CLOVE'S POV:
I return home so excited I can barely breathe. All dread of the Games is dissolved in my thrill at what Cato just gave me.
I don't show anyone else the ring. My mom would throw a fit and assume all the wrong things. She wouldn't understand, never really loving anybody in her life, with the possible exception of my dad. She met him in the Capitol after her Games, and they came back to Two together and got married.
Instead, when she asks how my evening was, I put on a casual smile and say, "It was fine." Then I sprint up the stairs three at a time, dive into my room, and collapse onto the bed, hugging my pillow and burying my face in it.
I can win the Games. I'll be motivated enough to do that when I have this to come home to! Cato! He'll be so proud of me!
I spend a night sleepless with excitement. The couple times I doze off, I see myself as victor of the 74th Hunger Games with Cato congratulating me. In between fantastic dreams, I switch on my light and read the inscription on the ring repeatedly:
CLATO.
Around two in the morning, I decide I definitely can't sleep, so I switch on the light, pick up my knives, and start hurling them at my target which hangs on the wall. The first one lands in the dead center. The second one knocks out the first one and they both fall onto the floor. I aim, and thrust the third knife, landing it in the center.
Satisfied, I crawl back into bed. Tomorrow's the reaping. No backing out.
I never told my mom I was planning to volunteer this year, but I think she guessed it when she saw my smug smile.
"It's your big moment, Clove. Find your best outfit."
"Oh, I've already got that covered," I respond. Retreating to my room, I dress in the same black outfit I wore on my date with Cato. I pull my hair into a simple black ponytail and add a pair of glittering earrings.
I wait in the crowd at the reaping, barely able to contain my excitement. Because this is it! What I've been waiting my whole life to do! I watch other kids arrive and join the huge crowd. Some of them look excited, some nervous. I already see a few other girls in my age group who look intent on volunteering, but I'll make sure it's me.
Werret Davies, the District 2 escort, walks out onto the stage and gives his customary greeting. I don't mind him so much, even though he's from the Capitol. He has a nice smile beneath his maroon makeup.
Werret's arm dives into the girl's globe and he pulls out a slip of paper. I grit my teeth. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I'm volunteering. No questions asked.
"The female tribute from District Two is... Alayne Merreck!"
"I VOLUNTEER!" I yell, almost before he's done speaking. Suddenly, I hear my words echoed by another. I squint through the crowd and see a tall girl with curly brown hair, bouncing up and down with eagerness.
Oh, no you don't, I think. I said it first. "We have a volunteer!" exclaims Werret like it's some big surprise, even though people volunteer almost every year. I square my shoulders and get ready to step into the spotlight.
Only no one around me is looking at me. With horror, I realize they're all looking at that idiot! She looks just like one of those girl's that's normally hanging around Cato when she can get past me. Well, she isn't going to steal my show too. Ignoring protests from the surrounding kids as I push past them, I stalk up to the platform. "Thank you!" I say loudly. Werret's eyes fall on me from his position on the platform, and he looks confused.
"I'm the volunteer!" I say, even louder than before. Werret stil doesn't register. Meanwhile, the chic who volunteered after me is prancing haughtily toward the stage. It's now or never.
Without really thinking about what I'm doing, I dive at her, toppling her to the ground as she screams and cries out. I hear the crowd gasp, but I don't care. If I'm going to be a tribute, I've got to fight for it. It'll prove I'll be worth something in the arena.
She begins to fight back, and we are rolling over each other on the ground while exclamations and jeers echo from the crowd.
"Leave her alone! She didn't do anything wrong!"
"Hey, who are you anyway?"
"I... volunteered... first!" I screech back at whoever said that, while I successfully wrestle the girl the ground. Our faces are inches from each other when she unexpectedly grins.
"Oh, it's you."
I jab my elbow into her shoulder, pinning her to the ground. "So it's me, eh? You'll know it's me once I win this thing."
She's screaming like a child now, but I caught the malice in her eyes. The crowd, falling at once for her pity act, begins to rush to her defense.
"Isis, isn't it?" I demand as I search her face. A pathetic whimper is my answer. "Well listen, Isis," I say sharply, "you're going to let me be in this thing, OK? You hear? The position is rightfully mine and you can't pretend it's not!" I'm speaking in a hushed whisper so only she can hear, but her babyish cries are rising rapidly. I can't believe the crowd is still on her side. If this was the Games, she'd already be dead the way she's acting.
Isis drops the act enough to shoot me a malicious glance. "Clove Kentwell," she hisses. "Well, at least you'll be out of the way. I can get at Cato all I want without you there to... poke me with your little... toys. Actually thinking you have a chance at him when he's--mine!"
That's all she can say before I whip out one of my knives. "Oh, so you think they're little toys? Well why don't I show you what they really are right now!" I'm so furious and angered at all her unfairness and the way she's talking about Cato that I'm not even caring what the crowd thinks. I trace the outline of her face with my blade while she's screaming and cursing. But she deserves it. She was asking for it!
Her face bleeding, she seems to finally give in. "Leave me alone!" she sobs. "I don't wanna go!" I get off her and meet a crowd of furious Peacekeepers.
"No violence at the reaping, Kentwell," one of them hisses.
