Chapter 1
I am Finnick Odair, and I am from District 4. I am fourteen years old. And I will not be reaped today.
I figured if I keep repeating that enough then it will be true. I am Finnick Odair, and I am from District 4. I am fourteen years old. And I will not be reaped today.
I let out a loud groan as I rolled over as slowly opened my sleepy eyes towards the blinding sunlight that filtered through the paper-thin white curtains that covered my bedroom window. I hated Reaping day- for the obvious reasons- but also because being District Four meant that I have to wake up early- and anyone who knows me knows that I love (no, need) my sleep. I am Finnick Odair and I am completely and utterly gorgeous. Sleep is essential to keeping my looking perfect. The early morning sunlight of 4:30AM, slowly streamed inside, casting golden light over my usually bleak bedroom and illuminating the speckles of dust suspended in the morning air. I watched, mesmerised with these flecks of dust as they floated along, usually invisible but strangely beautiful in the soft light. And that's when I realised that I definitely needed to sleep more. I believe that waking up too early does terrible things to your mind- and admiring spots of dust was definitely one of those terrible things.
I, eventually, managed to drag myself out of bed. Okay, so I didn't have to wake up as early as this but I always did; true enough, we had to get up early for the Reaping but in combination with getting my hair to its usual magnificent standards (it's my pride and joy, and is probably the best thing about me according to the District 4 girls. Well, that and my smile, brilliant personality and something else… if I do say so myself) and my usual tradition of seeing the ocean for, "one last time", I had to wake up this early- which my body always tried to fight and almost always won.
By the time my hair has co-operated and I've laid out my clothes for the Reaping later on and I've gotten to the beach, its 5AM. I'm sat in a secluded part of the beach, one that my Father showed me years ago; it's much more peaceful than the main part of the beach were many people seem to congregate on the morning of the Reaping. I can't stay here for long, a half hour at the most, but even though it maybe cliché for someone from District 4 to say, just being close to the water makes me feel safer and more hopeful. The salt water is calming as it rushes over my legs, my feet, and my hands. The water is never changing yet somehow always constantly there, being able to bring my back home, to be able to soothe my thoughts and make me think clearer, and to relax the nerves and fear that racks my entire body. I am Finnick Odair, and I am from District 4. I am fourteen years old. And I will not be reaped today.
But what if I am?
Yes, District Four is, technically, a Career district, we're trained in weaponry; trained how to use knives, spears and even tridents, if we are lucky enough. Also, we're taught our trade from birth, how to make fish hooks, nets, how to hunt, giving us a greater chance of survival during the games. We're trained to fight and survive, not to kill. And of course, District Four is one of the richer districts- there's no poverty, yes, but there is severe oppression, strictly enforced rules, brutal Peacekeepers, run down disgusting shacks, even death just like any other district. It's only beautiful because of the sea. But you don't know that unless you're from Four. Other poorer districts presume that we're like One and Two, that we're the Capitols' lapdogs. We aren't. However, we're still considered Careers. We are supposed to regard being reaped as the upmost honour. I am Finnick Odair, and I am from District 4. We're supposed to want this, like the crazy career tributes of One and Two; we're supposed to want to bring pride and joy to our families by battling to the death or bathing in the blood and glory from the death of our fellow tributes. I am fourteen years old. But none of us want to get picked. And I will not be reaped today. I don't want to be picked. And I will not be reaped today. But if I am I'm sure somebody will volunteer; some glory hunting 18 year old would be dying to take the place of a skinny, hopeless fourteen year old with no chance of winning at all. After all, it is their last chance to bring honour to themselves, their families, and District 4.
I've been trained to fight. But I'm not ready to be chosen, I don't want to be chosen, I don't want to die. And I will not be reaped today. I will not be chosen.
"I am Finnick Odair, and I am from District 4. I am fourteen years old. And I will not be reaped today." I say aloud, straight towards the ocean, my voice carrying across the waves. I say it like I'm praying to someone, or something that can save me. "I will not be reaped today. I will not be reaped today." My eyes close tightly as I say my prayer, with the ocean appealing to my senses: the sound of waves crashing on the distant rocks, the sound of waves crashing on the shore, the cold breeze brushing across my skin, the salty smell of the ocean filling my nostrils. I open my eyes. "Yes Odair, keep telling yourself that," I say to myself, my voice thick with sarcasm- the ultimate defence, "It's definitely going to save you."
I push myself up from the sand, feeling the grainy gritty texture on my hands for what may be the last time. And I will not be reaped today. I let the ocean wash over my feet for what may be the last time. "It's not the last time. Finnick, it will not be the last time. Pull yourself together." I take one last look at the ocean, at home, then I head back to my house to get ready for the Reaping. And I will not be reaped today.
There's water in the bathtub, waiting for me when I get home. As I bathe, I slowly scrub away the salt from the ocean that has crusted on my legs and feet and then I wash my face. I wish that I could stay in there for a while longer but the water has grown colder and I need to get ready and, only now, do I realise the way that my stomach is growling- I need food.
