Sofia
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.
Her hands were ice-cold, her heart pounding, her steps slow towards the stage.
Someone's going to volunteer, don't worry, someone's going to volunteer, someone…
But even after the initial applause died down, no one called out. No one.
Someone's got to volunteer…
She kept thinking that, over and over and over, even after the escort had gotten tired of waiting for the well-known words that were not coming and moved on to drawing a boy's name. Whoever it was never left their place in the square; known trained tribute Marius Carat shouted out that he volunteered almost before the escort finished reading the first name.
Someone's got to…
The goodbyes with her parents and her younger sisters went by in a muddle. All that stood out clearly was her father's anger at whoever was supposed to volunteer and didn't, and her mother's attempts to calm him through her tears. Then they were gone. Sophia was left clutching the tiny gold locket her now-passed grandmother had given her on her tenth birthday and wishing desperately that she could've slowed down that time with her family, somehow.
This is a mistake, it wasn't supposed to be me…
Her family wasn't among the rich, but they weren't poor, either. They didn't have to, or want to, send her or her siblings to the Tribute Academy. They didn't have to take out tesserae, either. They were safe. Had been safe.
It wasn't supposed to be me. I'm not special. It's the special ones that go to the Games. They're born and bred for it, as Mother says. It's an honor for them.
The dining car in the train was full of goodies, some far better than what Sophia was used to. She couldn't eat. She excused herself quickly. Even from her room, she could hear Marius cursing about the girl who was supposed to volunteer with him. After all the training, all the testing, all the respect and praise, that girl had panicked. The eighteen-year-old trained to kill since childhood had panicked and left a fourteen-year-old who cried over as little as dead bugs in her place.
She couldn't make out every word Marius was saying, but it sounded like he planned on killing that girl when he got home.
If he gets home. I won't.
Sofia didn't like history class in school. Not because she didn't like the hearing about how the Capitol had saved the districts during the Dark Days, or about the innovative technology of District One that made it the producer of luxury goods, and therefore the richest district. Those were good things to know, important things.
It was just that it was the same story over and over again, the same information about long-dead inventors over and over again. Never anything new.
She liked their science classes, though. Every time you learned a piece of information, there turned out to be another piece connected to it, and so on and so on. A couple times, noticing her interest, her teacher had let her look at some learning materials meant for older kids. Sophia had especially liked learning about the human body as a whole.
"It's the most complicated machine ever!" she'd said.
Her teacher had smiled brightly and suggested that she might be a nurse or even a doctor someday. "Your parents could afford the apprenticeship fees, I'm sure of that! You just have to let them know if that's what you want."
"Okay!"
The first aid station in the Training Center almost made her cry.
That future career conversation with her parents hadn't happened yet; Sofia had wanted to wait a while to make sure she really wanted to do that. Her parents didn't want her and her sisters to have to work too hard, and being a nurse or doctor was pretty hard for sure.
But I think I really do want to work in medicine...I like making people feel better, I help my sisters all the time with lots of things...I'll never get to tell my parents now…
Except she did, seated on a stage with Caesar Flickerman, dressed in a ruffly pink-and-gold dress, giving the first interview of the night. She told all of Panem her dreams, not only of working in a hospital, but of having her own dog, of getting married someday and having lots of kids, of planting a big flower garden of her own instead of having just a corner of her mother's.
She even told everyone that of all animals, she liked butterflies the best, not just because they were pretty, but because they were so small yet changed so much over their life cycle.
It wouldn't be enough. It never would have been enough. Not for her. Not next to her handsome district partner. Not next to the fierce District Two siblings. Not next to District Four's stunning female tribute. Not even next to the powerful, charming boy from Twelve.
She held back her tears while saying goodbye to her mentor, who wished her good luck. Then she followed Marius down the hallway to their rooms, counting down the seconds until she could cry.
Have to get it out while I can.
Her hand was on the doorknob when she heard Marius clear his throat and say, "Hey, kid...Uh, Sofia?"
She turned, finding his ice-blue gaze locked on her. "Yeah?"
"Um...I'm sorry. About all this." He waved his hand awkwardly. "Satine...the girl who was supposed to volunteer...She's a bitch for not doing her job. She knew what she signed up for."
Swallowing, she whispered, "It's not your fault."
"I know, but…" He glanced down. "I...I can make it quick, you know? For you, for your family...If you want. District loyalty and all that. If...if you know what I mean."
She did. "Thank you." Then she went into her room without another word.
The next morning, she turned around when she saw him coming with a sword in hand.
It was so cold. But pretty, too.