Melting Ice

Chapter 42

The interview goes on, and on, and on until basically my whole life story has been spilled out. Kayla's rumours were brought up, but I cleared them all up, every last bit, every whispers or word. The whole adopted scenario also made an appearance...that was harder to talk about. Not because it's a touchy subject, but because it's generally confusing.
As I lie in bed, I search through bad memories. Why? I do not know. Cato, Cato, Cato. The time I fell for Cato. It was a Monday and it was raining. I was slightly early for training, so I took my time fixing me braid. Two pins this side, three on the other. I added waterproof mascara and adjusted my lip gloss. He was already here, lifting some of the weights. We weren't supposed to use them without supervision. But, he was Cato and Cato always gets his way. Cato and I drifted away. But, that a story for another time.
I was the smallest girl here, they thought I was pathetic and weak. They all wondered how the hell I got into the academy. I was put in the careers group however, they saw some potential. That morning, I walked over to Cato, like I always did, and sat down on a bench.
"Morning", I would mumble and then pretend I was busy searching through my bag for something.
"Lost something?", he asked me a few seconds later. Yes, our friendship!
"I...um. No", I eventually say.
"You don't have to speak to me, I know we aren't as close as we used to be".
"No, no. I don't really have any friends", I blurt out.
"Well, I guess I'm your friend".
"Yeah", is all I manage to say.
I wake up to loud knocking on my door, which i grunt to and half politely ask to stop. No, it doesn't stop. Some wacko bursts into my door with too much makeup and unnatural skin colours. Blue face, red arm. Madness!
"Up, up, up!", he/she yells.
"Who are you?", I mumble sleepily.
"Your personal trainer, Delia!", she, I think and hope, announces, "You have 1 minute to get your ugly ass to breakfast".
"Excuse me?".
"You heard me sugarlump". Trying to forget for fricking rude she was just then, I manage to drag myself out of bed and into the shower. At first, it's cold. Goosebumps form all along my body, causing me to instantly turn the knob upwards. This burns my skin like some acid water from hell. I turn it off completely; that's enough of that! My hair wraps up nicely into a towel turban as I pat myself dry with a white fluffy towel. Then, I search through my wardrobe for something decent to wear to training. Absolutely nothing.
I then notice something out of the corner of my eye; a pile of neatly pressed clothes on my already made bed. Wow, avoxs work fast! As I separate the pieces, I notice it's familiar look. Black and red, combat boots, leather pants...just like what I wore in training for the games. A note is placed on top:

Dear pathetic Clovey,
Your complete stupidness have me an idea! Who was going to run the last games? Who better to do it than me! Plurtarch is dead...sorry about that! Have a nice life!

Lots of hate,
Philippa Snow