Clato: Cuts Beneath the Surface

Chapter 7

Let's get one thing straight here: no, Ralae is NOT ok with Cato and I eating dinner together. I don't see what the big deal is, he still eats lunch with her and her cronies everyday. But apparently Ralae is used to unconditional attention, as most bimbos are. She's so stupid, I can't believe she's still in the running against me for the games.

Only a few days after Cato starts sitting with me, I notice some very nasty words carved into my training locker. Instead of being ashamed or upset--I grin. Now I have proof of how mean Ralae is to show to Cato at just the right moment. I don't know why I care about him ditching her but I feel like I should help him. We are friends.

Of course I can't let Ralae get away with it, so the next day she opens her locker to find a bloody knife inside, staining her designer clothes. It's one of my old ones, not useful anymore for throwing. I would never waste my favorite knives on Ralae. Unless it was to throw them at her face.

Now of course, Ralae being Ralae, decided to hurt me back in her own special way. She starts spreading rumors about me. Stuff like how I'd been the one to kill my parents (please, I was only five) or that I slept with some random guy named Chase that everyone else seems to know but I couldn't pick out of a police line-up. The funny part is, Ralae actually believes these rumors will hurt me. She forgets that we are in district two. That I am Clove Fuhman. And that I have a heart of steel.

The rumors cause more people to snicker at me in the halls. People taunt me as I walk, making fun of my hair, clothes, life. One girl named Elise smiles at me. I glower back and move on. Any kindness directed at me is usually pity. I get a few more pranks pulled on me than usual but it's not really a big deal. Still, I am a contender for the games. I can't have the trainers thinking I am a laughing stock. So when the next Tournament arrives, I sign up in the 18-year olds division. And no one stops me.

Tournaments are a strictly observed competition every few months to showcase our training. It's mostly sparring but it gets insanely competitive.

Knowing I will be facing larger and stronger opponents, I put in extra training hours. It doesn't cost any money to use the gyms so I'm okay. When Favian finds out, he makes me pay in a different way. "Don't you love me? Don't you want to spend time with me? I'm your father, Clove. I want to be with you." He touches my cheek and I fight the urge to flinch back.

He is not my father, not really. But I can't say that. It will hurt him. And if there's one thing the academy failed me at, it's teaching me to forget that love exists. Favian is the only person I care about and see where it's gotten me. Love is weakness.

Love is death.

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Cato doesn't take pity on me during training and I respect him for that. When we train we are partners, when we eat we are friends. It's better that way.

It's the night before Tournament and I am thrown on the ground again, the wind flying out of me because of Cato's brute strength. I get up quickly and we continue to spar, me kicking him in the head several times as payback. When Favian finally calls it quits for the day I head upstairs to work out some more, followed by Cato.

He shakes his head to the side and says, "Jesus Clover, that was a hard kick." I just grin and pick up my sword. "Not tonight. We have Tournament tomorrow, my last one ever. I want to run agility so I'm not sore in the morning."

"That's fine," I say. Then, "Is it weird?"

"Is what weird?"

"I don't know, being a senior, going to your last tournament? What will you do with your life after it all?"

"After the games you mean?"

"Yes. What happens after the games?"
He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. His blue eyes light up in the darkness, then he sighs heavily.

"Honestly Clove, I'm not sure. I've spent my entire life training for the Games. I've never allowed myself to think about after, but I've also never imagined if I don't make it. I don't think anyone would really care if I died in the arena."

"I know what you mean. But Cato," I take a tiny step closer to him, "people will miss you."

They won't miss me.

"Of course they will," he smirks arrogantly and returns to his normal Cato self. I awkwardly stand there as he sets up the agility course, wondering if he would miss me if I never came back. For the first time since we met, I'm wishing Cato and I weren't going into the same Hunger Games.

We train for a few more hours, joking easily about the opponents we will crush tomorrow and then head to our separate locker rooms. When I enter mine, Ralae and her plastic minions are waiting for me.

"Well," she croons, "if it isn't Clove back from her special training sessions." I ignore her and try to step past them only to be blocked by Narissa and Kaitlyn. Ralae takes a few steps towards me, boxing me in against the lockers. I feel my fingers itch for the knives concealed against my skin.

"Tell me Clove," Ralae continues, "why are you spending so much time with my boyfriend?" At this I snort, causing Ralae to shove me against the lockers.

"We're training partners dumbo, that means we train together." I spell it out for her like I'm talking to a two year old. "Is wittle Walae jealous?" She shoves me again. I whip out a knife and hold it to her throat. It would be so easy. But no, I'll get my revenge at the Tournament tomorrow.

"I'm just looking out for Cato. He is MY boyfriend and you're such a whore. I don't want him getting hurt," She croons.

"Then maybe you should stop sleeping around on him," I hiss, shoving her off of me and marching out of the lockers.

No one says a word as I pass by except Elise, who whispers, "Crush her tomorrow." I just nod.

Obviously I will make Ralae pay. Hopefully in more ways than one.

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A/N Please vote and comment! I'd love to hear thoughts and suggestions about the characters, plot, etc!