Here's another chapter!

I stare at the dress on my bed. It is dark gray color with a deep scope neck and short sleeves. It's clingy and short, and I can't look at it without thinking of mom. I can almost picture her long dark auburn hair and black eyes, the sprinkle of elegant freckles across her face, her large smiling lips...

"Clove darling, come here," called a gorgeous lady in a tinkling voice. The small, dark haired, sullen faced girl, stalked over to her, arms crossed. The lady laughed at Clove's pout, enveloping her child in a hug.

"Mom!" growled Clove, pulling away. Her mother just laughed again, pulling Clove's nose.

"I'm going to a party to night, baby," she whispered mysteriously, getting up and applying dark red lipstick to her full lips. "How do I look?" She shimmied her hips, the brand new gray dress fitting her curves perfectly.

"Wonderful," Clove muttered, glancing self consciously at her dirt caked fingernails. She quickly clasped her hands behind her back.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" asked her mother, her brow wrinkling. Clove sighed, letting a small amount of wonder flicker across her face.

"You're so beautiful," the small girl said, "and I'm not..."

"Oh, that's no true! Look at these beautiful dark curls!" exclaimed her mother, running a loving hand through Clove's snarled hair, "And your big brown eyes!" Clove glanced at her self in her mother's mirror, momentarily seeing the pretty little girl her mother thought she was.

"Ellen!" called a rough voice. Clove winced, scrambling for the door as her father's heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. The tiny girl pushed her self behind the great stone clock, heart pounding.

Her father stopped on the landing, his eyes greedily taking in Ellen. She smiled a seducing smile, and he crossed the room quickly, his eyes fixed on hers.

"You look great Ellen," he said, his arms circling her waist, drawing her close. Clove pressed her self further behind the clock, averting her eyes from her parents. She never understood why her perfect, beautiful, mother stayed with her father, a drunk and vicious example of a Hunger Games winner.

Clove peeked out from behind the clock, only to shoot back in when she saw her parents kissing. Slowly she crept into her room on all fours. After a few moments Ellen's soft voice carried over to her.

"Have a good night Clove!" The front door slammed and Clove was alone again...

I still don't understand why Ellen Sumber would every marry my father. I suppose it was for the money, mother always cared a great deal about money. Mother had always been everything I wasn't, pretty, popular, and sociable.

When I was little I always admired her, while still resenting her for being so perfect. Now I stare at the dress she wore the day she died. The day she and father left for a party, and he returned alone. The day father lost whatever grasp on whatever sanity he had left. They say it was the alcohol. Ellen always liked to drink. But I never thought she would have so much that... Angrily I ball up the dress, shoving it under my bed.

"You should wear that. It's pretty," said a deep voice softly. This time I'm not surprised, only glad I'm wearing my night gown, not a bath robe.

"Do you have an obsession with breaking into my house?" I mutter, slowly turning around to meet Cato's gaze. He's dressed nice, wearing a light blue tux with his blonde hair washed and combed. Of course. Today's the reaping.

"The door was open," he says easily, because Cato is never wrong. Of course it was. Dad probably left it open last night when he was drunk. That's a given anyways. Cato cocks as eyebrow. "Really, you should wear that."

"Why, because it's the only thing that will make me look even slightly good?" I snap, not sure why I'm in a bad mood.

"I never said that," Cato says, sounding put off. I know I've been unfair, so I silently pull the dress out and step into my bathroom, changing quickly. When the mirror catches my eye, I can't help realizing how different from my mother I look in this.

Ellen looked sexy and bright, turning the plain gray into a mysterious color, and making the dress seem too small at all the right parts. I make the dress look sullen and dark, although for the first time in a while, I like how I look in a dress.

"Told you," Cato says, pushing his way in. I'm about to spit out a sharp retort about my privacy when his hands brush the back of my neck as he pushes back my dark hair. I shiver involuntarily, and for a moment, we are both silent.

"Reaping today," he murmurs, the tips of his fingers still hovering at my neck.

"Yeah," I sigh, and my shock from yesterday sweeps back. Cato and are going to the Hunger Games. Together. And only one person is leaving.

"You know, we don't both have to go," Cato says, pulling back.

"You won't go?" I say, eyebrows raised in his direction. He runs his hands through his hair.

