"If all my friends were to jump off a bridge, I wouldn't follow. I'd be at the bottom to catch them when they fall."

- Anonymous

[An Intermission taking place in May, Hunger Games Year 65]
Clove Holloway is a first year, aged 7. Cato is a second year, also aged 7.

"Cato!" he heard his name called from a distance. He'd wondered if Clove had planned to make an appearance. She vacillated often, making it difficult for him to know when she'd observe his sectional exams and when she had other matters to attend to.

As she approached him, Clove looped her arms around his waist and hid her face from sight. "Oh," he said, slightly dismayed by the act. Cato recollected himself and beamed in return.

"You did really good! Next year, I want to be that good," she said, muffled into the wrinkle of his shirt.

Cato suppressed a gentle smile, murmuring, "Thanks, cutes. It was a lotta' work, you know." His voice was scratchy and unsure. He looked to the towering lockers and considered how long it'd be before another student caught him in such a compromised position.

Clove withdrew her hands from his waist, unwinding herself from him, and said to him in a haughty manner. "Stop calling me cute. I get stronger every day, okay?" she challenged, flexing her arms.

"You can be more than one," he teased, unsurprised by the bite in her tone.

"No one cares about being cute when you can be smart instead," she retorted, placing her hands on her hips. "As my father says, cute doesn't get you very far."

It was then Cato noticed the severe braid her hair had been contorted into. He was grateful to be a boy with short hair in light of this.

"I'm already all three," Cato shrugged.

"You'd be lucky if you're even one," Clove returned, sticking out her tongue at him. It didn't take him long to snatch her by the braid and primly pull.

"Oh yeah? And which one is that?"

Clove bit her lip, muttering, "I like your eyes. Maybe you'll get smarter and stronger when you're older, though."

Cato managed an admonishing stare in return at the jab. "I think you're cute, too," he said, batting his blue eyes at her mockingly.

She gave him an accusing look before correcting sternly, "I'm smart, NOT cute. Being smart is better."

"I think you're all three," Cato remarked, unabashed. He nearly laughed at the flush of her cheeks, but saved himself from an early grave.

"Can we get on with the training yet?" she asked, suddenly in center focus. Clove adjusted the weight of her blue messenger bag on her shoulder. "You promised."

Cato frowned, retrieving his water bottle. "I didn't think you were being serious."

"Well, I was!"

"Can't you train with the other girls in your cohort?" he asked, a long gaze at his street clothes on the bench. Cato wiped his forehead with a small towel to dry himself off.

"I don't like them."

"But you like me?"

Clove refused to dignify his inquiry with a response.

"Just this once, I guess," he conceded, grabbing her braid and tugging on it for emphasis. "Alright?"

Her eyes held an unwavering defiance, which she paralleled by crossing her arms. Cato chose this moment to throw his duffel at her. "Hey!"

"Nothing in life is free, you know. Let's go," he said, more sternly. He didn't wait for her to catch his pace.

At the door leading out of the boy's locker room, Clove stopped, looking carefully in both directions. When she saw the coast was clear, she followed in pursuit.

They found a solitary room painted red. The wall parallel to the entrance was a climbing wall and on the adjacent wall were mirrors to serve as reference to your work.

For about a half hour the two completed very basic sparring drills. Cato discovered quickly how disadvantaged Clove really was. He wondered if additional training would even be worth the effort considering the level she was at.

After pinning her down for the third time in a row, he leveled a lofty glare. "Are you even trying? How is punching and forearm block the only things you've managed to get right after a whole year of training!"

Clove struggled under his hold, attempting to push him off. Eventually he released her and backed away, wearily remarking, "Come on, Clovey. We said no crying."

At the comment, she turned away from Cato, and sniffed a few times, attempting to regulate her breathing. Cato frowned, worried, "You don't cry with the others. I'm not even that tough on you. There are meaner people out there."

Clove leveraged a glance at the climbing wall before giving it a singular walkover. Without a follow-up, she began to scale the wall. "Have they taught you to climb that yet?" Cato called to her, bewildered. "They haven't taught us."

"How hard can it be?" she challenged, haughty.

