"Cato." You say stretching casually trying to look like you do every other morning.

"Clove." He answers you just as calmly.

"Have you thought much about the reaping?" you ask and for some reason (or perhaps you don't really want to know the reason) you can't quite look at him.

"Only since I was eight." He chuckles softly.

You realize how stupid you sound. Of course he's thought about the reaping. After all, this is your year. You think back to when you were both eight years old (the only time you were every taller than him) and assigned to be a "Career Pair". At the time it seemed so exciting and it was fun having a best friend- you had someone to train with, someone to study with, and someone to talk to. You even roomed together. The deal was that when you were of age, you would fight (as a pair) against other of age tributes in your district to decide the best possible pair to enter the games. Nine years later you were both seventeen. That means competing against seventeen and eighteen year old Career Pairs to decide who would enter the arena. It's an honor.

So instead of saying what you really want to say, you mumble, "Forget it." And begin your workout with a few laps around the gym. By the time your muscles are beginning to warm up you start sprinting, and place hurdles in front of yourself, pretending that you aren't jumping over dead tributes- oh no. You're jumping over tree trunks in a forest. You're jumping over cacti in the desert. You're jumping over your feelings.

By the time you're panting you decide that's enough running for now.

"Hey, speed demon." The sound of Cato's voice makes you jump.

"Are you ready?" you ask, getting ready to get down to business.

"Abrupt much?" he asks, grabbing one of the swords that hang off of the training center's cold metal walls.

"You know me." You mutter, grabbing a knife from the pocket of your training jacket.

A stupid grin washes over his face. "Really Clove?"

"What?" You ask, flicking dirt off of the knife until you can see the plain girl's reflection staring back at you.

"A knife again?" He taunts.

"A sword again?" You ask, repeating his mocking tone.

"Switch with me." He grins.

"No way." You half smile back.

"Come on." He smiles and for a second you feel like you just got punched in the gut.

"Fine." You mutter. You switch weapons and head to opposite sides of the training center.

"Ladies and Gentleman." He half laughs imitating the capitol's accent.

"Let the 74th Annual Hunger Games begin!" You laugh.

And then you meet in the middle.