Chapter 36: Sophia

This winter marks a year for Cato and me in accelerated training. When the snow starts to fall I can't help thinking back on this time last year. Cato was just starting and I was still adjusting. We didn't touch the instruments for weeks while he got used to training because he wanted to go over things to get better at them so he'd do better in training. I think that was the difference our first fights made in us. I was exhausted for weeks. He literally had to drag me out of bed on the first Sunday. I wanted to train, but after that, I didn't want to do anything. I think I must have been trying to avoid remembering the fight with Voski because I won it so brutally. But Jacob tore Cato apart and I think Cato wanted to be sure that could never happen again, no matter what disadvantage he faces in the future. Even when he was still hurting from that first fight, and then after that, while his muscles were sore before they'd adjusted to the new strain he and the trainers were putting on them, he never wanted to sit and play. We wrestled on the floor, scattering grass everywhere, and scared my parents when we practiced hand-to-hand combat. Obviously we never hit each other hard enough to hurt, but we did have to do it quickly to get the other person to react in real time and I guess it looked real enough to them.

I remember the day my father told us quietly that we should probably practice outside. Sometimes he and my mother would watch, not because they know anything about fighting, but because they couldn't really not watch, the same way you can't turn away from the screen during a fight in the Games. I don't know exactly what triggered my mom to become upset like she did, but I do know I was winning when she walked out. I'd looked around, concerned, even though I couldn't articulate why. Cato thought I was just distracted so he'd clocked me gently, laughing a little. I'd laughed too, briefly, before laying into him, moving faster than I had been before and hitting a little harder just to mess with him. It was fun until my father returned, gotten our attention, checked to see that Cato wasn't hurt, then asked us to take this outside.

"We're not hurting each other," I'd promised when he'd said my mother was worried we'd hurt each other. She can take care of minor injuries, I know because when I've skinned my knees or face or hands, she's patched me up, but she doesn't want to see them happen.

"I know, but you know your mother," dad said. "Just go easy on him," he'd added a moment later, trying to smile. Cato had taken offense to that and it'd been him pressing the attack when we took the match outside into the early spring air.

I thought about that conversation after dinner that night. Dad had said mom was worried, but he checked Cato when he came in, lifted his chin and turned his head slightly, checking for bruises or cuts. He did not do the same to me. And she left when I was ahead. She wasn't worried I'd get hurt, but that Cato would. She was shocked and upset that I could hurt someone else, especially Cato, who is my best friend. What does she think I do in the training center? Sew curtains, or something? I'd thought, laying in my bed, surrounded by my darkened room, one of Brutus's knives held loosely in my hand under my pillow. No, she's always known what it's for, what we learn to do there, but I guess it just hit home today. Her Marmot can hurt people, and probably she has. She wasn't wrong. Years ago, I might have wept upon discovering that my mother knew I wasn't the sweet kid she'd always hoped I would be, but now I wondered why it had taken her this long to figure it out. I closed my eyes, wrapping my fingers a little more securely around the knife.

Cato and I have time to play the instruments now though. He's more confident and I'm less sentimental. Life goes on. He's sitting at the piano with me just behind the bench. We're making up songs now and at first I thought I needed to stand somewhere where I could watch his hands, but it's actually easier just to listen and follow that way. Sometimes we play notes that clash at the wrong time anyway though and then we have to stop and go back and remember what we were playing an do something differently. It's harder to make up the patterns than it is just to play them, but nobody's told us to knock it off yet so it must sound alright. After playing for most of the morning though, we decide to take a break and go for a walk, maybe find Caleb, who's been walking around with Sophia, the girl he talked to at last year's Reaping, today. We pull on our warmest winter gear, say goodbye to my parents and head outside.

We wander for a while until we're both cold and hungry because we neglected to eat lunch before setting out. Cato's house is closer by the time we decide our feet are too cold to continue so we head there. We stomp our feet just outside the door to kick the worst of the snow off, then step inside, take off the outside clothes, and Cato makes some tea. We call for his parents, but they're out. Probably they went over to my house and we missed each other. We sit there drinking tea, thawing from the inside out, still hungry, but too cold to do anything about it just yet. We're here for about twenty minutes before the door opens again and we hear Caleb's voice and Sophia's laugh. Cato and I exchange smiles and sit silently, listening to them kick the snow off their shoes. We're good at being quiet because when they come into the kitchen, Sophia gasps and backs up into Caleb and Cato and I laugh.

"Real nice, guys," Caleb says, putting his hands on Sophia's arms to steady her.

"We made you tea though. Even before we scared you," I say.