He ran closer to the wall and made a motion to yank her down, but she had already ascended out of his grasp. "I don't think that's a good idea, you know!"

She continued to scale the wall, nearing the top when she lost her footing and fell backwards. Cato lost his breath and became motionless, but her trajectory put her right on top of him as she landed.

Cato caught his senses a few seconds later and adjusted his body weight to shift her into a more comfortable position. "Why did you climb the wall if you haven't learned yet!" he demanded.

Clove turned towards Cato and held him tight, releasing a floodgate. "I thought we said no more crying," he said, softer.

After reorienting herself, Clove nodded, and looked to him directly. "Next time I get to save you."

Cato continued to frown, but lightened up a moment later. "Does that mean I get to climb the wall next and you'll catch me if I fall?"

He started to walk away, but she pulled him down, "No!"

"Alright, alright," Cato joked, grasping her hand and pulling her up. "Next time crazy Clovey gets to save me. I can live with that."

[An Intermission taking place in December, Hunger Games Year 66]
Clove is a third year, aged 8. Cato is an Intermediate Trainee, level 1, aged 9.

Archery was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Any chance she got, Clove would give Nero the meanest scowl she could possibly muster, and pray he could hear her thoughts. Archery was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

This was hopeless.

She had never asked Nero for a thing in his life! It'd been difficult to yet find an opportunity in which their lives intersected to begin with. He was two years ahead in school and a year in the Annex. So, when she had finally managed to gather the nerve to ask about archery, he had only said she wasn't strong enough for weapon and that he wouldn't waste his time bothering to try.

Archery was his, he had reminded her.

All he had really reminded her was how much she really hated him.

She needed something in which she could excel. Truthfully, there were more things she refused to dabble in than things she was willing to dabble in. Weapons without subtlety, for example - swords, axes, spears. Swords required tight spaces, while axes and spears demanded better luck than most folk had.

Spears especially were out of the question as they were the weapon of train for Dicey Wilder. She'd have lapped around the Annex a thousand times before subjecting herself to that level of degradation.

So, as it stood, Clove was stationary in place with a quiver to her side and a bow in her hands, testily attempting to master the craft of archery. She delicately pulled an arrow from the quiver, and put the arrow into position, leaping forward as she fired the arrow.

It traveled a short four feet and then clanked to the ground, seemingly off its axis. She repeated the motion, shooting a follow up, but this time hit the wall. While a more successful venture than the last, it had gravely missed its target. Clove sank to the ground, worn, and pulled her head into her arms, levying a heavy sigh.

When she considered her kindergarten teacher Mrs. Astrid and the remarks she'd made a handful of times, alluding to her potential, Clove wondered if the woman was batshit crazy. Clove had been angling herself a number of ways, but continued to fail in her duty to hit the target.

Archery was stupid.

Clove took a breath and returned to base. She rooted her feet in the ground and fired the last of the arrows. It shot forward with more force than the previous attempts, but her head still fell. The arrow was nowhere near the assigned target.

Clove pinched her nose and scowled, clenching her fists in dismay. In a jolt, she grabbed her messenger bag and stormed from the room, and ran directly into the last person she wanted to see.

"Stop following me! I didn't tell anyone!" she cried out.

"Hey, I-"

"You found her, Cato! Great work," a familiar voice said, coming from up behind.

"Why today? I hate you! I wish you'd burn up and die!" She stood rigid, a subdued snarl upon her.

Like a hyena that found its latest bounty, Felix Grey narrowed in on her, circling with great interest. Tailing him was an uninterested Dicey Wilder, who appeared begrudged to have stumbled upon this scene, and Nero Kaiser, who was watching Clove with an inquisitive stare.

"Now, how is the weakest link of the Year 64s doing today?" Felix asked, offering a predatory smirk.

Clove took in a breath and began inching away from the collective carefully. Felix snatched her by tail of her shirt and pulled her back. He gave her an expectant look. When Clove didn't respond, he pushed her forcefully to ground.

"Leave me alone!"

"C'mon, Holloway," he chastised, "If you're gonna be a weakling, at least be fun to watch."

Cato's eyes found her own and she retaliated with an icy return. He appeared to implore her with redirected eye contact, but she gave him no mind.

