The Hunger Games: Entropy (A Clato Fanfiction: NTI Series, Book 2)

Chapter 41

CATO’S POV

The sun set beyond the horizon a few hours ago.

I haven’t left the area since Clove cussed me out and left me alone with the emptiness of the common area in this car. I haven’t seen anyone else pass by me since then. They probably heard everything that we said to each other and just not to make things worse by getting involved. Besides, it’s probably for the better that no one else besides Enobaria accidentally became part of a three-way fight. I would have shoved Brutus away if he cut me off in the middle of talking.

Then again, it doesn’t really matter anyway. He’s a loser anyway because he’s only trying to save his own skin—he doesn’t care. None of the other victors have to care about us. It’s only about tradition and honor for them.

Since we got home from the Games, all Clove and I have ever done is fight, make up, and repeat. I’m beginning to wonder why we even try to make up in the first place—probably because both of us got out of the arena alive through some fluke. There’s always a chance that we both lived for a good reason, but I don’t think it’s true anymore.

I’m going to sleep. There’s nothing else to do in the mean time. Clove deserves every ounce of verbal punishment that she got from me. She had no good reason to delay our appearance earlier today and none of know when her short fuse will ignite again.

I’m not even sure that I care anymore. Working with Clove feels like playing hot potato with white-hot iron ingot: it’s just not possible and no one even wants to try.

**********

The morning sun rises.

I don’t even feel like staying in bed anymore. Even though I don’t care about having to follow a schedule, I’d rather just get up now. There’s no need to stay in bed all day if I don’t feel tired.

Just like the last few days, I decide to do some of my own grooming before meeting with Othea. I know that she’ll stick her nose up in the air and tell me that I need to fix up my face with some foundation, but I couldn’t really care less. She’ll just apply it to my face anyway and it won’t really matter. I don’t even like that stuff. It’s sticky and disgusting.

I’m not even going to bother with changing into something fresh this morning. Othea will have a whole wardrobe of prepared outfits that smell unusually sugary and sweet for the purpose of today’s activities, so why bother? I can just change later.

As I open the door to my room and enter the hallway, I notice an empty breakfast table awaiting me in the common area. As unusual as it is to be the first one awake, I don’t really care. I need to get these troubling thoughts out of my head. Besides, we have an appearance to make today. There’s no reason for anything to go wrong. Yesterday’s drama shouldn’t have any effect on the present.

I manage to consume a stack of pancakes and two pieces of sausage when Brutus arrives and takes his position at the opposite end of the table, disrupting the peaceful ambiance of being able to eat without any distractions.

It was good while it lasted, but I’m not entirely sure that getting there before Cleo does is really a good thing. If she doesn't have her head screwed on straight, then who's to say that the rest of us do?

Brutus doesn’t even bother to say hello or try to acknowledge me; he just minds his own business and focuses only on the plate in front of him. I don’t really care, considering what happened between us yesterday. I find nothing wrong with the fact that I don’t care about him anymore either, now that the separation of power between us has somewhat diminished. 

I sit through the remainder of the meal in an uncomfortable silence, distancing myself from the shroud of imaginary shadows that separates me from my mentor. He clearly has no intention of making any sort of contact with me, so I decide to mind my own business for the remainder of the time.