Heat of Jealousy

      She's sleeping with him!  She just curled up beside him, put her head on his arm, and fell asleep!  How dare she even touch him!  How could she possibly be sleeping with him?!

      My blood boils and churns in my veins.  Despite the chill creeping in with the night, my face and body grow warm and I know I'm going red.

      And how could he let her?  He has never been interested in girls like her at home.  What has changed in him that he will now let her spend the night curled up against his side?  What has possessed him to allow this to happen?

      For some reason I can't fully explain, I am jealous.  If anyone in this pack has the right to be sleeping beside him, it's me.  Not some flirty, no-good, senseless girl who is just like the females of the Capitol.  She can defend herself a little, but she's a disgrace to the name Tribute.  Tributes are supposed to be like Cato or me or even Marvel: big, strong, firm, grounded, ruthless.  She can't even use that bow she has clutched in one hand.  I have half a mind to snatch it from her and give it to the District 12 girl just so I can have the pleasure of watching little Miss Perfect die.

      A sly grin lifts my mouth and I enjoy the mental image for a moment.

      As the fire dies, I see the District 12 boy – Peeto or something like that – lying on his side facing the woods, and Marvel – Miss Blonde-Sexy-And-I-Know-It's District 1 mate – snoring as though he's already won the Games and there aren't about 5 tributes calling for his blood.  And he'll have at least three more once we have to break up our pack in the end.  When I glance back at the pair of new good friends, I catch the light green-blue of Glimmer's eyes.

      We stare at each other for a moment in which time freezes and my fingers curl absentmindedly around the hilt of one of my many knives.  Then she throws me a devious smile that mocks me and the ten feet that separates me and Cato.  She knows she's gotten under my skin.  I'm probably smoking I'm so angry.

      She snuggles closer to him – my District mate – and gives an exaggerated sigh of content.

      Cato shifts.  But he must be asleep too because he doesn't open his eyes.  Glimmer closes her own eyes and is asleep in a minute, her breathing becoming slow and even.

      It is a long time before I am able to cool down enough to even contemplate sleep.  But right before I do, I remember something Cato taught me back home in District 2 when I was only about eight-years-old.

      Smirking, I spit on the ground in Glimmer's direction and raise my fist.  I lift my middle finger and flip her something Cato said the barbarian districts call "the bird."  Feeling a little better, I close my eyes and dream of all the possible ways I can mutilate her pretty little face with my faithful knives.  I think I'll leave the actual killing to Marvel.  He seems to hate her even more than I do.

      Happy thoughts.  Very happy thoughts to doze off with.