Everybody in every District, no matter how poor or rich, know what a special day the Reaping is and everyone dresses in their finery for the Capitols' cameras. I slip into the sea-blue shirt that I already laid down on my bed, it matches my eyes or so everyone in my family says. I'd laid out a brand new grey suit as well but considering how warm it was at the beach this morning I just my better judgement to decide against wearing the suit jacket. I look in the mirror, fix my hair and smile.
The reflection that stares back at me is as gorgeous as usual, despite the severe lack of sleep. Yes, the total bluntness of that may be surprising but I'm not going to deny it, am I? I have the general tanned skin of most people from Four, as well as the most perfect honey blonde hair that shines golden like the morning sun. Most girls have fallen prey to my charming smile and almost perfect white teeth (even if I didn't want them too). I'm athletic, can steer a boat, I know how to make the best fish hooks and nets and I'm good with a spear. But my most amazing feature is my eyes- sea green, bright, enchanting, and enticing. I am Charming. Beautiful.
Well, like I said before, I'm hardly going to deny it.
"Finn," said a voice, timidly from behind the door frame. My youngest sister, Aria, is staring at me with her beautiful big round eyes full of worry. She always does this. She's 11 years old and even though she knows that next year it'll be her turn in the Reaping she uses all of her worrying on me until that time comes; she's done this for the past three years. She steps away from the cover of the doorway, tucks her similar blonde hair behind her ear, "Finn," she says again, with those same eyes.
"Aria, you okay?" I ask her, with a smile that seems a little too forced, so I let it drop. She studies me for a moment and then runs over to me and grabs me, pulling me into a hug and burying her face into my shirt. "Hey, hey," I say, holding her for a moment. I pull her away and kneel down, "Hey, it's okay. There's no need to cry, Aria." I am Finnick Odair, and I am from District 4. She looks up at me and bites her lip; it's and Odair trait for when we're trying not to cry.
"Finn, I'm worried," she tells me. So am I, I want to reply but I don't, instead I smile at her. "There's no need for you to worry one little bit. Look at me; I'm not worried at all." I am fourteen years old. She looks me up and down, and for one moment it looks as though she doesn't believe it. She knits her eyebrows together, "What if your name gets picked?"
"I won't get picked," I tell her in the most confident assured voice that I can muster. And I will not be reaped today. Before she can ask another question, before I have to lie to her again I stand up sharply and reach out my hand. "Come on, let's go and get some breakfast," She nods and takes my hand like we did when we were kids; "I'm starving, aren't you?" I say, a small smile creeps up to her lips and she begins talking about something or other. I exhale lightly, relieved that she is preoccupied and not thinking about the Reaping. I just wish it was that easy for me.
The bread is warm in my hands, it's a rare treat- not the bread, but the bread being freshly baked and warm. I inhale the smell slowly; salt, just like District Four itself. And it's tinted a beautiful green colour because of the seaweed baked inside of it. I eat it slowly savouring every bite, savouring the salty taste on my tongue. I even lick the remaining flour left on my fingers, my Dad notices this, "They'll have bread in the Capitol, Finnick," he jokes.
"Not as good as this though," I retort. "Anyway, I'd probably be too mesmerised by all the other beautiful foods to give a damn about bread." The atmosphere in our kitchen in tense, like it always is on the morning of the Reaping. It was the same for my oldest sister, Astrid, when she was eligible for The Hunger Games, it's the same for me and it'll be the same for Aria when it's her turn. Astrid is sat across the table from me, she hasn't spoken to me since I came down but she keeps looking at me like a fish before it's about to be eaten by a shark. "Will you stop looking at me like that?" I ask her after a minute of silence. I raise my eyebrows at her, "Astrid?"
She blinks her blue eyes twice before picking up her glass of water, "I wasn't looking at you like anything."
"You were," I say "I know I'm beautiful but Astrid, really I'm okay." And I will not be reaped today. She's wiser than my younger sister, she knows what it feels like, she knows that I am lying and so she only nods. I am Finnick Odair, and I am from District 4.
"No need to worry about him, Astrid. Odairs' are not afraid, especially our Finnick," my Dad says, gripping my shoulder. I am fourteen years old. He rests his hand on my shoulder and I lift mine up to squeeze his; he may be acting like he isn't bothered about my going to the Reaping or even me being chosen but like he said, Odairs' are not afraid.
"Exactly Dad, there's no need to worry about me. Any of you. Really," I try again to sound as convincing and confident as I can but I don't really have any time to worry about that. So I smile my most charming smile, "It's like a one in a million chance that my name will be chosen anyway." And I will not be reaped today. The tense atmosphere evaporated a little after that. I mean a little smile and a bit of charm from Finnick Odair does wonders.
"Maybe we can go out of the boat after the Reaping, Finnick," says Astrid with a smile, "You, me, Aria and Dad?" I nod my head. As long as I'm not chosen, I almost say but it's probably not the right time. Not that I usually care about timing and people's emotions but something about Reaping day with my family just doesn't feel like the time to be making jokes.
"Finnick," my Dad says, I raise my shining sea green eyes to meet his blue ones, "We should go. The Reaping will be starting soon." I drop my eyes.
I am Finnick Odair, and I am from District 4. I am fourteen years old. And I will not be reaped today.