As a Roman (Prequel to The Lost Hero)

3: War...

Sophia sat with a few other girls, and chewed her pasta thoughtfully.

She looked over at Cato and his unattractive friend-she was pretty sure Joe was his name. They talked and joked about whatever it is guys talk and joke about. Nothing interesting, she thought.

So far, Cato had been avoiding Sophia like the plague. And Sophia, no matter how much she loved annoying people, was respecting his decision. He was a self-centred, arrogant moron, and he wasn't worth her energy. Even if he was

attractive . . . no. Best not to pay him any attention.

She so far hadn't made any friends. Sure, the other kids would talk to her, but none of them had done anything to continue the beginnings of a friendship in any way. A few of the boys admired her from afar, but none of them had bothered to talk to her.

She figured that they were probably just shy. But she wasn't going to make it easier for them at all.

She stood up after finishing her lunch and decided to go for a walk. She didn't like Berkeley as much as New York. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like she could belong in New York. Of course, that might have something to do with not belonging at this camp . . .

She wanted to try to talk to some of the other kids, but none of them really seemed to understand her. They were all different, in some way. And she wasn't sure how to break in. It was enough to make the most self-assured person uncomfortable.

Sophia didn't like Reyna much. She would be an awful sister, she reflected. Thank the gods Bellona was just a cover story . . .

She gave her head a light shake to clear it. Of course they wouldn't understand. There was probably no other fourteen-year-olds in her position. She was far more important than other half-bloods. She wasn't indispensable, like the rest of them. She mattered. And she was very proud of that fact.

And then there was her accent. That made her stand out like a pimple on a model. And her skin didn't have the lovely tan of these Americans. It was porcelain, like most other Irish. And she hated it.

The only thing she liked about her appearance was her hair. It was thick, wavy, and bright red (well, as red as hair could get naturally). It was the thing that made her stand out most, but she still didn't care. It was her best feature.

Sophia walked over to one boy who was maybe a year or two younger than her.

"Hi!' she said. "I'm Sophia. I'm new here, so I need someone to talk to."

He seemed a little taken aback by her friendliness, but after a moment he smiled.

"I'm Alex."

"Nice to meet you, Alex. Have you heard of the Alex Rider books? They were my favourite a few years ago."

"Um, no?" he responded.

"Oh. Too bad, you should definitely check them out."

"Okay," he said.

"So, what's your favourite pastime?"

"I like archery."

"That's cool! I suck at it. Maybe you could give me some pointers."

"Sure, I'd love to. By the way, your accent, is it Irish?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. It's cool! Why don't you use the slang?"

"When I came to America, I tried to drop it. It's difficult to understand for some people. But I kept my accent. I like it, too."

"My sister would love you. She's ten and she's always trying to put on accents. She's not very good, either," he laughed.

"She sounds cute. I wish I had siblings. But it's just me. Of course, I've lived on my own for a while, so I might have some, for all I know!"

"Hey, maybe you do! That'd be pretty cool," he admitted.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm glad I decided to talk to you, Alex. A lot of the other kids haven't been as friendly as you."

"I'm glad you did too. You're interesting," he agreed.

And that was the beginning of their friendship.

***

A few weeks later, it was time for one of the war games. Cato was excited. He loved them.

Of course, he'd never admit it.

The teams were made up of each legion, so Joe and Cato could work together. But unfortunately, it also meant that Sophia was on their team.

Oh well. Cato'd try to avoid her. Like he'd been doing the past month that she'd been at camp. They'd only spoken once since he'd had to show her around camp, when they'd had to be partners for sword fighting. Worst part of his week, he had later told Joe, who had laughed and told him he should just give her a chance. But Cato hadn't taken him seriously; why should he give Sophia a chance? She'd already proven to be as annoying as a mosquito, something he detested.

Cato adjusted a strap of his armor. He wanted to have it absolutely perfect so it wouldn't get in his way or weigh him down.

He had polished his sword last night, too. He always went a little bit OCD when it came to preparing for things like this. Hopefully, it'd make him a great warrior. Like Caesar, or Alexander the Great, or someone like that.

It was his dream to become one, but he'd never tell anyone. One of the things his father had told him was, never reveal what's in your head. It was a weakness, according to him.

And like his father, Cato hated weaknesses.

He stood next to Joe. "Ready?

"Yep."

Then Jason's voice rang out, loud and clear amongst the buzzing from the legionnaires:

"Let the war games begin!"

********

A/N:

Yay I updated! I'm in a bad mood today lol so I'm not going to have much of an author's note. Anyway, bye! Hope you enjoyed!

Comment and vote and all that!