I can still do this

chapter 25

His family is all around an ornate table, eating dinner. None of them look up when we first walk in, because his mom and dad are busy fighting very loudly, over money, it seems. It's easy to pick up on what's going on with just a little effort; somehow, Cato's winnings are already wearing out and they're debating about what to do, go back to work or borrow some money until next year. The one thing that doesn't seem to be on the table is backing off on the extravagant lifestyle, which is probably the most viable option.

Throughout the argument, Silas and Sophia are silently eating, not looking up from their plates. They look scared. Eventually, Cato clears his throat. "Dad."

"Does it look like we're done talking?"

"Maybe if you'd won how you were supposed to, we wouldn't be having this discussion," his mother chimes in. It doesn't seem smart to point out his victor's salary is exactly what it would've been if he won alone. "Instead, we have to live like paupers," she continues.

"Can I talk to the kids for a sec?" Cato says, ignoring the other part of what she said.

She kind of shrugs, waves him off, and so Cato says, "Hey. Kids. C'mon." They follow us to another room, a living room, I think, with more couches than I've ever seen in one place. It's insane. Cato sits down on one. I sit next to him, and the kids gingerly take seats on one across from us.

"Are we in trouble?" Silas asks. Considering what Cato did to them, I could understand why he'd be scared, but he doesn't sound anything but defiant. Guess that runs in the family.

It's a second before Cato can answer. "No. You're not. No. Why weren't you at the feast?"

"Mom said we didn't deserve to go," Sophia says, looking up at us for the first time, and I can see she's got a broken nose, two black eyes from it, making her blue eyes stand out more than ever in her face.

"What happened to your face?" I ask her.

She shrugs. "Training."

Silas looks at me and shakes his head just a little, and I see that he's got a huge scrape diagonally over his face, across his eyebrow, nose, then cheek. "And you?" I say to him.

"Accident."

In theory, I realize that parents hitting their kids is more common here. I can accept that. Fine. Cultural differences or whatever. But looking at these two, I'm anything but okay with it. I want to hug them, but I don't think they'd ever let me.

"What do you want from us?" Sophia asks sharply, crossing her arms.

"You guys ever wanted to travel?" I say, just on impulse, because anything I wanted to tell them before is outweighed by their injuries and Cato's suggestion of them coming with us. "Like to another district or something. My district?" I say hesitantly.

"Sure," Silas says instantly.

"That's not allowed," Sophia frowns. "But why?"

"Because we thought you might want to come with us. Meet some of the people in district twelve, have fun at the celebration," Cato shrugs. "But if you're scared, we don't have to do it."

Brilliant big-brother manipulation. Sophia straightens up defiantly and says, "I'm not scared. I just don't want to hurt my chances of getting into the games."

"I'll go," Silas says. "If Mom and Dad will let me."

Sophia shoves him and Silas doesn't resist. "What, do you not want to be a tribute?" she asks him sharply. "They're going to kick you out if you get too close to the pathetic-" She breaks off, looking at me. "Sorry," she mumbles.