"Clove, you know I can't do that. But you could stay..." he growls and bit angrily. I spin around so that I'm facing him, my hands on my hips.

"You know that I can't either, Cato! There might not be a next year!" I shout, my fists curling. He glares at me.

"I can't stay behind! Everyone expects me to win!" Cato snarls.

"Yes, and if you win, I die," I say viciously, my fist surging forward. He catches it deftly, pulling me towards him. Before I can protest his hands are around my waist and my arms are pinned to my side, my face on his chest.

"That's why I want you to stay," he murmurs, and suddenly his lips are on mine, and he's kissing me softly. To my surprise I find my lips moving with his, because I like the light fluttery feeling in my stomach when he touches me.

What are you doing Clove?

...

You're such an idiot, he doesn't like you. He's going be your enemy in the games.

I break away from him, gasping for air. His arms tighten around me, supporting me as I stagger. Cato leans forward for another kiss and I struggle back. His lips graze mine, but his arms loosen and I fall back against the sink.

"I can't do this," I whisper. He stares at me for a moment, before spinning around and stalking angrily out of the bathroom. I stand petrified until I hear his loud footsteps clunk downstairs, and the door slam.

My heart pounding I shakily exit the bathroom, pulling on my soft blue slippers. Softly I pad down the stairs trying not to wake my father. You're so stupid. He's just playing with you.

You're the mouse, Clove.

"Who was that?" grunts a loud voice. I groan inwardly as my father staggers into the room, red faced and brutish.

"Cato," I say carefully. My father admires Cato. Cato is the son my father never had. He stares at me for a moment, probably wondering why the hell Cato had been in the house. Finally he just grunts again. Either the alcohol from last night hasn't faded, or he's already starting drinking this morning.

"I heard you'vvvvve got chosen for the reeeeaping," he slurred, changing the subject. Yeah, he's definitely drunk.

"I did," I answer, for a moment wondering if he might be proud of me. He looks at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. That was clearly too much to hope.

"They- they chose yooooou?" he snorts, lumbering away. To my surprise my face is burning, and I hurry outside. The day is rainy like yesterday, and I turn my face to the heavens, letting the droplets cascade down on to me.

"Clove?" someone says softly. I spin around, expecting Cato, but instead it's that girl from yesterday, Blossom, I think. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, and she looks absolutely perfect her her plain white dress. The sleeves hang down to her elbows, and the dress bunches up at her chest, flowing out to her knees.

For a moment, I envy her but then I remember that I'm going to the games, not her. Isn't that what you want, Clove?

"Yes?" I say softly, because honestly I have no energy for being snarky right now. Blossom smiles slightly, pushing back a red curl.

"Good luck," she says seriously, her blazing green eyes meeting mine. I'm astonished at her kindness. Absently I think back to yesterday, and wonder if my life would be totally different if I acted like that all the time.

"Thanks," I smile, because I think I may have a friend. She pulls a dark red drawstring off her shoulder and rummages through it. Finally her face lights up a bit and she pulls out a tiny cloth object. Silently, she hands it to me and I study it curiously.

It's a tiny cat, crudely sewn with some light brown fabric. A tiny black bead is where its nose should be, and two tiny green eyes sparkle on its face. I gently touch its floppy whiskers, and notice a faint smell coming from it. Lifting it to my face, I inhale deeply.

The scent immediately triggers memories I have buried deep inside of me. The tiny cat is stuffed with clove. Fighting back tears I remember the apple pies my mother used to make, rich with the scent of clove, the mouth watering pork chops glistening with the spice I am named after.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, reluctantly giving it back to her. To my surprise her soft white fingers envelope mine, closing my hand around the cat.

"Keep it. My mother made it for me when I was little. It's a good luck charm," Blossom says kindly, her dark eyes studying me. I've gotten good at hiding my feelings over the years, but today I let a little bit of emotion escape.

"Thank you so much," I choke, delicately placing the small cat in the pocket on my dress. She smiles sadly, and then sweeps off towards the town square, where the reaping will take place. I stand frozen, wondering why she is acting like this.

Like I'm a human.

Like I'm not a monster...

...

Deep breaths, Clove.

