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

Chapter 49

CATO’S POV

This is it. It’s time to face the walk of shame all the way back home.

In all seriousness, it’s not exactly a walk of shame. I just choose to look at it that way because I’m going to look like an embarrassment in front of all the passersby—going home at the end of the day in the middle of the cold season with wet clothes on. There are dumber things in this world, but there aren’t many things that surpass self-inflicted frostbite on the stupidity scale, especially for career tributes.

To tell the truth, I’d probably be shaking my head if Clove did to me what I did to her Father earlier today. I’d probably react the same way he did–distastefully and disdainfully, because embarrassment is inevitable for the culprit, no matter what the situation is.

I guess it’s only possible to walk away from obligation so many times before it starts to overwhelm and eat its victims alive. I don’t intend to be its next meal.

Anyways, now’s not the time to freeze out here—I’m going home.

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Getting back home proves more difficult that I thought it would.

I must’ve lost sensation in my limbs from being cold long enough for my fingers to nearly turn purple. I don’t even feel my foot hitting the ground each time I take a step—it almost feels like walking on air, because I can’t even feel gravity pulling on my own body weight.

As I reach the front door at home and try to open it, it doesn’t budge. It only opens after I put my back into it—which proves itself as an unbelievably difficult task, since I’m still mostly numb.

At last. Home sweet home.

It’s kind of ironic because I didn’t really go anywhere to begin with, but it’s still not as good as returning from the Arena. I’ve yet to find something that can surpass the sensation of being bathed in the endless riches of the Capitol.

I make a beeline for the fireplace in the living room and turn it up to full power with the remote control. I don’t even bother to pull up a chair, because I need to take all of these wet clothes off to dry so I can soak up as much of the heat as possible.

Modesty? Forget about it. My parents don’t live with me anymore. I don’t have anything to lose.

Before I can throw off my underwear, I notice that I left the kitchen light turned on. I also happen to notice a shadow of someone sitting at the table.

I barely get enough time to throw my pants back on before I realize that someone’s in there without my permission. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m going to complain about the lack of security in this area if the district doesn’t do something about the number of unwanted guests that have entered this residence in the last 24 hours.

Sure enough, Favian Engstrom steps into the room and stares me down like a raging bull eyeing a red handkerchief. I can almost see the steam emitting from his nostrils.

I guess I should’ve seen that one coming. He said he was going to be here when I returned, and he was right. I guess I really need to start paying attention to what other people say, because something bad happens to me every time I miss even the smallest details in pointless conversations.

“Welcome back, son,” Favian reprimands me, crossing his arms and shooting me one of the most accusatory looks I’ve ever seen.

“What’s the matter with you?!?” I begin ranting. “Can’t I get some privacy around here?”

“I’ve already told you what you need to do,” he insists adamantly, slowly advancing toward me. “You can’t hide from this situation. If you were smart enough not to come back here after I told you what to do earlier, I wouldn’t have stuck around for as long as I did.”