"Thank you for that information," I say curtly before I ascend the stand and stalk over next to a bewildered Werret. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the Peacekeepers carrying Isis away. I avert my eyes from the disapproving crowd and hold my head high.
"Your name?" Werret asks nervously.
"Clove Kentwell," I answer stonily.
CATO'S POV:
I stand in the crowd, utterly stunned at Clove's behavior. She's earning herself nothing but hate from the rest. True, what that girl did was unfair, but Clove's taking it a bit too far. She's already broken a lot of rules in that one little action, and she barely realizes it. I realize that no one is on her side as the crowd around me sends jeers and disapproving remarks her direction. She's erect on that platform, looking so beautiful and proud it gives me chills.
Does she even know what she just did?
CLOVE'S POV
"Er... the male tribute," Werret mumbles, half to himself. He distractedly turns to the male globe, edging away from me all the while as though he's scared of standing next to me. I ignore the stares of the crowd as Werret lifts a slip of paper out of the male reaping dish. "The male tribute is..."
I wonder who it will be. Hopefully not someone too big, someone who could wrestle me down no matter how many knives I'm holding. I try to remind myself to stay hopeful as Werret reads, "Larry Scarvie!"
"I volunteer!"
I'm not here. This is not happening. HE. DID. NOT. JUST. SAY...
I feel like I've been plunged fifty feet underwater. Not only can I not breathe, my ears are so compressed my head feels capable of splitting in two. I've lost all feeling in my arms. I honestly don't know what keeps me rigid now that a dizzying sensation has enveloped me.
Luckily no one notices. They're all watching the cluster of boys. There's no mistaking that tall blond boy as he moves forward through the crowd toward me. I'm about to faint. What's he doing? What happened to our agreement?
Cato ascends the steps and stands next to me. I turn to him and open my mouth as if to ask, but he shakes his head, and I fall into a deep silence, but my heart is racing.
"Well, a pair of volunteers!" exclaims Werret. "Your name, young man?"
"Cato Hadley," he says.
"Clove Kentwell and Cato Hadley, District 2 tributes for the 74th Hunger Games!" yells Werret, but I'm barely listening. My head is still submerged in a tank of water. A deep tank. I can't hear anything. Finally, I turn to Cato and stare at him questioningly.
"Listen Clove, we can talk later," he mouths at me, but it's barely registering. He just betrayed me. We enter the Justice Building, escorted by Peacekeepers, and I sink down on an ivory-inlaid sofa, breathing hard with shock. Anyone seeing me might think I was overcoming a shock of being reaped. They would not know that I'm not overwhelmed by the horror of my own prospect at all. I volunteered. It's Cato.
"Clove," he says softly, taking my hands in his. They feel cold, like ice. "I'm sorry I volunteered. But I need to be in there to protect you."
"Why, Cato? I can protect myself just fine!" I object, shocked that he actually thinks me incapable of survival.
He searches my face. "Do you realize what you just did out there? Clove?"
"What do you mean? It was rightfully me! I volunteered first!" I argue.
"I know you did, Clove. But the audience doesn't see that. All they see is you beating an innocent girl senseless in front of everyone."
I flush with rage. "She was not an innocent girl! You know that, Cato! And I wasn't beating her senseless! If you only knew the malicious things she was saying to me. She insulted you, Cato!" I'm on the verge of tears at this point; my words are so passionate.
Cato takes me by the shoulders. "I'm not telling you what I think. It's what those people out there think!" He points out the ajar doors of the Justice Building to where the voices of the crowd still echo as they protest.
My throat is aching. "Cato... I'm sorry!"
"Don't tell me that!" he replies.
"Cato, you shouldn't have volunteered," I say again. "Please."
It wasn't until I saw you up there that I realized you might need protection," Cato says to me. "You can make enemies, Clove."
I'm still frustrated that he destroys what might have been our chance at a relationship. "I don't need your help."
He ignores this comment.
"Clove!" comes a shout. My mom is running toward me. Now she's shaking my hand so hard I'm afraid it'll fall off. "Congratulations, sweetheart! And you too, boy," she addresses Cato somewhat condescendingly.
"Like mother, like daughter, I see," bellows Werret as he strolls over. "Ah, young Clove Kentwell, already following in her mother's footsteps! Ready to file your teeth to match?" He laughs hard at his own joke.
I nod, but I'm too distant to give him a proper answer.
My dad comes to say goodbye, but I'm only partly aware of it as he gives me a quick hug. "You'll be great, sweetheart. Awesome job out there."
"Thanks," I mumble halfheartedly. Then my family's gone and it's just me and Cato. But we're not looking at each other. We exchange no words as we leave the Justice Building and board our train. It's not until I'm alone, in the privacy of my own room, that I curl up in the corner and actually dare look at my token again.
But I glance at it and then look away quickly, because even just looking at it hurts so badly. I immediately think of the boy next door who should not have been here and quickly put it away again.
What's the use in pursuing a relationship? He's just ruined whatever one could possibly have existed. Only one of us can escape and he knows that. Either one will die or we both will. I hug my knees closer to my chin.
It puts a whole new meaning on the phrase "I'll be with you until the end."