I watched the tide role in and off the shore in a fixed pattern; my equally blue eyes followed the water in a steady motion. The ocean always calmed me, and took me to a higher state which I never experienced with anything else. I took a deep breath in, relishing in the smell of the salt from the water, and the faint scent of coconut on my skin and hair. The water was definitely what I needed in order to be semi relaxed at the reaping.
Dying doesn't scare me and that is the morbid bleak truth. I figured the end of my life would all be a blur and what comes after doesn't frighten me in the least. I suppose what comes before—how I die—is what really scares me the most. Unfortunately I was in the wrong place at the wrong time because The Hunger Games should practically change its name to You Will Most Likely Die In An Unpleasant Way and Suffer For a Few Weeks Before If You Even Last That Long. And that was my reality.
At sixteen years old Marina Hadley was written on four white slips of paper in slick black ink. Four out of hundreds, but that's all it really takes. Isn't it crazy how one moment in time or one slip of paper with your name written on it could change your life forever? But if I thought about this forever a girl would be batshit crazy.
I walked along the empty shore of a very quiet District 4. Nobody was fishing or shrimping as they normally would because of the "occasion", but it didn't bother me one bit. The reasonably spacious white houses were closed off from the world, but I knew that inside some family of some kid I probably knew were grimly dressing for the fateful reaping. I imagined my own mother would be wondering where I was, but I still needed to talk to somebody before I went home. Finnick Odair.
Finnick was my very best friend, although he was considerably older than me. It wasn't weird though, and it never had been. He was more like an older brother, and he was fiercely protective of me, as was I of him. Considering Finnick's towering height, broad shoulders, and monstrous muscles, I wouldn't say that he exactly needed my security. From a young age Finnick taught me how to protect myself, and fish at expert level with multiple tools, including my hands and especially a spear. Both of these means of hunting provided me with great reflexes and proficient concentration. After Finnick won The Hunger Games he put an even greater emphasis on the skills which were at one point so vital to his survival as a tribute.
I approached the door to his house in the victor's circle, and knocked. I could hear some banging from inside, and a loud "COMING, COMING!" rang from behind the door. A small smile crept on my olive face at this act so typical of Finnick, a fierce but rather lovable warrior.
The door finally swung open but after a quick "I don't know who you are." It slammed in my face. Oh boy, I had played this game one too many times. I did a pattern of knocks, our secret knocks, and when I was finished the door swung wide open.
"Oh yeah, MARINA! Now I remember you." I giggled and stepped inside.
"You're being awful cheerful for the occasion." I commented and took an apple from a basket on his counter, biting into it.
"Yeah well, gotta keep the good vibes flowing, you know what I mean?" He said, and I stared at him with my usual, 'Finnick you're so weird, shut up' look. He merely smirked.
"So let's make a bet," I propose, "mom will put me in that ridiculous sparkly blue dress again." Finnick took a deep breath in and slowly shook his head with his eyes closed, probably imagining me with the hideous attire on.
"That isn't even a bet, I know so." We both laughed half heartedly, and although we acted as if it was just another normal day, we both knew it was not. As if on cue we both wrapped our arms around each other in a tight endearing hug. Never had I felt so terribly sad yet perfectly content in my entire life. Finnick pulled back and placed both of his hands on my shoulders.
"Everything will be okay."
"That's what I said when you got picked."
"I know, and look; I'm standing right in front of you." I throw my arms around my best friend one more time before announcing I have to go and take the short walk back to my house.
When I walked in the door of my simply decorated home, I found my mother waiting on of the overstuffed blue chairs in my living room.
"For heaven's sake Marina, we have to leave the house in forty minutes, where have you been?" She scolded me, a look of anger displayed on our thin tan face.
"I'm sorry mom, I was at Finnick's, you know, talking before the— " she cut me off midsentence.
"Whatever, it doesn't really matter. Come on, quick quick, we have to get you dressed."
I sigh loudly and follow my mother into her bedroom where in fact, the sparkly blue dress that I've worn since I was a 12 was laying on her bed; needless to say it had become reasonably shorter and a lot more provocative each year. I think the routine helps her though; me wearing the same dress each year, the same dress that I had not been picked in yet. I slipped into it, and french braided the sides of my jet back hair and pinned it in the back, leaving the rest to fall to the bottom of my rib cage.
By the time we leave the house, the streets are crowded with children and adults and crying babies all dressed at their finest. We were all headed in one direction, toward town hall. As I made my way to my destination, the twisting, churning sensation in my stomach made my way up to my chest, and my breathing picked up speed. I prayed that nobody would notice the signs of my anxiety, though I doubted any of them had room to judge. After all, we were all headed to a possible death sentence. I clenched my clammy fists and made my way to the roped section for the 16 year olds. It felt like a cage, and I could not reach anybody outside, especially Finnick who would soon emerge on stage to take his place as a mentor.
Kira Maxwell, our advisor, made her way up the stairs, and yes, sure enough, there was Finnick, emerging from the shadows and onto the brightly lit stage. I knew that I was not the only one watching this or feeling this and the thought made me sweat and my heart rate picked up again. When Kira tapped the microphone it sounded like the crash of building collapsing on itself.
"Hello and happy Hunger Games! I wish you all the best of luck but before we get to the exciting part, let's all enjoy this video from the Capitol!" She spoke a little too perkily. I watched the usual video but without paying much attention.
"Now, how about we draw the girls name, hmm?" I clenched the sides of my dress and shut my eyes as if I could close out my reality.
"Marina Hadley!" I did not make a sound. I did not move. I just opened my eyes. Space had been cleared for me to walk on stage, but I was afraid that I could not walk at all. My balance was off, my footwork wobbly, and my head was spinning. Black spots appeared before my eyes. After what seemed like an eternity I slowly walked onto the stage. I could not look Finnick in the eyes.
"Good, good." Kira said and went on with the boys, calling some name that was familiar but not very. Before I knew it I was hauled off inside of town hall.