Behind the Mask

Cato

Cato sat at the dinner table on the train, waiting for Helenia and Clove to come so they could eat. At that same table sat their so-far-unnamed mentor for the Games. Standing quietly to the side was a servant, an Avox, Cato guessed.

Helenia leaped into the room. “Clove’s on her way!” she sing-songed. Cato fought back a smile. He understood why Clove was laughing earlier; Helenia was quite the cheerful woman.

Just as Helenia was taking her seat, Clove walked into the room—once again, her face blank, yet defiant. She sat down across from Cato, although avoiding his eyes.

“All right, you two. This is your mentor, Hartell. He’ll being assisting you in training—which you already know a thing or two about—and your interviews. Feel free to ask any questions!” said Helenia, ending with a toothy smile.

Hartell was huge. Bigger than Cato, and that was definitely saying something. He had brown hair that fell in thick curls on his forehead and neck. He had the face of a tough guy, and the scars of a warrior. He had a long, shiny scar going from just below his ear on his jaw line, all the way to just under the corner of his mouth. He had smaller scars, battle scars, elsewhere on his body—but the one on his jaw was most prominent.

Cato began the talking, almost immediately. “When do we officially start training?” Those were the first words that flowed out of his mouth. He was up and ready to go.

“You’ll start in about two weeks, give or take. We have to go to the Capitol for your nationwide interviews, and you’ll train there for three weeks.” Hartell spoke with a deep voice, so deep that you could practically hear his chest rumbling every time he spoke. “You’ll want to take advantage of your training, and get to know everything. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Try out everything, even if it’s not your strong point. Try all the weapons, go to all the work stations, and do everything. You’ll have three weeks, but make sure you use every second of it. Every second will always count.”

Cato was about to speak again, but Clove beat him to it. “Do we have to work on everything with our district partners?”

Cato felt his stomach take a dip when Clove said that. She didn’t sound nasty, but there was… somewhat of an edge to her voice that Cato didn’t like. He didn’t like it at all. Did she not want to train with him? Was that it? He knew her, but she didn’t know him… So why would she want that? Endless thoughts ran through Cato’s head as he pondered what Clove said. He didn’t even stop long enough to think of why he was so bent out of shape about the whole thing.

“You’ll probably want to stay with your district partner,” said Hartell, as he motioned to Cato with his fork. The uneasiness subsided a little. “since you’ll be together for most of the Games.”

Alliances. District Two was known for alliances. Hell, District One, Three, and Four were too. The Careers, they were called. Cato wondered who he’d form an alliance with. After wondering about that for a moment, he realized he was going to be allies with Clove. The uneasiness was gone.

What are you doing, Cato?

“Which brings me to my next point,” boomed Hartell, snapping Cato from his thoughts. “Alliances. You’ll want them.”

As Hartell went on about alliances, Cato found himself staring at Clove. She seemed to be listening intently as Hartell spoke. Cato nibbled on a warm piece of bread, and wondered when he was going to get to know Clove. They definitely had time, but he just… didn’t know how to… do it.

This was odd. Cato was never nervous or weird around girls. He was naturally a ladies man. The girls he had gone out with at school, he had never been weird around them. He was smooth. He’d never really stayed in a long relationship, he mostly jumped around. But it was never awkward for him.

Before Cato knew it, dinner was over. Plates were being cleared away, and people were retreating to his room for the night. Dinner was uneventful for him, he didn’t get to really talk to Clove—which was his intention.

Suddenly tired, Cato got up and made it to his room in three long strides. He walked to the bathroom, took off his clothes, and hopped in the shower.

Cato let the hot water beat down on his back as his thoughts strayed. He was tired. He had done too much thinking, which caused too much confusion. Cato knew when he liked a girl, and he was never nervous about it. He knew he could get whomever he wanted.

Wait.

Cato shut off the water, mystified by the thoughts that just crossed his mind. Did he like Clove? No, he couldn’t. He barely knew her, for God’s sake! But, he had to admit, he liked what he’s seen so far. She was so… unusual, compared to all the other girls he’s ever known. She was different. She was strong, fierce, ready. She was a smart girl, and he knew that she was capable of a lot of things. All the other girls from District Two trained hard, but Clove seemed so much more determined. It was almost like it was personal. He’d always admired her for that.

Cato shook his head, shaking his hair out as he dried off and slipped on pajama pants and an undershirt. Suddenly, he wasn’t so tired anymore.

As soon as he was dressed, he glanced at the clock. His shower lasted longer than usual. Everyone was probably in bed already.