"Yeah, that makes up for it, right?" asks Cato genuinely. Caleb looks at him like maybe it does but he doubts it. Then he collects two mugs from the cabinet and pours some of the warm water we left in the tea kettle. When he sees that it's just water he looks back up at us, more like glares, actually. Cato and I look at each other, which is stupid because we make each other laugh.

"You two are never dull, are you?" Sophia asks, stepping a little further into the kitchen.

Cato takes a swig of tea and answers, "Never ever. So, where have you two been all day?"

"All over," Sophia answers. "There's a winter market in the main town. People are buying wreathes and bells to decorate for the new year and some stalls are selling hot wine or roasted duck with almonds." I look at Caleb. Roasted duck with almonds? Where did he get the money to get roasted duck with almonds?

"Neither of us bought anything," Caleb says, seeing the expression on my face. "But one of the merchants gave Sophia a bell for braiding her daughter's hair. Sophia smiles and shows us the little silver bell. I doubt it's actually silver. No one just gives away silver, but it's silver in color.

"I could do yours if you want," Sophia suggests.

"Uh," I say, surprised. Really only my mother ever does anything with my hair besides put it up in it's hair tie for training or school. She brushes it sometimes, but otherwise only really does it for the Reaping Day.

"Oh, go on. Let her," Caleb says. "It won't hurt."

"I know it won't hurt,' I say, rolling my eyes. "I just never braid my hair."

"That's why she's offering to do it for you," Caleb explains patiently.

"Caleb! Would you, please, shut up?" I exclaim, trying to fake-glare at him. "I'm trying to get her to talk."

"Oh, well, excuse me. But you're a little scary sometimes to people who don't know you, so I'm trying to help her out."

"I'm a little abrasive at first," I correct him. "That's not scary."

"I gotta side with her on this one," Sophia puts in. "Abrasive, yes. Scary, Cujo is scary. She's not Cujo. Although I'm sure you can be when you want to be," Sophia assures me. I shrug. I like her. Cujo is a character from an old scary book I think. Caleb's the one who reads dozens of books a year so he probably knows more precisely, but if Sophia knows, too, it's good. It means Caleb's spending time with someone he can really talk to.

"You wanna make your own tea?" Caleb says to her, fighting back a smile.

"Please excuse my brother. He's rude because his side of our room is apparently a barn," Cato says.

"Also, if you really want to, you're welcome to braid my hair," I say. "But the compromise is that you'll have to move. I'm staying here to drink the rest of this."

Sophia smiles and comes around the table. "That's fine. It's easier to do it if you're sitting anyway." I stay quiet as she removes the hair tie and combs her fingers through my hair to get some of the tangles out. It got wet in the snow and the wet parts dampen her hands so some of the hair clings to her fingers, but she's gentle. I wonder if she has a sister, too or if her mother lets her braid her hair. Where else would she have learned to be gentle on someone else's head?

Cato and I have spent a little time with Sophia since July, but she's not in our class at school and then goes with Caleb to the stronghold in the early afternoons so he sees a lot more of her. I like her. She's smart like Caleb, albeit somewhat milder even than him because she doesn't train, but can still handle Cato and me. She's not a pushover, but she's not an obnoxious jerk either, but she can relate to both without losing her character somewhere in there. I think that's impressive. "There," she says after a few minutes, flicking the end of my braid over one shoulder. It jingles because she attached her silvery bell to the end of it.

"I don't have anything to trade you for the braid," I say, smiling. "Unless you want to learn to throw knives." Or shoot a bow, or play an instrument if my mother will let you.

"No, thank you," she says. "Consider this me paying you back for saving us back in July." I'm sort of surprised she still remembers that I did that. She's had so many normal conversations with Caleb since then that I'd think her first awkward attempt would have repressed itself in her brain, but I guess this way works out alright for both of us.

"I guess it's not so bad," I tell her, touching the braid. "Having someone mess with your hair, I mean. The braid is nice. It seems practical."

"And by that our socially awkward friend means thank you," Caleb cuts in. I roll my eyes, but Sophia takes the bait.

"She's no more socially awkward either of you two," she says, addressing the boys.

"Me?" Cato says, sounding surprised. "I'm not awkward. I'm a gentleman."

"Nope," she answers simply before turning her attention back to me. "It is. I do all kinds of braids in my hair for school and stuff. That way you don't have to take it down all day and you don't end up with loose strands."

"You could also chop off all your hair and achieve the same thing," Cato puts in as Caleb comes over, sets a steaming cup down in front of Sophia and sits down beside her.

"I would, but Lyme would kill me for it. They said I'm not allowed to have my hair cut outside of the stronghold. It's a whole pre-Games thing. But they didn't say no one could braid it. Maybe you can do it again sometimes if you want to. It kind of feels like a massage on your head."

