Just a Game

Chapter One

I was walking along the narrow dirt path. There were trees all around me. Unfortunately, they didn't provide much shade, as they were thin, and had very few leaves. I was sweating through my thin t-shirt. In the distance, I could see a large mountain. The Nut.

"Cato!"

I turn around and see a small girl. She was probably around 15 years old. I'm pretty sure that I had seen her around school, but I had no idea what her name was.

"Uh, hi?" I say slowly.

She raises an eyebrow. "Clove," she says, sticking out her hand.

I take it, and shake it. Right then, I knew that I had seen her before. Her dark hair was tied up in a ponytail. She was still wearing her school uniform.

"Ca- I mean, hey," I say, stopping myself before introducing myself to someone who already knew me. I could've kicked myself.

"You left your jacket in my brother's locker. He wanted me to give it back to you."

So she was Bernal's little sister.

"Thanks," I say, taking the jacket from her. My hand brushes hers, and I jerk my hand away. I look at Clove, and I see her quickly avert her eyes.

"I'll see you later then," she says nonchalantly despite her tense shoulders.

"Bye, Clove." I smile at her and continue my walk home.

**********

"Mom," I shout. "I'm home!"

"Hi, sweetie," my mom replies.

"Cato!" There is a small pink blur, and I am nearly knocked over.

I laugh after I regain my breath. "Hey, Comy."

Comyna was my little sister. She looked just like me; blonde hair, and light blue eyes. We even had the same nose. The difference was that she had a tendency to jump on me every day after school. My little sister was just 70 pounds of happiness.

"Guess what?" she asks, smiling. There was a big gap because she had lost her two front teeth.

"What?"

"Mommy says that we can go on a picnic today!"

A picnic? Our mom had never taken us on one.

"With daddy too!" she adds.

Okay, now something definitely was going on. Our dad was always busy working. Like, always. Why should he take a break now?

"Mom," I call out, walking into the kitchen.

She was preparing a snack for me and my sister. "Yes, Cato?"

"Comy just told me that we're going on a picnic today."

"Oh, yes. We haven't been on a family trip for a while."

"You mean never," I mutter.

If she heard me, she chose to ignore me. "After your training, we'll go out for dinner."

I don't know what to say, so I just nod and go to my room.

**********

One hour later, I have to go to my training. Every day since I was six years old, I practice for two hours with my trainer.

In the town, the buildings are all glass and steel. I finally get the longest building. The training centre.

"Ah, Cato," says my instructor, Emil.

Emil was only 24. He had also competed in the Hunger Games a few years back. Today, his long, black hair was tied in a short ponytail.

"Emil," I greet.

"Ready for training today?"

"As always."

He leads me into the familiar room full of mirrors and dummies. There's a rack of weapons on the back wall. As always, Emil sets up the dummies all around the room. He then tells me in which order I should "kill" them.

"Ready, set, go!" shouts Emil.

I slash and stab each dummy in the right order. I stab them in their foam chest, or slice off their heads. Easy. When I'm done, Emil claps.

"Not bad, but let's do something more difficult," he says, taking out a chest protector.

"You're gonna be my dummy?" I ask him.

He puts on a helmet. "Yes."

I shrug, and put on my armor as well. I hand Emil a sword, but he shakes his head.

"I'll be using a knife," he says, picking one up.

"What?"

"I'm better with a knife. It's the weapon I used to kill my last opponent."

"But I'm better with a longer weapon."

He smiles and shakes his head. "Flexibility is key," he says. "And... begin."

I attempt to try and stab him, but he dodges the first strike. He somehow parries my next one and his knife meets my neck. I stay still.

"Nice try," he says, taking the knife away.

I rub my neck. "So I would've died," I say. "And you're saying 'nice try'?"

Emil doesn't reply. He just lunges at me again, with the knife. I block his blow by catching his arm, and twisting it. He gets out of my grasp, and attempts to come at me again. This time, I'm ready. His chest is temporarily unguarded. I take my sword and slash it against the armor of his suit.

He smiles. "That was excellent," he compliments.

Suddenly, I hear a slow clap at the open door of the training room.

"I'm ready to train again, Emil."

"Clove," their trainer greets.

She takes off her hat and tosses it onto a dummy's head. Then she walks over to the weapons stand and picks up six knives. They were all identical with wicked sharp points that glinted in the fluorescent lighting.

Emil smiles. "Show him how it's done, Clove."

"My pleasure," she smirks.

There are five targets placed around the room. Clove stands on one side of the room, around 20 feet away from the nearest target.

"Ready, Clove?" asks Emil. When she nods, he says, "One, two, three!"

On three, Clove throws the first knife, which hits the closest target right in the centre. The next four knives find their marks on each of the other targets. The final knife is thrown. I don't realize until it landed, that it was about one foot away from my head, and it hits the water cooler.

Clove stands there triumphantly. I'm speechless and a little irked.

"Nice one, Clove," praises Emil, gathering the knives from the targets.

I shake my head out of my daze. "Yeah, great job nearly killing me, Clover."

She glares at me, her eyes daring me to say another word. "It's Clove," she says. "And the damn knife wasn't even close to your tiny head, alright, Kate?"

I glare back at her. After a few moments, Emil gives a long whistle that sounds more like a sigh.

"Well, it's been a long day," he says. "Why don't you go home, Cato. I'll see you tomorrow."

I could feel Clove glaring at my back as I turn to leave. Flicking her hat off of the dummy, I head out quickly before she could throw another knife at me.