"Fight me, Holloway. You'd make a good warm-up," Felix challenged.

"Felix, leave her alone." All turned to Nero, and he added, "You know she can't fight back." Nero set himself between Felix and Clove and gave Felix a controlled push away from her. "Wouldn't you rather have a worthy competitor?"

Felix appeared scandalized and began posturing protest. Nero released a wary sigh, waiting for a response.

"I'll fight you," Cato offered with a wolfish grin. "Watching you pummel that runt won't be any fun. She'll go down in a minute and then begin crying."

"Oh, please. Felix, do not. I can't handle anymore crying right now. It's all my sister EVER does," Dicey piped up, suddenly reengaged. "Fucking girls, man."

Felix turned to his pack and sulked, but caved to their imploring eyes. Nero gave him a shrug, but smiled, and beckoned him back to them.

"Whatever, I guess."

He gave Clove once last lookover, "Hey, Holloway, d'ya think you could stop making the rest of the entire Annex look back? Grab a knife, ax, who really cares what, and get into shape. I mean, really, how the hell did you get to Level Three?"

Clove remained in place.

Felix stalked off, grabbing Cato along the way.

"Hey, Felix. You should use a handicap! Make it more interesting," Dicey suggested, following in suit. Nero was the last to rejoin them. He gave her a wary expressions, before placing his hands behind his head, and rejoining his friends.

[An Intermission taking place in August, Hunger Games Year 68]
Cato is an Intermediate Trainee, Level 3, aged 11. Ditto for Nero. Magnilda is a Registered Youth, Level 1, aged 7.

The second time he met Magnilda Holloway, she was surrounded by a small group of cheerful first years. He vaguely recognized the surname on one of the girl's identification buttons, storing away that connection for future reference. Each of the girls wore their red pins with an austere confidence. Magnilda easily waved them off and sat beside him in a sense of eeriness that wouldn't leave him.

Magnilda's hair was in lopsided pigtails, this time without the teal ribbons on each end. Her hair was a few inches shorter of what Clove's had been at that age. He figured that was probably for the best and would minimize the likeliness of being targeted, though a good friend group helped with that as well.

"Hi," she said, eagerly.

"Hi," Cato managed, rather reluctantly.

She grabbed his left arm in a rather sharp gesture. "Hey!" he quipped, "What are you doing!"

"Seeing if your hand's okay," Magnilda said, then let go.

Cato scowled, "Then why didn't you ask? You're worse than Clove." Though that may have been true, she sulked much better than Clove did, turning away from him in a fit. "Is that all you wanted, Nelly?"

"No," she replied, pouting. "I have a question."

"Okay... shoot."

"Are you Clove's boyfriend?" she asked, earnestly.

"No way!" he replied with dismay. "We're not even talking right now. How'd you get that idea?"

Magnilda tilted her head to the side. "Mama said that we should never be a trophy girl."

"What the hell is a trophy girl?" he asked.

"A girl who's pretty and stupid and sacrifices her happiness for a boy," she said, like it was obvious.

"That's a trophy wife," he corrected, still confused. "What does have to do with me?"

"Well, cuz, Clove brings you food and trail mix snacks even when you make her cry at night, and that's what a trophy girl does according to mama — she does everything for a boy, even when he's mean to her," she explained in sporadic bursts, and breathy commentary.

He hadn't thought he could feel any worse about Clove's injuries. Apparently, he'd been wrong.

"I made Clove cry?" he asked, a glutton for punishment.

Magnilda nodded easily, "All the time."

"I don't want to make her cry," he said, his throat scratchy. "But I don't know how to stop."

"Just don't do it," Magnilda responded, levying a heavy glare at him. "Especially if you're not her boyfriend."

Cato gave her a confused expression, "Would it be any better if it did while her boyfriend? I feel like that would be worse."

Magnilda scoffed derisively at that. "If you were her boyfriend at least she'd know you care about her."

"Is that what your parents are like?" he asked, curious now to understand the mental framework of Clove Holloway. "Is your dad mean to your mother?"

"No!" Magnilda said, immediately aghast. "Mama and papa are best friends. They're never mean to each other."

