I watched as the waves rolled over my feet, taking the sand with it. Digging my toes father in, I let the water glide over them numerous times. At my side, I pictured my dad, drawing pictures in the sand. Unfortunately, he wasn't here. But, I longed for him to be.

Yesterday was my 10th birthday. It was odd, not having my dad there with me. It was my first birthday without him since the- accident. I longed for this aching pain to leave me. I wanted him here, but I wished he would stop haunting me. Everywhere I went, his smiling face came to my mind. If it wasn't his face, it was his eyes. Or his laugh. Or his voice.

My eyes wandered the shores. Out in the water, men in their boats fished, and kids jumped from the rocks. The thought of jumping from the rocks -into the water- scared me. Actually, it terrified me.

Down the shore, just a little way was a boy. His knees were curled up, and his hands were clenched in the sand. He looked familiar. I'm sure I'd seen him around the beach in the past. He must have been a few years older than me in school, and I'd seen him in the halls. I just couldn't put a name on his face. I stood up, so I could go say hi. The boy looked upset. Maybe he needed a friend.

I walked over, sitting down in the sand next to him. He had bronze skin, light curly hair, and sea-green eyes. He looked at me, a confused expression on his face.

"Hi," I said softly. "I'm Annie. Annie Cresta."

He looked me in the eye, for an intense second. I was sure he didn't like me. Was there something I did? There couldn't be. I had just met him. It took him a while to answer.

"Finnick Odair," he said quietly.

"Are you okay?" I asked him. He looked upset.

"No."

"Do you need a friend?" My mom always had told me that sometimes all someone needs is a friend.

"No."

"Is something wrong?"

No answer.

"What's wrong?" I repeated.

"Everything."

"I know what you mean." Honestly, I did.

"Doubt it," he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

I just let that pass. He didn't know me.

"So, did your girlfriend break up with you or something?" I asked, a little sarcasticly.

"I haven't got a girlfriend," he snapped. "I'm only 12."

I understood partially now. He was twelve, and his name was put in the reaping for The Hunger Games, two weeks from now.

"Oh, you're upset about the games." It was a fact, not a question.

"Partly."

"What about the other part?" I knew I was being nosy, and probably irritating.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine."

"Alright."

With that, I walked up the beach, through the meadow, and down the trail to my house. I was sure that was the last I was going to see of Finnick. At least I though it would be the last I would talk to him.

It was a Saturday morning. The sun was just peaking over the clouds. It had been a week and a few days since I first met Finnick on the beach. The air was crisp, and the wind caused my hair to blow in my face. Fog covered most of my veiw, and the ocean looked long and endless. The waves crashed over my toes, and once again, I tried to forget the pain I was still under. The beach was silent for now, but I knew it was just a matter of time until the shores began to load up with fisherman and children.

It wasn't until the fog cleared up a little, and the sun came out all the way until I realized the tan, light haired boy sitting down the shore. I had seen Finnick Odiar around school, and on the beach once and a while. He refused to even acknowledge me. Even though I knew he didn't want anyone to know he knew me, I still waved. I figured it couldn't do any harm to be nice to him.

I stood up, with no hesitation, to go walk over to him. My feet dragged in the cold, soft sand. There was a feeling in my stomach that Finnick wasn't going to want to talk to me. I guess I couldn't blame him. I'd been kid of a thorn in his side for the past week or so. I considered staying, planted, on my side of the beach, but I knew it was only a few days until the reaping. I at least wanted to wish him luck, morbid as it sounds.

I sat down next to Finnick in the sand.

"Hi, Finnick. I'm Annie. I don't know if you remember me or not." I was kind of hinting at the looks he gave me in the hall. I stook out my hand, in hopes that he would shake it.

"Annie," he grumbled, in apparent aggrivation.

"Did I do something? I'm just being friendly." I said it with an edge of irratation in my voice. What did I do?

"Just go away. I want to be alone."

"Please just answer me. I'm kinda getting sick of you ignoring me. I am a person. And I have feelings. And it makes me sad that you're ashamed to know me."

He sighed.

"Seriously, I'm not in the mood to talk."

"You're not in the mood to talk? Or you're not in the mood to talk to me?"

He though about this.

"Both," he admitted, a little rudely.

That hurt, bad.

I didn't answer. I just stood up, and walked away without a thought.