TWO

Chapter Seven

My side starts to cramp when I'm ten minutes away from home. Every muscle in my body is screaming as I hunch over a park bench. My cheeks are hot and probably super red, my ponytail is hardly up anymore, and my forehead is drenched in sweat. You would think that a run in the middle of spring would be cool, but instead I feel as though I'm on fire. As I look around the park, I study the surroundings. By our District Statue a couple of young kids are running around laughing, the bench next to them occupied by what looks to be their mothers. To the right of me, a young couple walk hand in hand licking ice cream. That's when my eyes fall on the pizza parlor. I know that Paris is inside because they're seated close to the window. Her long brown hair is in a puffy braid, complimented by one of her signature District One sundresses; she must have stopped home before getting there.

Before I can stop myself I'm walking towards the doors of the parlor, the aroma of pizza fills my nostrils and I hesitate to open the door, knowing the smell will grow more pungent. I look around the place first, a group of students I recognize are seated in the corner, papers sprawled out everywhere. When I look over at Paris, she's already standing in front of me, arms crossed, a small glare on her face.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses.

I look at her for a bit before responding, "I was just running around and thought I'd stop by."

"Well you should probably continue that run."

"Are you really that mad at me, Paris?" It's my turn to cross my arms.

"Yes, I am."

"Why? I was just being honest with you. You told me to always be hon-"

"What you said was rude and uncalled for, Clove. I'm your best friend. If you had a problem with something, you could've approached the situation a bit better."

My eyes narrow at her comment, "You pissed me off and I let you have it, there's nothing wrong with that."

"You were a bitch."

"I'm always a bitch."

"Yeah, but this time you weren't funny or cute about it."

"I wasn't trying to be, Paris. I had a stressful day and I just want this whole situation to be dropped. Can I please-"

"I think you should go," she interrupts. My mouth is still agape when she speaks and I blink at her.

"Alright," I mutter, "fine."

"Bye."

I nod and slowly turn around, dropping my arms and walking towards the door. Before I exit, I can hear Paris laugh and it stings.

I spend the rest of the day roaming around the District until a peacekeeper stops to tell me curfew is in place. Inside my home after I walk through the front door, my mom is laying on the couch, the lamp on the dimmest setting next to her. She's got on a white lab coat and matching white sneakers, glasses still on. I walk over and slowly pull them off her face and set them aside, then lay a blanket across the frail woman and head to my room.

When I wake up the next morning still in my previous outfit from the other day I groan. My legs are sore from my run yesterday and my shoulder is stiff from throwing.

"I'm leaving at 7:30 again so be ready!" my dad yells at my shut door.

I sigh and begin to stand up, my toes cold against the hardwood floor. When I walk into the bathroom I start the shower then take a look at myself in the mirror. My nose is still bruised, but it's healing, which is good. As the mirror begins to fog I strip down from yesterday's outfit and hop into the shower. The warmth of the water once again soothes my aching muscles and I take a moment to let it all in. After my shower I quickly brush my teeth and fluff hair then slide on a pair of skinny jeans, a plain white shirt with a sports bra, and my dirty white shoes. By the time I'm out in the living room it's 7:24, only because I woke up at 6:30 today.

My dad ignores me the whole drive to school and when I walk into the classroom he doesn't bother asking if I want any coffee like he usually does, so I head to my locker and eventually see Paris; slowly walking up to her.

"Hey," I approach. She glances at me before shoving a book into her locker, "Are we really going to continue doing-"

"Hey Cato!" She beams, closing her locker and walking around me. I stand there, hands holding the straps of my backpack, before turning to look at the tall blonde next to her. His eyes are already on me when we make eye contact so I shoot him a look and hurry off to class before he decides to open his mouth.

When I walk into class I sit in my normal spot, and when Paris walks in, she looks shocked when Cato plops down in her normal spot behind me. I glance over my shoulder at Cato before leaning back in my desk reading the blackboard.

Apparently my dad has an announcement, but it's probably just going to be him bickering about how I called him out last night.

Per usual, he walks in holding his coffee mug at the bell and sets it down on his old black desk; turning to face us with too big of a smile, "Good morning, before we get to the announcement, I'm going to be handing out your quizzes from Monday."

Behind me, Cato accidentally kicks the desk's leg and I turn around to look at him then without thinking I talk to him, "How do you think you did?"

He tilts his head, probably just as confused as I am by our conversation, "Probably failed."

You did.

I shrug, then turn back to face the front. A few moments later my dad hands me my quiz and I don't bother checking the grade since I already know what I got. Cato groans behind me, so I figure he knows about his disappointment.

"Alright," my dad leans back on his desk and pushes his glasses up on his nose, "I have an exciting announcement to tell you all."

Taking a deep breath, I lean my head back, but as I do I feel someone messing with my hair so I look back at Cato who gives me a small look, "What?"

"You're hair is all over my desk," he mumbles, trying not to get my dad's attention as he talks.

"Sucks," I mock and lean my head back again, this time making sure my hair goes everywhere. Cato exhales annoyed, but my head whips back up when my dad finally says,

"We're going to District Five."