Chapter Eight

893 19 1
                                    

Cato’s POV

It was completely bizarre stopping over at Clove’s residence a few days before, but I visited her house again this Christmas Eve, which was the most unintelligent pronouncement I had ever made in all of winter’s occasion.

When I entered her self-effacing home, I smelled the consuming scent of hot chocolate, Christmas ham, Christmas cookies, roasted turkey, apple pie, and other Christmas dishes you possibly will ever envision.

“Hi, Cato,” Clove greeted me with diminutive enthusiasm because her parents are on the house, and I just entered the dining room unknowingly.

“Cato, you’ve grown a lot.” Clove’s mother said as she positioned a huge plate of Christmas cookies on their mahogany table. (Hashtag Effie. Wink-wink.) “You certainly must join us tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.” I said politely, and I sat down next to Clove who pinched my hand really hard under the table.

“So, Clove told me you’re a bibliophile.” Clove’s dad said in insignificant concentration. “Seems rare enough for a young lad like you.”

“I usually read about the history of the Hunger Games.” I explained and I can see that Clove’s dad is amused, which is a little bit scary.

“Been there done that.” Clove’s dad said, as if being in the Reaping was tiresome and ordinary. “Well, I’m lucky because I never got chosen.”

“How does it feel like being in the Reaping sir?” I questioned him like I’m an inquiring interviewer.

“Well, it is mixed sentiments,” He said, “it’s like a preview or sneak peek of your miserable bereavement.”

“Do you even have to question that, Cato?” Clove impulsively asked in annoyance, and she mocked my curiosity. “Well, duh, of course the feeling would be anxious.”

“Some are willing to die for their district, like the Careers, they even volunteer.” I retorted.

“That’s enough.” Clove’s mother ceased the fight. “Promise me we’ll all have a decent meal without fights.”

Clove and I looked at each other, actually it wasn’t looking, and it was glaring. Clove stepped on my foot painfully, and I winced in pain. Her mother, of course, scolded her and apologized to me.

After serving up all the Christmas dishes, we began to eat peacefully at last. We didn’t talk that much but we usually laugh when there are Christmas cookie crumbs on our faces or whip cream on our chins. When it was time opening the presents, Clove gave me a present unexpectedly, and of course, I thanked her. As soon as I opened the present, it was a sword replica used in the Hunger Games, and as usual, she bought it from the Capitol, AGAIN.

A Memory He Wants To Forget (Clato Modern Short FanFic COMPLETED)Where stories live. Discover now