"Ok," Sophia agrees. "When I'm learning new braids I'll practice them on you."

This is the longest I've ever been in Sophia's company. She and Caleb have spent a good amount of time together, but Cato and I have always kind of let them be. It's clear somehow that we're friends with him and she's friends with him, but our group of three doesn't seem to want to become four. That sounds terrible. I guess I mean we like her and she likes us, but there's something different about the way I'm friends with her and the way I'm friends with the boys and the way she's friends with Caleb. I think she likes him differently than we three like each other. She likes him the way. . . I don't know . . . like my parents must have liked each other when they first met, and that makes it hard to see her as just another member of our group, because she'll never want to be as close to us as she wants to be to Caleb. And I think he likes her back in that same way. At least I hope he does otherwise there's no excuse for the awkwardness that happened at the reaping. If he likes her, he's allowed to be a little stupid once, but if he doesn't like her, why is he allowed to build planes?

We talk with Sophia for a long time. It's kind of weird, being so stationary for so long, just talking, but it's alright. We learn a lot about her family, and I tell her a little about my own. Somehow the story of how I met the boys comes up and she says she isn't surprised I pinned Caleb.

"What makes you say that?" I ask. She's never seen me wrestle. And I can't think where she'd have seen Caleb wrestle. And she didn't know us when we were all the same size. The boys have a good six or eight inches on me now. A match between Caleb and me would look unfair, with the odds appearing to be in his favor.

Sophia raises her eyebrows at me, as if I should know. "I'm not attacking anyone," she says, which is probably good. We're a pretty sarcastic bunch and her comment from a moment ago could have come off that way. "But you have a reputation, and he doesn't."

"A violent reputation?" I ask, a little worried. Tributes have to be well-liked back home to get support from the District in the arena. If I have a violent reputation, that's not good.

"No," she answers thoughtfully, like violent isn't quite the right adjective. "No, that head trainer is violent. Whatever his name is." Paul. "And Titas from 6 was violent." Titas has to be one of the only non-Victor Hunger Games players who's practically become legend. Everyone knows who he was, even though he lost. "Not violent. Tough, I guess. You're not afraid to fight people who are bigger than you, and you've rarely come out worse for it, and even when you have, even after you've lost, you haven't been scared."

"I don't understand. Where do you know all that from?" I've only ever fought in the stronghold. Well, there was that one time on the street with Travis, but I didn't lose. I've only lost in a big way to Brutus and she can't know about that.

She seems almost as confused as I am. "Just people. You three aren't the only trainees at our school, but you do keep mostly to yourselves." That's news to me. I thought we were the reason the trainees made friends. "But the others talk."

"I didn't know her fight . . . fights with Brutus were common knowledge outside the stronghold," Cato says.

"I don't know about common knowledge, but yeah, people know what goes on there. At least they have a vague idea of the big stuff. I mean, they don't talk about that second fight, when you stabbed him, or your fight with him," She looks at Cato. "within his hearing and they don't act differently around him because he'd figure it out and they know he could kill them, but the stronghold doesn't exist in a vacuum." Some of it does, but I don't even look at Cato when I think of Tomas and the boy he killed. I don't want Sophia asking. Some things are best kept secret. It's interesting, though, that people outside have any inkling of what goes on in there. There's no vow of secrecy, but I thought it was kind of an unspoken rule.

We sit there talking to Sophia until the boys' parents come home. They say they ate at my house so they have two extra portions for two people, namely Sophia and me. They sit and talk to us while we eat a late lunch and drink another cup of herb tea. Sophia is from another village so Caleb says he's going to walk with her back up that way and we take that as a hint that they want to walk just the pair of them. I grin at Caleb at that and his brother gives him a punch on the arm while Sophia is tying her boots, but all Caleb can do is give us the "Shut up," eyes.

When the two of them leave Cato and I get a blast of freezing cold air, but it makes me want to follow them anyway. "What do you say we put some tea in a flask and go walking ourselves?" he asks.

"Sounds good," I agree, then join the boys' parents at the table while Cato puts more water in the kettle. It seems to take forever to boil and Cato's parents smile at me when I start scuffing my feet against their floor. I stop when I realize I'm doing it.

"Sorry," I say, grinning.

"Oh believe us, we're impressed that you two have been able to sit here for the late morning and early afternoon without kicking each other," Cato's mom says. Come to think of it, we do usually kick each other under the table and, though we all sassed each other at every opportunity, no one got kicked.

"Showing off for Sophia?" Cato's dad asks, looking from Cato to me.

