Are The Odds In Our Favour?

Chapter 1

Cato's POV:
You never truly know a person until you've stepped in their shoes. Because at that moment when you've either forced your way in, distorting the original shape or loosely slipped them on, finding the impossible task to go about your daily business inevitable. That, is the moment you can finally understand them.

Upon gazing into the sharp mountainous background of District 2, I unclench my fist, flexing the muscles slowly until there was no visible signs of stress in them. If only I could do such a practice with voice as I found myself to continuously stumble over words like a dictionary with a bad case of influenza.

"I volunteer," the words shakily escape my lips, "I volunteer."

This is it. The day where it all changes. I will finally have my well-deserved moment to take centre stage, today I will show them who I am; a strong and ruthless killing machine.

The academy taught me that- I can not recall a time when I've ever stopped training in my life. Everyday, every week. Yearly; no breaks. But it payed off, I'm the best here I was made for these games now it is my chance to prove it.

I walk through the cobbled streets heading towards the main square, dressed in my smartest clothes my mother could dig up in my bare closet.

Joining the swarm of people who already arrived I head over to registration- which required a quick prick from the Capitols medical team, whilst they thoughtfully reminded us that we were meant to be cheery and be excited by saying: "fingers crossed you get picked, eh?"

"Welcome! Happy hunger games!" A high-pitched chirpy voice echoed throughout the square. I look up to see our escort Alana Kambelton.

With her signature mass of tightly curled blueberry blue hair adored by yellow bows carefully placed in the curls, her ghostly pale painted face that would have resembled a corpse if not for the matching blue lipstick and gold eyeshadow that was layered on. Her knee length dress had a shape that screamed for attention, using ridiculous ruffles and puffy sleeves it was extremely clear that like the rest of the Capitol fashion was important to her.

"OK! The exciting part!' Alana squealed after the annual clip about how Panem came to be, had ended. She started trotting over to the large circular fish bowls filled with many strips of paper. "As per usual, ladies first!" The blueberry impersonator announced, placing her hand in the bowl, snatching a slip in her long fingers, before walking back to the microphone, breathing lightly for added drama she glanced at it for a milli-second before saying.
"Clo-"

"I volunteer!" A voice cried out, my head snapped to see who said it, I recognise it as my best friend Clove's voice. She and I first met in our District's training academy, when I was approached by the scrawny young girl I all but laughed in her face, thinking what the hell was she doing in a place like this, it was when she arrogantly claimed she could beat me at the throwing knives and proved so. That is when we became acquaintances and the day I started to treat her with more respect.

"Ah lovely! What's your name dear?" Alana says with a massive smile spread across her face.

"Clove Rebela" she responds in a clipped tone.

"Hahaha..." Alana chuckles, "dear, you didn't need to volunteer, I pulled out your name." Alana laughs hysterically, as if the funniest thing she's heard. The rest of us pull small smiles.

Clove blushes slightly, a faint pink flushed in her cheeks. "No Clove, stay strong, don't show them you're a weakling." I mutter under my breath.

She throws her head up and flashes a sly smile. "Well, I didn't want anyone volunteering for me did I? And let them steal my fun."

"Oh ho ho, no. Of course not! Great enthusiasm!" Alana cheers. "Ok time for the male tribute." At this I start to mentally coach myself, I can do this. I will do this. Just two words.
"T-"