𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

FOUR

FOUR - 

This is not my year.

In the shocking turn of events I have forgotten all about my encounter in the Academy last night, the whispered conversations between the two in the corner as Loren and I left for home. All my sister's suspicions, discussed with giggles and blatant disregard over hair curlers, floated to the back of my mind the moment my name was called.

As Tallulah Frost asks the boy now standing beside me his name with a bright smile which suggests she doesn't really need to, everything comes flooding in to settle in my stomach. I feel like I'm about to vomit all over the stage. From the line at the back, Darius Hadley rises from his seat to trigger a second round of applause at his son's name. There is a glint in his cold blue eyes, inhuman and dangerous. I have never liked the man, however attractive his entire family have grown up to be, but today there is something different about him which sends a shiver down my spine.

"Cato Hadley." He says into Tallulah's microphone, followed by another bout of raucous cheers from the crowd below. The sound makes my insides roll and I have to steady myself on the mayor's lectern set up beside me.

I refuse to meet his stare until Tallulah beckons us forward. He is smiling, grinning actually but the gesture doesn't reach his eyes. They are devoid of any emotion at all.

"May I present Clove and Cato, your tributes to represent District 2 in the 74th annual Hunger Games." Our escort raises her arms to clap and the District follows in unison, the thousands of hands applauding, hoping that one of us will be the next to bring home the crown for 2.

When we shake hands, the golden boy is no longer smiling.

This is not my year.

° ° ° ° °

We are each allotted a room inside the Justice Building and a sufficient length of time to say goodbye to close friends and family, before the train arrives to take us away to the Capitol. I am corralled into a small parlour with brilliant white walls and stark black furniture, a pair of Peacekeepers stationed outside the door to bar any chance of escape. I settle into the pristine leather couch in the corner, picking at the hem of my blood red dress and trying not to panic.

I should have known he would volunteer. He practically said it so himself, last night in the Academy, and Loren's speculation was further evidence. But all thought of the Hadley boy disappeared as soon as my name was called from the stage.

This is meant to be his year. It was never meant to be mine, too.

I've managed to unravel one of the pretty appliqued patterns on my skirt by the time my first visitors are ushered inside by the Peacekeepers. Mother and father enter the room, and though both have tried their best to appear strong and proud, it's clear my mother has been crying. I will not give the viewers any reason to discount me from the running, so I quash the emotions building up in my chest with all the force I can muster when I go to hug them.

It does not matter that I am going into the arena with a Hadley. I still have a chance. He is not the only one who has been training for this since they were a child.