Chapter 4

"Hold still," Tessa whispered in my ear as she dabbed at the blood glued to my face. I looked straight ahead too embarrassed to make eye contact with anyone. We were in a little corner of the gym, which was apparently the medical room, but it was basically a chair and a first aid kit.

Why did I have to pass out? I lost, and everyone saw.

Of course, everyone knew I was going to fail. I had no chance, but I wanted to prove them wrong. Instead, I took a nap on their perfectly sanitized mats. They were probably mopping up my spilled blood right now. I noticed Cato practicing with the spears, my name still carved into his flesh. I immediately jerked my head the other direction.

"Clove, you need to keep your head still," Tessa hissed as she applied a cool gel across my nose. I nodded which only got me more disapprovals.

"What injuries do I have? I asked in a quiet voice, careful to keep my head straight.

"Minor concussion, bruised nose, black eye, thats about it." she said like it was nothing. I guess it was nothing compared to what could happen in the Games. At least I would heal quickly.

I glanced down at my hands, stained red with blood. Cato's blood. I bit my lip nervously. There was no way Cato would let me out of this. I practically gave him a tattoo. That wound would take a few years to heal completely, if it ever did.

"How's Cato?" I asked glancing in his direction.

She peaked out behind me and squinted across the gym. "Looks fine," she said holding an icepack to my head.

She laughed but I didn't see what was so funny. "I hope you like what you did because it will be there for a while."

Way to go Clove.

"Do you think he'll kill me?"

"Let's just hope you aren't in the Games together." she said with a wink.

The Games. If I can't survive a fight with Cato, how will I make it through the Games?

"Well, looks like I'm done," she said starting to pack up the little medical kit.

"Wait, Tessa?" I said sitting up straighter.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Ryker will kick me out for cutting Cato?" I asked barely able to say his name. I didn't feel worthy, which was stupid.

She laughed so hard, that several people stopped to glance in our direction. She actually had to use me for balance to keep from falling over.

"Are you kidding me?" she laughed, wiping her eyes. "He lives for that stuff."

I let out a sigh of relief. "So I'm good?"

"He actually probably likes you more now." she said with a shrug.

"That's good," I said smiling. "Better get back to practicing." I hopped down to the floor with little pain.

"Clove, wait." she said with a nervous smile. "I was thinking, that maybe you would like my help?" I felt a stab to my heart. She didn't think I was good enough. She thought I needed her help.

"You said I was good! You convinced him to let me in!" How could she think that I needed special training? I tried to push past her but she blocked my path.

"Just listen!" she said grabbing a hold of my shoulders. We locked eyes and she smiled. "You are one of the best throwers I've ever seen," she whispered, "But we need to work on fighting and strength." I had to admit she was right. "Meet me early tomorrow morning, and we'll have a private session." She patted me on the head and walked away without another word. I was left standing alone. I considered not going as I walked over to the knives. My mind wouldn't stop spinning as I threw.

I should go! I need to go!

I can just teach myself.

I'll die without the training!

I don't need her help.

I walked home that night, feeling exhausted and hungry. She hadn't exactly asked me to go, it was more of a command. I had to listen. I was her student. My head didn't stop drowning in thoughts the whole way home. As I reached my neighborhood, I realized I hadn't told my father where I was going. Not that he cared. Well, how would I know. We hadn't done much talking. I raced up the gravel road, my legs begging for a break and flung open the front door.

"I was wondering when you'd be home." my father muttered from the kitchen table. His clothes were covered in dirt and grime, which meant he just returned from work. I awkwardly slipped my boots off and took a seat across the table.

"I see you made dinner?" I said glancing down at his roll and jar of peanut butter.

He shrugged and shoved a spoonful of the spread into his mouth. I impatiently waited for him to ask about my injuries or something, but realized we were going no where.

"I was at the Academy," I said tapping my fingers on the table.

He stopped chewing and cocked his head to the side. "What?"

"I was at the Academy, where they train kids."

"Yes, I know what that is."

"Well I was there."

He was silent.

"I earned it!" I pounded my fist."I showed them my skills and they let me in!"

"They just let you in?"

"Yes."

"You go there now?"

"Yes!"

"Really?"

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes, I am a student at the aAcademy. See?" I said pointing to my blood soaked uniform.

He smiled slightly and patted me on the back, then returned to his food. "Nothing like peanut butter toast after work. You can have some if you want." he offered.

Wow, thanks.

No I-knew-you-could-do-it, no I'm-so-proud-of-you. I didn't know what I was expecting. I glared as he trudged up the stairs. I sighed and set my head on the table. The cool wood felt nice against my sweaty skin. I knew I shouldn't expect much from him, but I couldn't help the disappointment from filling me. I had worked so hard, and I guess I expected someone to care. Anyone. No, all I got that day was threats, a beating, and some peanut butter toast. I closed my eyes and was surprised to feel a small tear roll down my cheek.

"Harder! Harder! Use all of your strength!" Tessa shouted as I hit a punching bag. My muscles burned as I attacked it. My whole body was sore from sleeping at the table, but I decided I shouldn't use that as an excuse for my poor punching. "Alright now ten laps around the gym. Let's go!" I groaned and started to trot around the gym. "Pick up the pace!"

So far training was torture. Tessa insisted that these first few weeks would be strength and endurance building. We would meet every morning for an hour before the academy actually opened. It had only been 20 minutes and I already couldn't breathe. I didn't know how I was going to be able to keep this up.

"Alright I'm done," I said trying to catch my breath. "Now how long until I get to learn to fight? I want to beat Cato." I collapsed on the ground, still barely breathing.

"You guys are so cute." she laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's cute, your little crush. "

I immediately bolted up. "I do not have a crush on him! Why would I like someone who practically killed me!" I shouted.

"Okay, but he's all you've been talking about lately." she said with a smile.

"Because he almost killed me and I want to get back at him!"

"Sure, sure. Now back to the punching bag and I want to see 35 good hits." she snapped. I sighed and trudged over to bag. It felt like an entire lifetime until people actually started showing up.

"Well I guess our private session is over. Same time tomorrow." she called as she ran over to welcome the students coming in. I let out a sigh of relief as soon as she was gone and decided I deserved some time with my knives.

Our training sessions continued, every morning for one painful hour. I was getting better and it showed. We started working on combat. It was hard at first, but so was throwing. Eventually, I could punch accurately and knew exactly where to hit. I was finally happy. The happiest I had been in my entire life. Even through the hard training, blood, and sweat, everything was worth it. I could tell Cato and his friends noticed I improved because they stopped picking on me. Well, occasionally Lena would come over to remind me my hair was a mess, but why would I care. I was here for the training. The feeling of hitting the center of the target. The feeling of accomplishment. I absolutely loved it.