Cato walked to the door, and opened it. He heard the TV going, and wondered who was still up. Clove, maybe? He shut off the light in his room, and closed the door quietly. He made his way down the hall of the train, and to the living room.

The living room was dark as midnight, except for the glow of the TV. He saw Clove perched on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes focused on the screen.

“Hey,” she said, without even looking at him. And he’d thought he had been quiet.

“Hey. Mind if I, uh, sit?” Cato struggled for words. He mentally slapped himself. He was never like this.

“Go ahead.”

He sat on the large L-shaped couch, a whole cushion away from Clove. “What’re you watching?”

“Today’s Reapings.” said Clove, her eyes never leaving the screen. Her eyes were big, brown, and focused.

Cato’s thoughts slipped right out of his mouth. “You don’t talk very much, do you?”

Her eyes didn’t even stray, but he was sure her voice turned a tone softer. “Usually, there’s no one here to talk to.” she said quietly.

Cato didn’t know how to respond to that.

She tightened her arms around her legs slightly, and they watched the Reapings in silence.

Once they got to District Twelve, Clove spoke up again. “The girl, she volunteered.” she finally moved her eyes in my direction, and pointed at the screen. “There’re never volunteers from Twelve.” Curiosity crossed her face just as Cato nodded in agreement, wondering about why the girl had volunteered.

Clove spoke again. “Why did you volunteer?”

Cato opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again. He couldn’t say because he was ready.. But that’s the only thing that crossed his mind. She focused her eyes in on him as he pondered. “Well, uh… the truth?”

She nodded, her eyes bright and her ears open.

“Well… I, uh, it’s because I’ve been told I should. It’s all I’ve ever really practiced for. My parents sent me to training when I was seven, for the Games. It’s what they want for me.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I…” Cato thought again. He came up blank. He was silent for a long time, but he could feel Clove’s piercing eyes. “I guess… It’s never been about me, really, has it?”

“But it’s your choice, isn’t it?”

“It’s never really been about my choice. All the decisions made for me… Weren’t made by me. It’s been like that my entire life.” Cato’s eyebrows knit together. He’d never really thought about his own choices before. His parents, or trainers, have been the only people to make decisions for him. Cato never really had a choice in whether or not he wanted to go to training. He just did what he was told.

“Why didn’t you ever say what you wanted?”

Why was she so curious about me? At dinner, she sounded like she wanted to get away from me as fast as she could. But now what? Cato thought to himself. “Because… I guess I’ve never really… known what I want. I’ve always done whatever I could to please my parents. And they were always proudest of me when I did well in training.” Why was I telling her some of the most personal things about me? Why was she so interested? Their entire conversation was just adding onto Cato’s confusion. But, Cato realized, surprising himself, that he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind Clove knowing these things about him. He wanted to know her too.

“I know what that’s like. Trying to please your parents.” said Clove, her eyes shifting back to the TV screen. But Cato knew she wasn’t paying attention. She had her guard up.

Cato scooted a little bit closer to Clove, just a little. He wanted to break that wall between them. “Most District Two parents are like that. It’s all we’ve all ever really know, isn’t it?”

“The only thing my parents have ever cared about, pertaining to me, is my training. Training, training, training. Never anything else.” Her eyes were back on mine, now that she knew we had somewhat of the same feelings on this. Clove turned off the TV, and turned to face him in the dark. The only partial light they had in the room was the moon shining through the windows.

“I guess that’s all my parents have ever really cared about.” Cato mumbled, feeling incredibly stupid. How had he never realized this before? Clove obviously caught on fast. His parents were just like all the others in District Two. Now that he really looked back on it, he could see it. Loud and clear, right in his face. Training. That was all his parents ever cared about.

Clove couldn’t see Cato’s face in the dark, but he knew that she knew he was angry with himself. And he knew that she shared that anger, burning deep in her heart.

Cato punched the pillow he was holding, once, twice, three times, almost ripping the seam. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have never noticed? Cato was furious. He needed his sword. His trusty, favorite sword that he knew so well. From training. He would take a sword to their throats right this second. All of their words, they never meant anything. He was the product of their cravings for glory. They wanted him to win the Games because they never could. They never really cared for him, they cared for his training.

Angry moisture started to form in Cato’s eyes, which made him even angrier. He punched the pillow a fourth time. The seam in the side of the pillow ripped, and bits of white cotton were spit out.

Clove scooted right up next to Cato, side-by-side. She put her hand on his upper arm. The warmth radiating from her hand made the anger subside.

She moved her hand in slow, small circles on his arm. And then she said those two words that Cato needed to hear.

“I know.”