MEMORY (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter Three

The lunchroom is a large grey area crowded with metal tables. The first room I've seen that isn't completely white. Right now, I'm seated next to Marvel, picking at whats left of the chicken ceaser salad I had grabbed for lunch. Cato and Glimmer have been in their own conversation almost the entire meal.

"What do you guys think of all this?" Marvel interrupts.

Cato shoots him a glance than lowers his fork, "I mean.. if we have to fight, I will."

"Katniss seems like a spoiled bitch." Glimmer hums, shoving a piece of watermelon into her mouth.

I let out a deep sigh, "You guys really don't remember anything?"

All three of them turn to look at me, but only Marvel responds, "Nope."

"How are we supposed to trust these people if we don't remember anything about ourselves before the games?" My voice fades as I talk, cautious of nearby listeners.

Marvel rubs his chin, eyebrows in a furrow. Cato sets his hand on the table and points to me, "Do you remember anything?"

"I can see things. I can see some parts of the games. I know that I've killed people; very young people."

"We all did," Glimmer butts in.

"Yeah, I understand that, but we only did that because Snow told us too." I sneer, leaning forwards on the table.

"It was either life or death, Clove." she responds in a calm voice.

"And we all died."

Marvel clears his throat, "Whatever happened, Clove has a point."

I glance at Marvel before standing up from the table with my tray, "I'm just saying. He wants us to fight Katniss because she won and now there is an uprising. Sounds like he's just afraid of us."

I turn on my heel and walk away, keeping a close ear to the murmurs from the three of them. Once I dump the rest of my tray, I head back to my room. I notice an outfit on my bed with a number pinned to it. Number seventeen is marked on the sleeve as well as the back collar. If I remember correctly, the outfit is similar to our training outfits.

As I'm about to slide off my shirt to see how the tight spandex fits on my torso, my door gets knocked on. I stride over and slide it open slowly until I'm met with clear blue eyes.

"I need to talk to you," Cato says, stepping into my room.

"Okay, sure come on it." I give him a look as he turns to face me. I slide the door shut and lock it, "What's up?"

"You can't be walking around talking about the kind of stuff you said at lunch today."

"Why not?" I cross my arms, mimicking his cold stance.

"It could get you into trouble and for some reason, I actually tolerate you more than my own girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?"

"Glimmer," Cato purses his lips.

"Ah," I hum, "that's probably because we're from the same district."

"Probably." Cato shrugs, then looks around my room, "I see you've decorated."

"Yeah, the walls were way to white and all the paint was way to bright." I sigh.

"I painted mine black," Cato chuckles, turning to face me again.

My stomach twists when we make eye contact, but I quickly break it and pick up my training shirt, "Have you gotten yours yet?"

Cato notices my tension and raises an eyebrow, "No."

"Hm," I hum, setting the shirt back down. "Anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

Cato rocks on his heels, "Do you remember anything else?"

"Not really. I mean, maybe I will in the future, but as of right now.. no."

"If you do, can you tell me?" Cato steps a bit closer to me and I tense up.

"Yeah, sure." I nod.

"Great, thanks Rivers."

I scrunch my face up and he tilts his head at my reaction, "Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what? Rivers?"

I nod again, " Yeah."

"I don't know. I guess it just.. slips out."

I don't respond, instead I just look towards my bathroom door and bite the inside of my cheek. The two of us remain silent, a comfortable silence, until Cato breaks it, "Do you think there's something about us we're forgetting?"

My head jerks to face him quickly, "What?"

"I mean, we were in the same district, Clove. When I watched you attack Katniss, I felt something."

"Guilt?" I spill out without meaning to.

Cato nods either way, "Yeah, guilt. I don't know why though."

"I couldn't tell you why."

We make eye contact again, but this time Cato steps closer. So close I can feel his breath on my face. His hand lightly moves up to my face and grabs a small loose piece of my hair then moves it so it's no longer on my face. Then he steps back as if what he just did was the most causal thing in the world.

"Thanks," I whisper.

He nods, "If there's one thing I remember. It's that you had long hair."

I run a hand through my hair and smile a bit, "I did, yes. They must have cut it."

"It looks nice," Cato looks over my face.

Before I can respond, my door gets knocked on again. This time, when I slide it open, it's a girl with long orange hair. Her eyes are big and blue, freckles across her face, "Clove." she says out of breath, "We need to talk."