I can still do this

chapter 12

At least, it's supposed to just be a second, but then it turns into this half-asleep state where I'm sort of aware of what's going on but mostly asleep. There's no telling how long it lasts; time gets kind of elastic and weird. For a second, I almost believe that I'm at home, in the woods, and that the sleeping guy next to me is Gale, dependable and safe.

A small sound wakes me up, something that I can't describe or even consciously remember, but it makes me open my eyes and look around. Instantly, I see her; Cato's sharp-toothed mentor with a look in her eyes that makes me jumpy. She's by the door, so it seems I caught her coming in. "Impressive," she comments. "You're up right away."

"Impressive?" I frown suspiciously.

"Your hearing. It's really quite extraordinary. Reconstructed ear there?"

I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not, so I keep to simple answers. "Yep. Can I help you?" I ask, trying to be polite and hostile at the same time.

She doesn't answer. "And look at that one," she says disgustedly, looking at Cato. She's sneering, and her teeth glint gold. "Sleeping like a baby. Pathetic. You make quite the pair, don't you."

"And why is that?" I narrow my eyes.

"The little girl who kissed her way to victory and the utter failure from district two." She shakes her head pityingly. "He should've died. And you're just a fluke."

"We'll keep that in mind on the Victor's Tour," I snap back, unable to restrain myself any longer. The combination of terrible things she's saying and the nonchalant way she's saying them is infuriating.

That stops her for a second, but just a second. "See you there," she says, saccharine-sweet, and now I'm the one lost for words. "That kiss real?"

"Shouldn't you know? Being his mentor and all."

She shrugs. "I couldn't care less, really. Curiosity knows no bounds, I guess." And then she flashes me a smile, exposing the points of her teeth. "Figures he'd crack under pressure, lose his motivation. He was too good to be true."

"He didn't crack," I say stiffly.

"Yeah? He went against his training, and that's cracked enough. We expect actual victors in two, not charity cases," she says, narrowing her eyes.

"Training? What, are there rules for how to win?" I ask.

She laughs – it sounds metallic. "Watch this." Briskly, she walks over to us, kneels over Cato, and puts her hand over his mouth. He completely changes, stiffening like he's been shocked, eyes flying open. He wrenches his hand out of mine, throws off Enobaria's, and he rolls to his feet, planting his feet in a fighting stance. For a second, he looks like the old Cato, the one who terrified me, and then he realizes where he is.

I watch him take in his surroundings, mentally slap himself, and drop his fists, unclenching them deliberately and holding all his fingers out straight for a second. "Why did you do that?" he asks, his tone tightly controlled.

"See?" Enobaria says to me, ignoring him. "He's completely programmed. You just cracked him for a few hours. Nothing that can't be fixed."

"I'm not programmed," he says fiercely. "C'mon, we're going." He holds his hand out to me. I take it and he pulls me up, wrapping his hand around mine fiercely, possessively.

But his mentor stops us, just by standing there. "I don't think so," she smirks. "Don't you want to spend some more time in bed together?"

"Go to hell," he mutters, and then he walks past her, squeezing my hand so tightly my fingers tingle with numbness. We hurry through that terrible, sterile apartment and into the elevator. Immediately, he jams his finger on the twelve, drops my hand, and crosses his arms. As we rise, he stands in the corner, as far from me as he can.