His parents were best friends, too. He didn't think that gave them any pretense of kindness. "My parents are best friends too, but I think that just means they know how to hurt each other more."

"What are you parents like?" she asked, her eyes curious.

"Let's trade secrets," Cato replied, winking at her. "You go first and then I'll tell you everything you want to know."

With the gleam in her eyes at that offer, he wondered if he had made a rather dangerous proposal. Magnilda took his left hand and began to gently pat it. He didn't bother to steal it back, only imploring her gently.

"Mama and papa met a long time ago. She was the boss at a daycare for army families and he was an army cadet. One day, he went with my auntie to tour mama's daycare, and he got into a kerfuffle with one of the teachers. When mama found out, she yelled at my uncle, and uncle Brick got really confused, so he told daddy that he needed to make things right."

"Looks like it worked," Cato said, smiling softly.

"Not right away!" Magnilda replied, shaking her head. "Papa went to the army dance for soldiers and the other people who worked at the base, and then he saw her again in her red dress. He thought she was the prettiest woman alive, so he went to talk to her, but she didn't want to talk yet. So, he watched her dance with a bunch of drunk soldiers, and started laughing at her. When she finally came back, she told him she'd never dance with him if all he was going to do was laugh."

"So, is your dad still a soldier?" he asked.

"Now he's the boss of the soldiers, the loo-tena."

"What's a loo-tena?"

"Lieutenant," he heard Nero correct from behind him.

Cato turned to his friend, "Oh, that makes sense. Thanks."

"Sure," Nero said, shrugging. "Hi Nelly."

"Hi Nero," she said, cheerfully. "I was telling Cato how mama and papa met."

Before Cato had an opportunity to ask how the two knew each other, Nero said to her, with some reservation. "You know, Nelly, it's probably not a good idea for you to tell people about your family. They could use it against you."

"I wouldn't do that," Cato retorted with great offense before he could stop himself.

Nero looked at him warily. "Others could," he said, with a finality that meant the conversation was closed.

"Okay," Magnilda said, clearly unhappy their conversation had been cut short. "Cato was gonna tell me about his parents next."

"What's there to tell?" Nero asked. "They're awful people."

Cato heard his brother's voice in the back of his head chastising him, Don't be so blatant in your disregard.

"Nero!" he managed.

"Well, they are!" Nero said, completely unabashed by his candor. Cato recognized that Nero meant this in his defense, but it wasn't Nero's job to hate his family. Clove did enough for the whole of them.

"What are your parent's jobs?" Magnilda interrupted. "Since I told you what mama and papa do, that's fair, right?"

"They work in the mines," Cato replied, easily.

"Does that mean you're poor?" she asked, with sincere curiosity.

"Nelly!" Nero chastised, "You can't say things like that."

Cato looked to Nero, who was still flushed. "Does that mean I'm poor?" he asked. He'd never considered it before. "Most of our parents work in the mines."

Nero struggled to answer. "I guess it's relative. If all families are poor, then none of them are poor."

"I don't think being poor works that way, Nero," Cato said, trying not to make Nero uncomfortable, but still wanting his friend to understand.

"Why are your parents awful people?" Magnilda asked, changing course again.

Cato glared at Nero.

"That was wrong of me to say. I'm sorry," Nero muttered, apologetically. "They're not awful."

Cato snorted. That wasn't why what Nero said was inappropriate, and he made that clear, too, "Oh, they are, though."

Magnilda looked at Cato seriously. "Hey Cato?"

"Hm?"

"Can we be friends?"

"Nelly," Nero warned.

He wasn't sure why Nero had such a stick up his ass, but it only reinforced his decision. Cato gave Nero an airy glare and smugly extended his hand to her. "I'd really like that, Nelle."

And this, he decided, was how he'd make amends.

Author's Note (2017): I moved a third intermission from this chapter to the beginning of chapter nine. I felt with the edits I made to chapter eight's content, I needed to clarify how Cato and Clove became friends again before he had his first kill test. I replaced that with some Holloway back story.

Written: June 22nd, 2012
Edited: March 26th, 2017 (grammar); May 5th, 2017 (content)