FOUR -
This is not my year.
In the shocking turn of events I have forgotten all about my encounter in the Academy last night, the whispered conversations between the two in the corner as Loren and I left for home. All my sister's suspicions, discussed with giggles and blatant disregard over hair curlers, floated to the back of my mind the moment my name was called.
As Tallulah Frost asks the boy now standing beside me his name with a bright smile which suggests she doesn't really need to, everything comes flooding in to settle in my stomach. I feel like I'm about to vomit all over the stage. From the line at the back, Darius Hadley rises from his seat to trigger a second round of applause at his son's name. There is a glint in his cold blue eyes, inhuman and dangerous. I have never liked the man, however attractive his entire family have grown up to be, but today there is something different about him which sends a shiver down my spine.
"Cato Hadley." He says into Tallulah's microphone, followed by another bout of raucous cheers from the crowd below. The sound makes my insides roll and I have to steady myself on the mayor's lectern set up beside me.
I refuse to meet his stare until Tallulah beckons us forward. He is smiling, grinning actually but the gesture doesn't reach his eyes. They are devoid of any emotion at all.
"May I present Clove and Cato, your tributes to represent District 2 in the 74th annual Hunger Games." Our escort raises her arms to clap and the District follows in unison, the thousands of hands applauding, hoping that one of us will be the next to bring home the crown for 2.
When we shake hands, the golden boy is no longer smiling.
This is not my year.
° ° ° ° °
We are each allotted a room inside the Justice Building and a sufficient length of time to say goodbye to close friends and family, before the train arrives to take us away to the Capitol. I am corralled into a small parlour with brilliant white walls and stark black furniture, a pair of Peacekeepers stationed outside the door to bar any chance of escape. I settle into the pristine leather couch in the corner, picking at the hem of my blood red dress and trying not to panic.
I should have known he would volunteer. He practically said it so himself, last night in the Academy, and Loren's speculation was further evidence. But all thought of the Hadley boy disappeared as soon as my name was called from the stage.
This is meant to be his year. It was never meant to be mine, too.
I've managed to unravel one of the pretty appliqued patterns on my skirt by the time my first visitors are ushered inside by the Peacekeepers. Mother and father enter the room, and though both have tried their best to appear strong and proud, it's clear my mother has been crying. I will not give the viewers any reason to discount me from the running, so I quash the emotions building up in my chest with all the force I can muster when I go to hug them.
It does not matter that I am going into the arena with a Hadley. I still have a chance. He is not the only one who has been training for this since they were a child.
Mom and dad seem to have kept their arguments to a minimum today, perhaps because it's quite possibly the last time they will ever see their eldest daughter, or maybe it's something else entirely. They wish me luck in the arena, and father tells me not to worry that my District partner is Darius Hadley's son. Because though he may be something of a prince in 2, he still bleeds red like the rest of us.
A sudden image of Cato Hadley with gold running through his veins, resplendent and shining, appears in my head. I shut it out as quickly as it surfaced, a shiver running down my spine, but my father's words are true. When it all comes down to it, what makes us different, really.
Why shouldn't this be my year.
After my parents leave the room, Xavier makes his way inside. I did not expect him here. I thought that he'd be off congratulating my District partner instead, but alas it seems I warrant at least some of his attention. He's a fairly tall man, and though he's dressed up in Reaping finery the bulk of muscle beneath his shirt is obvious.
"I'm sorry, Clove. I didn't expect you to end up on that stage today." My trainer refuses to look at me properly, eyes fixed on the lush grey carpet beneath our feet. It almost matches the colour of Loren's Reaping dress, I notice, and the thought sends an unwanted ripple of something like dread through my veins. I expected her to come in with mom and dad. Maybe something is holding her up, a scuffle outside with one of the girls who wanted to volunteer for me, perhaps?
"He'd been planning it for a long time, but as soon as you were picked I didn't think he'd step up anymore." He adds.
So my sister and I weren't wrong when we thought he was catching one final training session last night – it must have been what they were whispering about as we left. "I thought he might have been." I give nothing else away, but when Xavier steps forward he pulls me into an unexpected hug.
"You are one of the best students I have ever had the honour of teaching, Clove Kentwell." He pulls back and smiles down at me, my shoulders clasped between his broad hands. "And I have no doubt that 2 will bring home a crown this year. Good luck in the arena."
