Secrets

Chapter Eight

The academy looks different when you're allowed inside. However, I still tend to glance around my surroundings. Always feeling like someone is stalking. Waiting for their chance to catch me doing something I'm not supposed to be doing. Walking with Cato is strange too. The moments I do glance around, I notice looks of others staring at me in disbelief. I already know what they're thinking, but for all the wrong reasons.

"This is her," Cato interrupts my thoughts by pushing me towards a tall bearded man in an all-black outfit.

The man looks me up and down slowly, crossing his arms, "I'm under the impression that you are quite skilled with a knife?"

I just shrug.

"She is," Cato answers for me, shooting me a look.

"I am," I smirk at the blonde boy who rolls his eyes.

"So what are you waiting for? Show me." The bearded man then motions us to follow him. Once we are over there he picks up a knife and launches it into a nearby target. It hits the abdomen, "I used to be a lot better."

"Sure." I glance at him then step up to the familiar white line.

When I pick up a knife I notice how clammy my hands are. My normal routine interrupted by hundreds of eyes and strangers. Cato's words creep into my mind after my first throw only goes into the abdomen, "If you can't throw with me watching, how do you expect to do it when the whole world is watching?"

The trainer scoffs, turning his back to me, "I thought you said she was good, Rauls."

Right off the back, I've made myself look like a fool. Cato's eyes, watch me carefully as I turn to face them, looking at the trainer who's shaking his head. I quickly reach for another knife and look back at the target. This time I don't think, I just throw, and it strikes the dummies skull. The thump echoes through my ears and I can't help but smirk when the trainer's feet halt to a stop.

As I reach for another one, I feel more eyes on me. When the knife strikes the heart, I throw the second one. Then another and another, until my shoulder becomes sore and half the knives are lodged into a target. Not a single one missed this time.

For a moment, no one says anything when I look at them.

"Who are you?" The bearded man asks eyes still on the targets.

"Clove Rivers."

"Well, Clove," he walks towards me, "you keep throwing like that I can promise you, you will have a victory in the games. But.."

"But?" I lean forward in my shoes.

"Is this your only weapon?"

The question makes my stomach turn because it is, and one weapon isn't a huge advantage if you're wanting to volunteer for the games.

Finally, I answer, "Yes."

When the man's nose twitches I look down.

Embarrassed is an understatement. I'm furious. Furious that I've been caged by my parents and never explored more than knives. I never expected to stand in the academy, in front of a trainer, and be looked down upon. Until now, I have always seen myself as superior. Talented, above average, prepared for the games. But the sound of arrows going to targets and the clink of metal swords has diminished all those thoughts. Right now, I have become just like everyone else. A trainee, another face in the crowd. Another wanna-be victor.

"You're prodigious with knives, that much is true," the man assures, but there's a slight tone in his voice that hints doubt. "Probably one of the best throwers I have seen in a long time."

This time it's Cato's turn to look down. His stance shifts and he tightens his crossed arms, blunt frustration on his face when his eyes meet mine.

"Thank you," I nod at the trainer.

"Don't thank me until you can prove you're then just knives."

"Sir," Cato interrupts and the man looks at him, "She's only here today because I allowed her to tag along. The key card I let her use is only good for a day." Cato's voice is quick and nervous sounding.

"No problem," the trainer looks back at me, "I will give you your own keycard that will allow you to come train whenever you'd like."

I hide a smirk when Cato's nostrils flare. He probably didn't expect that after trying so hard to get me to go.

"By the way," the trainer adds, "my name is Lux. I'm the head trainer here. So, if you ever need anything I am the person you come to."

I nod.

"Now, keep practising. Maybe Cato can show you some swords or spears." Lux glances at the tall angered boy then walks off.

I face Cato now, his eyes glued to mine, "Where to, Blondie?"

Cato steps closer to me, shoving his finger into my chest, "Don't think I won't put another bruise on that jaw of yours, Rivers."

"Woah, why the hostility?" I taunt and his eyes narrow.

"I'm serious, Clove."

"Are you mad that your whole plan of helping me out has backfired and now your jealousy has gotten the best of you?"

"It was a mistake bringing you here," Cato growls, shoving me as he steps aside.

"Because I've outshone you?"

He doesn't respond, just keeps walking with me hot on his heels. As we walk, I notice he's headed towards the swords and my assumption is correct as he picks up a beautiful long piece of metal. It looks heavy; I can tell by the flex in his arm muscle that he's holding tightly. I stagger backwards when the tip of the sword is brought to my neck.

"Jesus, Cato." I hiss, "What the fuck?"

"You are nothing here. Nothing with other people in here. At night, when you're alone, you may feel invincible, but here you are not. Do you understand?"

I feel paralyzed as I wearily nod at him. His entire demeanour has gone rogue as he towers over me. Then with a swift motion, he brings his arm around to slice off a dummies head. I jump at the sound it makes, louder than any other weapon in the room. He continues his moves, eagerly shoving his blade across necks of dummies and slicing arms off like the dummy was made of Jello. The final blow goes straight through the dummies stomach, the sliver taunting me as Cato turns to face me.

A new emotion floods through me. Something I was certain I wouldn't feel until the arena, but it's come early.

Fear.     

"Nothing." Cato says breathless, "You are nothing."