Hardening my face, I walk down main street, heading towards the town square. Everyone's cheery, walking towards the reaping. Little boys and girls tug on their mother's dresses, asking why they can't get reaped yet.

Young kids dash down the street, laughing as they search the masses for the winners of the competition. District Two's pride. Cato and I. I walk swiftly with my head bowed, wishing I had stuck with the same silk shirt and dark pants from last year.

I feel naked in this dress.

A high tinkling laugh reaches my ears and I sigh as Ivy, Cato, and the others catch up with me, crowing and giggling like ridiculous kids. A warm hand clamps down on my shoulder and pulls me back. Instantly I tense, expecting Cato. It's Leif.

"Hey winner," he grins, his fingers carelessly tracing my chin as he turns it up towards him. I flinch back, but his grasp is strong, and I'm pinned by the arm around my shoulder. I search the the crowd, and find Cato clutching Ivy in a similar position, only she isn't resisting.

See, Clove? He didn't mean what he did. He's already moved on.

But I still feel a sharp pain splintering my heart. Anger rushes to my head and I relax in Leif's arms as we walk, laughing at every pointless thing he says, like Ivy. I feel Cato's gaze on me and I risk a look at him.

He's looking at me in disbelief, as if it was me who did something wrong. I whip my head around, giggling, and risk a soft kiss on Leif's cheek. He seems shocked, because he freezes, but a few painful seconds later he grins dopily at me.

Leaning down he kisses me. On the lips. It's different then Cato's kiss, more confident and probing, and for a second I'm frozen in his arms. Remembering my senses I open my mouth, kissing him back furiously. When Leif finally leans back, I realize that everyone's watching us.

"You guys done yet?" asks Shana sarcastically, pulling her blonde hair away from her face. I redden, and pull away from Leif. He lets go, but grabs my hand, squeezing it. I wonder if he thinks I really like him. Cato is staring angrily at me, his fists clenching.

"Oh don't bother them. It was sweet," drawls Ivy, her hands resting on Cato's arms. Oh course she doesn't care. Less competition for Cato. I bet she hopes I die. After a moment everyone continues walking, and I fall to the back of the group.

A rough hand grabs my arm, twisting it painfully. My instincts kick in and my foot jabs out, kicking my attacker painfully in the chest. The grip loosens, and I turn around. Cato straightens up, tightening his grip agin.

"What the hell was that about?" he snarls, shoving me away from him. I force the hot tears of pain to not fall, and rub my arm gingerly.

"I don't understand Cato," I snap, glaring at him.

Could he be jealous?

Don't be stupid. He's not jealous, he just has a big ego.

"I don't understand!" he growls back at me, his blonde hair messy. We enter the main square and are herded into a long line. At the end of the line a capital lady pricks our fingers, identifying us.

"What is preventing you from processing the events? Leif kissed me. Is that so hard to understand?" I say coldly, pushing aside some kids who have stopped. Apparently they have spotted the finger pricker.

"I didn't think you liked Leif!" Cato yells, his eyes shooting daggers at me. I swallow, because I'm a bad lier.

"What makes you think you know everything about me?" I saw quietly. His mouth opens, and then closes. I stare at him for a second, and then hold me finger out. A tall lady dressed in a white uniform slices it and I watch my blood fall onto a sheet of clear paper. Something in her hand buzzes, and I can make out 'Sumber, Clove' printed in green letters on the device in her hand.

She waves me off, and I walk towards the sixteen year old girls section without looking back at Cato. As I take my place I receive some stares, and whispers spread through the crowd like a fire. I glance at the boys side, and find Cato staring at me.

I turn away quickly, facing the stage in front of us. The main square fills up quickly and soon there is barely room to breath. I am jostled up against the two girls on my sides. They glare at me, pulling away simultaneously. My fingers work their way into the pocket in my dress and I rub my thumb against the cat.

My familiar fear of loud crowds and tight spaces kicks in, and I gasp a little, my hand squeezing the cat tighter. There is no Cato here to help me now. Calm down Clove. Breath.

Soon enough the Mayer calls for silence and I sigh with relief as the square falls quiet. The Mayer, a big beefy man called Slate Garder, clears his throat, staring sullenly at the lot of us.