He never specifies who he thinks will be wearing that crown, just turns on his heels and disappears into the hallway. I settle back onto the couch, confused and trying to calm my rapid breathing until finally the door bursts open again and there she is.
Loren.
"Guess I was wrong about Hadley, huh." She jokes, but her voice is shaky and there's no hint of the usual wide smile on her face. Her cheeks are covered in the glitter eyeshadow she so painstakingly applied to her lids this morning. All of that - putting on makeup back home in our night and day bedroom - feels like a million years ago.
But it's the tracks of silver running down her face and the wisps of hair which have come loose from their braided crown that drag me to reality. For the first time in our lives, Loren is easily distinguishable as the little sister.
It's that thought which breaks the barrier. We run to each other without a care, and she wraps her spindled arms around my neck and sobs until I can feel the tears collecting in my collar. I will myself to not break, not break. I can feel myself welling up slowly but surely, and I have to pull free of Loren's grasp before the dam collapses.
I shoot her the best smile I can muster, and it seems to work, however much we both know that it's not real. The corners of her mouth twist upwards, and eventually she joins me on the couch.
"So, I admit it, Hadley might not be crushing on you." She chokes out, but it's still Loren and it still makes me burst into laughter. Then a sudden thought seems to form in her mind. She gasps, flapping her arms and I can see everything I love about my sister that I am not, in that simple gesture. Loren will go far in life, whatever she choses to make of it and even if I am not there by her side.
"Maybe he did it to protect you! Maybe he's so in love with you that he can't bare to watch you go into the arena alone!" She exclaims dramatically, fake swooning back onto the couch as she collapses into flowery giggles. The idea is ridiculous and silly but completely Loren. It's the kind of last memory I would want to have of my sister, if it was going to be just that.
We spend the remainder of our time together joking like we always do, until Loren unclasps a pendant from her throat and holds it out to me. "I want you to wear it, as your token."
Loren has not taken this necklace off since we were children. It was a gift from our grandmother before she died, and my sister's prized possession. To take it into the arena with me is an honour I never expected to be given the chance of.
I refasten the small silver chain around my neck, the diamond-shaped charm tucking into the top of my dress. "Well, you know it'll get back to you, one way or another." I joke. It's the kind of thing Loren would normally chuckle at, but perhaps making such comments today is in bad taste.
My sister doesn't acknowledge it, she just pulls me into a tight hug and mutters into my ear. "Good luck Clove. And remember, he might be cute, but he's still not immune to a knife in the back."
° ° ° ° °
It is only a short distance from the Justice Building in the centre of 2 to the main station. I travel by car with Tallulah and the Peacekeepers, etching the scenes of home into my mind.
The Reaping crowd in the Market Square will have dispersed by now, but with no school today, the kids are playing out on the streets in droves. Young boys and girls kick balls up and down the dirt roads, swirling up dust into the mid-morning air, and a pair of older children are battling with wooden swords in their front yard. It seems like only yesterday that was Loren and me.
The sudden thought of my sister brings the threat of a tear to my eye and I turn my gaze away from the duellists, instead waving at an old man rocking on a chair in his porch. He smiles back, one beefy hand returning the gesture.
Our car meets Hadley's at the station. When he steps out of the vehicle, I notice a dark bruise forming on his cheek which I'm certain wasn't there when we shook hands on stage. It would not surprise me if Byatt Cole, the originally reaped male, decided to confront him about volunteering. The Academy boys tend to get pretty riled up when boundaries are overstepped, and what Hadley did today was definitely that.
It doesn't matter that he is from the most successful Hunger Games family in Panem, he still volunteered for a kid who wanted that spot in the arena. Amongst the youth of 2, something like that is practically a crime. The cruel theft of a chance at glory.
Hadley and I still refuse to make eye contact, even more now on his part it seems. It is hard to believe that this is the same boy I have shared a friendly rivalry with since I was thirteen years old. Suddenly, all the silly comments, the mocking, the constant bid to one-up each other, seems like child's play. Naïve and stupid. A mere fantasy.
The cameras are trained on us as we follow Tallulah up into the Capitol train waiting at the station, a squad of Peacekeepers surrounding us until we are safely inside the doors. They close at my heels with a sickening hiss-click of finality, and I feel the train begin to jolt beneath my feet.
