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“Attention, attention tributes. There has been a slight rule change. The previous revision, allowing for two victors from the same district, has been revoked. Only one victor may be crowned. Good luck! And may the odds be ever in your favour…”Cato and I stare at each other in disbelief as Claudius Templesmith’s voice is drowned out. We’re standing on top of the Cornucopia, having just pushed Katniss Everdeen and Lover Boy over. They were our only competition. All that stood between us, both of us, and home. And now they’re gone. And one of us will be too.“Come on,” Cato says, reaching his hand out to me. I am distrustful at first but he shows no signs of violence. I take his hand and we slide down the Cornucopia, landing on the ground with two heavy thuds.We’re both bleeding and I know we won’t last another night in the arena. For now, the Gamemakers have decided to give us a rest. A calm before the storm.Cato leads me to the edge of the lake where he washes his hands of any blood they contain. I want to tell him that it’s unsanitary and could cause infection, but by the end of the day, whichever one of us is still alive will get the best healthcare money could buy.I join him in washing the blood off my hands and face and soon, we sit together staring out at the arena. I feel like we’re two lovers on a beach with the way he is silhouetted in the sunlight. We sit in silence before I let out a small chuckle. “Remember when we were taking our yearbook pictures? Last year?” I laugh.
“Don’t remind me!” he covers his face in his hands as I laugh.
“Your mother forced you to wear your father’s old clothes and gel your hair back.” I laugh.“Okay but what about that school assembly? When you were thirteen?” his brow quirks up as he looks at me.
“I wasn’t that bad!” I defend myself.
“You sounded tone deaf!” he cackles and falls back into the sand. I join him and raise my hands in the air, the sunlight weaving between my fingertips. “What should we do?” he whispers. The sun dances in his blonde hair.
“What else is there to do?” I ask and he nods.
“We’ll walk twenty paces away from each other. Then on the count of three, we’ll start.” he says.
“Okay.” I agree and stand up, reaching my arm out to help him. We both take off our body armour so that the death can be quick and painless.We stand at the edge of the lake for a while, hands clasped together. I don’t feel like letting go but figure I should before the Gamemakers send something else our way.“Ready?” I ask.
“Not yet,” he whispers and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around him for a moment before pushing him away.“Goodbye, Cato.” I tell him. I want to say so much more, but I can’t. There isn’t time.
“Clove?” he says.
“Yeah?” I ask and he pulls me back to him and kisses me. Not roughly or for very long, I’m sure Lover Boy and Katniss had much more dramatic moments. But he kisses me. His lips are chapped and bitten up and before I can feel more, we pull apart.“Goodbye, Clove.” he tells me.We turn our backs to each other and count aloud the paces as we take them. On the twentieth step, we turn back to each other. I can’t see his face well from here but he doesn’t look as viscous as he usually does when he’s about to kill someone.He just looks like Cato. Like he did back when we were in school. Like he did in the cafeteria and all the other girls were looking at him. He’s just Cato.“Three!” Cato shouts.
“Two!” I say, readying my knives.
“One!” we shout together and it feels like the blood bath all over again. Except this time he doesn’t have my back.I run up a few meters and Cato is closing in. I’ve always been faster so I stop my stride and throw a knife. It skims his cheek and leaves a gash across his face.I throw another and another and another as Cato advances. The handles bloom out of his body in a grotesque manner. The knife in his eye doesn’t make me feel very good about myself.Cato crumbles. The volunteer, the most theorized victor, the beast, taken down by my hand. He hits the ground and I rush to him.His heart had stopped beating before he even hit the ground. The ghost of his life echoed upon his face. I look into his one remaining eye and I see his whole life.I see his mother and father, both who were so proud of their son and what he would do once he won. I see his little sister, only six years old, probably an accident if I’m being honest. I think of how he used to carry her on his shoulders when they went to markets. I think of how she will never be that high again. “Goodbye, Cato.” I whisper. I need him to know. He had to have known what he meant to me. He was a year above me in school but we sparred together often.I remember when I first met him. I was 11, he was 12, and the teachers put us together to practice some drills. He didn’t want to hit a girl but the teachers told him he would have to if he wanted to win the games. So we sparred. And we continued to spar long after that initial meeting.Then I started helping him with his homework. He couldn’t read very well but he was great at math. So one day, he proposed a deal.“Clove,” he said. “I have a deal for you.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“If you keep helping me with reading, I’ll help you with math,” he said. And he beamed at me so proudly.
I had a 98% in math. He had a 90%. I didn’t need his help.“Sure!” I told him and that’s what we did. He’d help me with quadratics and trigonometry and I’d help him with grammar and spelling. I got a 99% in math that year and he got an 87% in English.“Goodbye Cato.” I say again, louder. I cringe as I take the knife out of his eye and cover it with my hand before I see the wound. “Goodbye.” I say and this time it is me who kisses him. His body is going cold despite the false sun beating down on us. I shut my eyes tight as the tears come. The Capitol may have heard what we said to each other and seen us kiss but they will not see me cry.A hovercraft appears above me.
“Step away from the body!” a voice booms over a very loud speaker. I am not ready. I’m not ready for them to turn him into an animal. I’m not ready for his eyes to be placed inside of some mutt. I’m not ready to never see this boy again.“Step away!” the voice commands. I look down at Cato one more time. He is gone. I repeat that in my head, over and over again. It has to sink in that even if I stay here with his body forever, he will still just be gone.I let out a tortured sound as I force myself to turn away from him.“I love you, Cato.” I whisper. And some part of me knows he heard it.And regardless of why he is gone, some part of me knows that he knew then and that he knows now.