculous. It's not their fault, is it? They were just wearing and doing what they were told. Like us."

"Whatever."

He really needs to grow up. Big time.

Luckily, Violetta comes up to us before I say something I know I'll regret. "Let's go you two, you must be hungry."

I nod and follow her she starts to weave her way through the other tributes. Cato's glaring at most of the other tributes now. I think he's trying to intimidate them, and I think it's kind of working. Some of them look nervous, and some of the littler kids look scared.

"Will you stop that?"

"What? I'm not doing anything," he says, putting an innocent face on and making his eyes go all puppy-like. I shake my head at him. He just laughs at me and then raises his eyebrows at some little kids standing next to their chariot; I think they're District Nine.

Grain. That would explain the bizarre outfits covered in barley or wheat or something. They both look so nervous it makes me feel terrible. I give Cato a hard shove (well, as hard as I can manage), and walk over to them. They look about twelve. I tower above them even though I'm small.

Anger starts to ripple through me, at how cruel the Capitol is. How could they do this to such little, innocent kids? I'm also kind of upset that no-one in their district volunteered for them. Did no one feel guilty? Or have I just got too used to living in Two, where there's always people to volunteer?

"Just ignore him," I say gently. "He's like that with everyone."

The boy nods quickly but doesn't say anything. "He's scary," whispers the girl.

I do see her point. I lean in closer to her. "I know he looks it, but he's a big softie really," I say truthfully enough.

"Really?" she asks.

"Yep."

"Hmm, I don't think so," pipes up the boy. "So are you a career too?"

"Me? Haha, no." I reply. "I'm flattered. Wish I was, but I'm not," I say wistfully.