This is it.
I am standing where all the greats of District 2 stood before me, and I must put the thought of anything Hadley and I might have shared before this moment to the back of my mind. My race for that crown begins now.
The train is lushly decorated, with red velvet curtains and a giant oak table laden with bread and crackers and every kind of fruit imaginable. Some of them are completely unfamiliar, things I have never even laid eyes on. Here on this train, it is easy to forget how much wealthier 2 is than most of the other Districts – not even the richest citizen in 2 could afford the kind of luxury depicted in the carriage.
"Huh-hum." The distinct sound of somebody clearing their throat for effect breaks the silence. In the far corner, two people are lounged across a set of black leather couches. One is the giant form of Brutus Caines, a hulk of a man in his mid-forties, known for his obscene strength. I barely even notice the second until she kicks her legs off the arm of a loveseat and swivels to face us.
She is dressed in black from head to toe – an elegant pantsuit capped with a pair of spiked stilettos – and her curtain of raven hair is pulled back from her pale face in a slick ponytail. A single dark, almond-shaped eye sparkles like a beacon, the other covered with a patch - black, to match the rest of her ensemble – and intricate, bright red lines form the shape of a curved dagger, tattooed from temple to jaw.
The sight of her on the train shatters all the hopes I had of making a friend in Enobaria Hart. Her encouragement in the shop, her willingness to put up with my childish whims. But she will not be the one to guide me through the arena. All of a sudden I'm not even sure whether the razor-sharp grin she gave me on the stage was simply a figment of my imagination.
"So, Clove Kentwell." Says Sidonia Reyes, unfolding herself from the couch to approach me. I always expected her to be a tall woman, but there's only an inch or so between us, and Hadley towers over her as much as he does me, even with both of us in heels. She holds out a hand, which I shake firmly, earning a wicked smile.
"And Cato Hadley." She directs over my shoulder to the boy standing behind me. She scoffs and pulls out the nearest chair, falling into it with the kind of effortless grace even my mother would struggle to accomplish. "I thought Darius would have stopped sacrificing his offspring by now but alas, here we go aga-"
"Reyes." Brutus appears beside her, far quicker than I would have expected the bulky man to be able to move. His tone is black, his eyes dark and cold. The look on his face tells me he wishes Sidonia Reyes would have been in his Games with him, so he'd have had the chance to kill her.
It's clear the two don't see eye to eye. Brutus has been a friend of the Hadley family for years, and Darius especially. The two of them knocking back liquor together in the District 2's only alehouse is a common sight. And the man clearly doesn't react well to someone chastising his best friend's choices.
I risk a glance back at Hadley, but he's staring off into space, completely oblivious to the argument breaking out over the table. I'm not sure if he's intentionally zoning out or not. The golden boy, normally so charismatic and talkative, might as well be a statue for all the input he has made so far today.
When an uneasy silence finally settles over the warring mentors, Tallulah breaks it with an offer of coffee, which Hadley and I surprisingly both jump at. A couple of plainly dressed Capitol servants, mute former traitors to the government known as Avoxes, bring us a gleaming silver pot of brew which tastes like dark chocolate and berries. It's definitely the best coffee I've ever tasted, and Tallulah has to stop me from downing a third cup before I start bouncing off the walls.
And all the while, Cato Hadley stares into the distance, the bright purple bruise blooming on his cheek, looking like he has just seen a ghost.
AUTHOR'S NOTE -
Okay so I don't love this one as much as my earlier chapters. I've always found the Justice Building goodbye scenes super hard to write because emotion is difficult to not make cringey and also we don't wanna cry because we're good, model Careers in this household. I also know people wanted me to have Enobaria as the mentor in this one and she is still going to be a big part of this series (yep this is a series now lads), but I came up with this alternative to Crystalline and I love her. Sidonia Reyes is the ultimate Asian bisexual badass bitch and I cannot wait for her to cause twenty million fights with her offhand comments. You have been warned. But the reasoning behind Sidonia being there will make sense in a couple of chapters time. Anyway, hope you're enjoy this resurrection of Clato because I'm having so much fun. Writing these chapters is now my daily task to keep away my lockdown anxiety :') Much love as always - Vee xx