"Cato's a gentleman, in case you weren't aware," I tell them, grinning. "It's Caleb who's trouble." They smile. No one who's had a two minute encounter with that boy would ever believe he's the troublemaker between him and his brother.

"Did you just mix them up?" their dad asks, looking concerned for my mental well-being.

Their mother laughs and says, "That's terrible,"

Cato adds, "Thanks, dad. You're a real confidence booster."

"Anything for you, son," he answers. "Now go take your water off the stove." Cato grumbles nonsense, honestly I don't even think he's saying real words, as he gets to his feet. But he takes the water off and then grins at his dad, telling him there's no hard feelings.

I get up again when Cato says the tea is ready and we pull on all our winter gear, grab the flasks and head out. For part of the route, we're treading over Caleb's and Sophia's tracks in the snow. I can tell they walk closer than Cato and I do. I smile when I notice that, then open my flask and take a small sip of the hot tea. I have to fight not to spit it out though because it's actually scalding. "If you've got to eat snow to take the sting out, make sure it isn't yellow," Cato warns me.

"You mean the yellow kind isn't lemon flavored?" I ask, my tongue tingling from the heat of the tea. Still I grin.

Cato gives me a look, then laughs and says, "Gross." I shake my head, as if disappointed with the lack of lemon flavored snow.

Part of me wants to head toward the winter market Sophia told us about, but at this time in the year, the sun will be going down soon and there's no need to trek back in the dark. Even on days when we hike into the mountains in winter, they're short hikes. We make sure to get back within the border before sunset. Instead, Cato and I weave our way through the streets of our village, then decide at least to walk up the first hill on the road to the main town to get a look at our home from above. We've seen it snow covered before, obviously, because we walk home every day, but we like to make the effort to actually appreciate it sometimes on our days off. We stay there for a while, debate going to check out what the cave towns look like today, but decide against it. The nearest one is at least a mile from here and will take a while to get to in the snow and it'd be dark by the time we got back. So we sit a while longer, drinking our tea, then feeling the warmth leech out of us into the air. When we're cold and there's no prospect of getting warm again without fire or more tea, and then sun has just gone below the horizon, we head back down the hill. I return the flask to him and we part, promising to see each other tomorrow as always.

Disclaimer: Don't own THG.

AN: So, I know you guys have heard from me exactly twice in the last six months, but I promise I'm still here and still writing. In fact, this chapter is new (You guys know I write the whole story and then go back and post it all. I edit chapters, but rarely do I add a whole new one. This and the chapter before it are new as in, I just wrote them), which is why it took so long to post again. Very sorry, but I hope you enjoyed getting to know Sophia a little better. It was Ghanaperu who said something about wanting to see more of her. She and Caleb aren't like an inseparable item in the way Clove and the boys are, even though they've been hanging out for a few months at this point. It'd District 2, they're wary and slow. But she's cool, and she's kind of their eyes and ears in the normal non-training world in this chapter so that's interesting.

A note on the flow of the chapter: The memories from the beginning are a little incongruous with the lightheartedness I wanted in this chapter, but I don't know, I just wanted a little reflection (maybe because you guys have seen me so infrequently recently?) So even though the flow is kind of weird, I hope you like it.

To my darling reviewers!

Ghanaperu: I'm glad you found them imitating the accents funny. I didn't want it to seem like a drawn out scene or like they were OOC so it's good that it was funny. I think I forgot to mention this in "Match Postponed" but there's some serious foreshadowing there, too. You're super smart so you probably already noticed that, but I'm going to write it anyway. Spoiler alert (I guess. I mean, really if you're reading this, I assume you've read the books and/or seen the movie but just in case.) The boy Tomas kills dies in the same way Clove dies in THG. Right? Rock to the skull, no blood which is actually wicked bad because it means there's excess pressure around the brain which is what she dies of. So Clove watches someone suffer her same fate a few years before it happens to her. Weird. Like I say, here's no violence in this story without reason. Wow, that got dark.

Clove1113: I'm always really happy when people see Clove's humanity. We don't often think about it, especially when we see her in the arena or at training, but she's actually totally a decent person. She was protecting Tel and Kai. As far as gratitude goes, Clove's still grateful, but mostly because wanting to become a Victor is so engrained in her at this point that what even would she do without it? She's absolutely starting to figure out that this is messed up, despite her best effort to be ok with it all.

(So, I just summarized the girls' thoughts in this chapter. Ready?

Both: "Lol silly boys."

Both: "Lol braiding hair."

Sophia: "So one I time I heard you stabbed a guy."

Clove: -awk-

I'll see myself out.)

Anyway, I'm gonna try not to wait 3 months to post again because I love you guys.
TTFN ~Billy