Sharp Tools

Chapter 2: Who is She?

Cato POV:

I lay curled up on the ground, the noise from the street waking me up. As I blink, trying to sit up, I spot a tall blond man making his way towards me. One glance at him makes me both internally groan but also sigh in relief. It's my father.

"CATO!" he yells.

"Hi Dad." I reply.

He roughly grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet. "C'mon, son. We're going home."

Without question, I follow him. "Where's Mom?"

"At home with your little sister," he grunts.

I nod. I have a one year old little sister named Cassie. She has the same blond hair and blue eyes  like the rest of us do. 

As Dad and I walk home, he gives me a side glance. "You're all dirty," he remarks.

I roll my eyes. No, duh. I want to say. That's what happens when you leave me outside for 6 days when it's raining and cold outside. But I keep my mouth shut. I already know what happens if I make a snarky remark.

Suddenly, we stop. "Where'd you get that jacket? And the umbrella?!" Dad angrily asks me.

I start to panic. I know he would be pissed if I told him someone helped me. He would track down the family, and get to discipline them without getting punished. And I really don't want Dallas's family to be on my dad's bad side.

With a straight face, I tell him, "I found it in the garbage."

My father looks at me with an unreadable face. I hold in a breath. Please, please, please, believe it. Please. 

He looks at me and nods. "I'm glad I put you out there. It'll teach you how to be stronger, Cato. You need to be able to withstand any pain in order to win the Hunger Games."

I stay quiet. I know it's my destiny to win the Games. It's all my father talks about. He won it when he was a kid, and so did his father. It's up to me to continue the tradition. 

"Cato, are you even listening to me!?" Dad yells, grabbing my neck.

"Yes, sir." I reply, my jaw clenched.

We arrive at our house, but Dad's strong hold on my neck stops me from entering. "Listen to me, son. You are destined to win these games when you turn 18. You will volunteer, you will win, and you will bring respect and glory to our family." A smile flicker's across my father's face. "You got that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now go inside, change, and go to kitchen to eat some food your mother made." Dad gives me a push towards our house.

I head up the front steps, hoping he doesn't mention Dallas's jacket and Carter's umbrella, but he does.

"And Cato," he starts, "you can throw away the jacket and umbrella. It's dirty and useless. You don't need it anymore."

I turn around, give him a firm nod, and walk inside. I quietly enter the house, hoping I could get to my room without Mom noticing. I almost make it to the stairs, but a cry from Cassie catches my mom's attention.

"Cat! Caty!" Cassie cries.

I see my mom's blond hair move and catch a pair of blue eyes staring at me.

"Cato!" she runs over and engulfs me in a big hug. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay!" Mom begins to check me for any injuries and bruises.

"Mom! I'm okay. Just a little hungry, though."

"Oh, okay. I have some food for you."

"Dad says I have to change first."

"Okay, I love you sweetheart. And I'm so glad you're okay. I told your father not to leave you out there for so long, but he didn't listen." Mom frowns.

"It's okay. I'm okay." I reassure her.

I walk upstairs towards my room. I quietly close the door and lock it. Even though Dad told me to throw away the jacket and umbrella, I can't. I can't just it away. Instead of doing what Dad told me to do, I store the wet umbrella in my bathroom shower and hang the jacket in the back corner of my closet. I just hope I can find some time where Dad isn't home to wash it. But probably not. With the 66th Hunger Games Reaping approaching, he's going to want the majority of my time at the Academy. Even if I'm not eligible for the Games yet. I wonder how old Dallas is. Does he train like I do? I've never seen him or his siblings around before. Again, I think of the girl with green eyes and I fiddle with the necklace. I'm never taking this off. She saved me. If she hadn't crossed that street, I would've been cold, starving, and absolutely miserable. She gave me the hope and kindness I needed.

"Cato," Mom calls, "your food is getting cold!"

"Coming Mom!" I yell back, changing my clothes before exiting my bedroom.

Clove POV:

It's been several days since our encounter with the blond boy, but my mind still lingers on him. We were all sitting at the table, eating dinner, when I feel six pairs of eyes on me. I look down at my plate and notice that compared everyone else's, it's untouched. I shrink back into my seat, pick up my spoon, and shove as much food as I can in my mouth. I finally catch up to everyone else, hoping to take the attention off of me, but that doesn't happen. 

"Clove," Mom says gingerly, "what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" I ask. "I'm almost done with my food."

"Do you have a fever?" Mom asks. "Oh no! Are you sick? I knew I should've made you wear another jacket" Mom rants as she races out of her chair and to my side. She grabs my head and places the back of her hand on my forehead.

Quickly, I push her off. "Mom!" I yell. "I'm fine. I've just been thinking."

"About what?" she frowns.

"Nothing important," I say quickly.

I feel her blue eyes narrow, but before she could say anything, her sister jumps in.

"Oh Amanda," Aunt Enny starts, "just leave the poor girl alone. She has a lot to think about with the Reaping coming up."

"But Clove isn't even going to be eligible," Mom protests.

Aunt Enny sighs. "Just let it go Mandy."

Mom frowns at me once more before returning back to her seat. Dinner continues as normal, but I can't help but feel the pressure on me as I catch quick glances and suspicious looks. Only my aunt treats me normally, as if nothing happened. Finally, I finish my food. 

I stand up. "May I be excused?" 

Dad nods, giving me a small smile.

I rise out of my chair, place my dishes in the sink, and head up to my room. 

Sighing, I lay in bed, thinking all about the blond-haired boy.

I feel myself drifting to sleep, but a knock on my bedroom door startles me.

It's my aunt. "Clove, are you okay? You were kind of quiet tonight."

"I'm just tired. Plus..." I trail off.

"What is it Clove? You know you can tell me anything."

I start to panic. I don't want to tell her that I was thinking of him. That's embarrassing. Then I think of something I know she'll understand. 

"Do you think I'll ever get reaped?" 

"Oh, Clove. You're too young."

"But what about the future. I still might."

She comes to my bed, sits down, and places me on her lap. Stroking my hair, she sighs.

"I'll promise you this Clove: If you ever get reaped, I'll help you. Okay C?" I nod.

"Okay E."

"Plus, I'll teach you how to throw knives." Aunt E whispers. "Just don't tell your mom."

I giggle as I cling to her arms and smile up at my hero.