BORN TO DIE | CLATO (THG)

EIGHT

CLOVE KENTWELL

We reach the train station after what feels like hours. It's swarming with bright, flashing lights and countless cameras that are all aimed at Cato and I as Monique leads us out of the coach and onto the train bringing us to the Capitol. All I want is some peace and quiet alone after all the activity we had experienced so far. And thankfully, that's what I get.

As soon as we board the train and it speeds away from the station, I steal away to one of the compartments that's assigned to be my living space for the time being. I want to hurl myself into the bed and fall asleep almost immediately but that plan is botched as soon as I open the door.

In front of me, is the most beautiful room that I have ever laid my eyes on. It's about twice as huge as my room back at home, and an infinite times fancier. It's fully equipped with a dressing area, private bathroom, and dresser drawers spilling over with fine clothes and all kinds of high-tech gadgets and devices that would be impossible to find back at home.

I spend the rest of the afternoon just exploring before finally, Monique knocks on the door and collects me for dinner. I follow Monique out of my private chambers, down the hallway, and into the separate dining compartment. The second I catch a glimpse of the dinner table, my eyes widen.

The table is laden with a variety of dishes. Creamy, carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops, mashed potatoes, a tureen of fresh fruit, a frosted strawberry cake. My mouth waters and my stomach gives an impatient growl.

I'm well aware that I belong to one of the richest districts in the entirety of Panem, and yet I can't pretend that I hadn't grown up in the more impoverished part of the district, where my neighbours and I never got as much to eat as the rest of the population of Two.

As soon as I take a seat, I start stuffing myself like there's no tomorrow. I try to demonstrate some level of self-restraint, but it's almost impossible. I had never eaten food as delicious as whatever I was shoveling in my mouth now. Each dish brings tears to my eyes.

Plus, mealtimes here and at the Capitol will probably be my only opportunities to put on some weight before we go into the arena. The best thing I can do is to take advantage of that.

My eyes dart around the table as I eat. It's empty except for Cato, Monique and myself. I notice that there's one other unoccupied space. I force myself to swallow a particularly large lamb chop. I gesture to the empty seat. "Who is this reserved for?"

Monique beams at us. "I'm so glad you asked!" She chirps. She dramatically turns her head to the side and calls out in a singsong voice, "Enobaria!"

My jaw drops, and so does my fork, which clatters against my plate. Cato starts choking on his food, coughing and hacking loudly just as Enobaria Golding sweeps into the room. I watch, stunned as she takes her place in between Cato and I.

"Did we seriously have to make such a dramatic entrance, Monique?" Enobaria asks dryly.

She looks like an entirely different person. Her long, dark hair is free from its usual high ponytail down her back and tumbles loosely over her shoulders. Instead of the shimmering silver dress she had donned at today's Reaping, she was now wearing a loose pair of cotton pants and a plain blouse. Her face was wiped clean of any trace of makeup, making her appear younger than she actually is. Younger, and a lot more exhausted.

But she still manages to carry the aura of arrogance and self-assurance the public knows her to have. The aura of a victor.

Monique laughs good-naturedly. "Oh, but of course! You are a victor after all!" She thumps a choking Cato on the back a few times. "There, there. It would be such a shame if you died before the Games because of a lamb chop," She coos.