Clove

Chapter 3

We separated at the sign in, as I left to to stand with the fifteen year olds, and him the seventeens. Once in my spot, I searched for him in the crowd, and found him looking for me. When we made eye contact he made a half-smile. He was obviously more nervous than he let on.  

At exactly twelve o'clock the reaping began with the same boring video they show each year. The districts rebel, blah blah blah, the peace, the games, blah blah blah, over. Then out comes the reaping lady, who's name is Vidia. She wears the most ugly pink dress, which does not go well with her skin color, which has been dyed so many times its a yellow-green color. Her wig is bright blue, as well as her lipstick and eyeshadow. Her cheeks and talons of nails are dark purple. Sometimes I wonder if Capitol people TRY to look that bad. 

She gives her long speech, and several times loses focus and starts blabbering on about the Capitol. Finally, with a few reminders from the mayor, she gets down to business.  

"Let's start with the ladies." She strolls over to the bowl and swirls her hand over it like a candy claw machine. I expect her to call some other girl's name. My name is only in there four times. I'm ready to volunteer.  

But there's no use. 

"Clove Muller." 

People look down at me and expect me to flinch, but I cross my arms as I usually do when unimpressed and stride up to the stage. I show such confidence I didn't even know I had in me. I look at Cato in the crowd, and he gives me a single nod. 

The lady walks over to the boys bowl and repeats the process. 

"Pat Grumman." 

A puny, pale little ginger walks out, his face covered in pimples, he looks about thirteen. I could kill him in my sleep.  

Instantly Cato's voice is there saying, "I volunteer!" People look at him as Pat fades back into the crowd, relief on his pale face.  

Cato walks up to the stage and introduces himself as Cato Stone. We shake hands, which is nothing new for us, and head into the giant building. 

Right as I'm about to walk into the room of goodbyes, I flash back into the time when Trill left. My parents were so sad and so scared. But they hate me, and I can just wonder what they'll say to me.  

Pushing the guards out of the way I run back to Cato, and hug him tightly. "My dad..." 

"Don't worry, Clove. The guards will be nearby to take him away if he hurts you." 

I nod my head and walk into the room, the doors shutting behind me. It's time. 

My mom comes in first. She has no look of appreciation, or pride, no happiness to see me here, yet no gloom, either. 

She says one thing before walking back out the door: "you'd better win." 

Agitation spreads through my mind like a zombie virus at what my dad will do to me. Even my mother had no loving word, what will my father have in mind. 

As the guards bring him in, I give them a dreadful look, and instantly they take a step forward, ready to interfere.  

My father looks at me, I look away. He instantly comes up and grabs my jaw to make me look at him. He's clenching my mouth shut as well. 

"You are such a disappointment. You didn't even volunteer for these games, and you have that boy, what's his face, Cato, to protect you. You'll never make it out. But let me tell you, if you don't win this..." 

Fury rising up inside me, I protest, "if I don't win this? Then what?" My arms crossed now, "if I don't win, I'll be dead. Dead. Away from you, dad. Or should I even call you that?"