"May I introduce Seed Lark," mutters Mr. Garder, gesturing to our escort, Seed. Seed is an impossibly tall man, who looks rather stretched out with his long eye sockets and nose. His lips are plastered into a fake, permanent smile, and his face is powdered white. At least he has the sense to wear a tux, not some silly capital clothing article.

"Welcome to the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. We all hope that the odds are in you're favor," Seed says brightly, grinning at all of us. Slightly repulsed, I lower my gaze. Sometimes I wonder if what the capital means by that saying is that they hope we get chosen. It means quite the opposite for the rest of the Districts.

District Two doesn't pretend the games are some god given gift like the capital, nor do we find it entertaining. We cry with just as much grief as the rest of the Districts if one of our tributes die. But the thing is, we've excepted the fact that the games can't be avoided. Better to be prepared, and try to bring some pride to our District.

"The capital used to be a place called..." Seed slide into an entire speech about our history as usual. He spoke passionately about the uprising saying that the games were, "the event that brings us all together." I stare at the ground, my mind wandering. What will this year's arena be? Who will be the tributes I have to face?

"And now, we will pick the names," Seed calls out, breaking into my thoughts. My eyes snap up. Focus Clove. What do you want to come off as? Vicious Career tribute? Mysterious? But I don't have time to think because Seed's long pale fingers slip into the big glass bubble labeled 'girls.'

Carefully, he pulls out a slip of paper and unfolds it painstakingly, his mutated violet eyes scanning it slowly. Expressionlessly, he lifts his head. Just spit it out! Who is it?

"Blossom Silver," he says coldly, eyes scanning the crowd. Everyone is looking at Blossom and she looks a bit shocked. Does she wish she actually will get to go? When Seed's eyes find Blossom, he immediately searches the crowd for a volunteer.

The capital turns a blind eye to our training, but even Seed knows that Blossom can't be possibly the winner of the competition. He is waiting for a volunteer. Me. I realize I'm just standing there. Now everyone's looking at me, because I'm suppose to volunteer.

This is what you want Clove!

Seed's eyes find mine, and he cocks an eyebrow. He's waiting. Blossom is looking at me too, and her eyes are terrified. She doesn't want to go. I realize this with a start. Clearing my throat quietly, I step forward.

"I volunteer," I say coolly, brushing past the peacekeepers. I mount the stage surveying the crowd. Perfect Clove. I search the crowd, and find Cato staring at me. His mouth is tight, and he looks tense, but his expression is unreadable. I glance at Blossom, and she looks white.

She's terrified.

For who, I have no idea. My father's ruddy face stands out in the roped off area for underage or overage people. He's laughing quietly, bumping elbows with a friend. He's not even paying attention. He pushed me to achieve this my whole life! Now he's not even watching!

"For the boys," announces Seed, dipping his hand into the other jar. His hand closes around a slip of paper and he pulls it out. Unfolding it, he clears his throat.

"Nitch Par-" he doesn't even finish before Cato is pushing out of the crowd.

"I volunteer," calls Cato, grinning. He strides onto the stage, his footsteps echoing through the silent square. Seed doesn't look surprised, he must be used to the huge boys that volunteer from District Two.

I ignore the fact that I'm inches away from Cato, and glare into the cameras. Because this is when the show starts. Right now, right here. I've prepared my whole life, and I can't blow it. Seed asks Cato and I to shake hands, and we face each other.

Cato carelessly grabs my hand, and shakes it, a long and firm shake that makes me want to melt. But I can't, not now. I can't trust Cato Farner anymore, and he can't trust me either.

Because the seventy-fourth Hunger Games have begun...

Thanks again for the reviews I received!

Molly of the Chazin clan- glad you think it's epic!

Spiderman- thank you the long review, I really appreciated it! :) I'll try to increase the dialogue, but this is the beginning, so I'm explaining a lot of things. I'm very glad you liked my story! :)

Squeaky-monkey- thank you for both your reviews! :) Yes, Blossom is kind of a bigger part, but Clove won't see her now that she's off to the games. What do you think about Cato and Clove? Will they fall in love? XD You'll see.

Guest- thank you for the great review. I love when people point out the scenes they liked in my story, not the scenes they didn't like. Hopefully you will enjoy this chapter as well!

Thanks so much! Sorry I couldn't update faster. What do you guys think about Cato?

Till next time!

-Madi