Chapter 2-
Ship of Slaves
My head snaps up as I hear my name called. I don't want to be thought weak. I want to be considered a threat also. I don't want the people watching this on television to think I'm a crying, moping, nobody. I tell myself now, that the show has begun.
I swagger up the steps and take my place beside Marmy Hapshaw. She waits the appropriate time for someone to volunteer, but no one does. That's it then, I think, I'm going into the arena. I'm going to die.
"I give you your District 4 tributes, Allison Claire and Finnick Odair!"
Though the morbid thoughts dance through my head I know that I cannot let it portray on my face, I flash a dazzling smile to the crowd, and as a Peacekeeper comes to escort me to the Justice Building, I wave and wink. It might be my imagination, but I hear hundreds of girls giggle and envision their blushes. Did that girl from the beach blush. Probably not, but I try to forget about her. Where I'm going, I need to be confident and sure of myself. That won't be too hard, I admit.
In the Justice Building, I wait. I look around the room to the ocean-themed colors of pale grays and blues. I rest my head on the soft couch I sit on and close my eyes. Just as the ominous feelings start to drift away, they're swarming my head again as I hear the door open. My mother walks in, shaking in hysterics. I glide over to her and comfort her. I can't help but think how wrong the situation is. She should be mollycoddling me, not the other way around. I should be the one sulking and weeping in her arms, yet here we are.
"Mom," I say in a soft lulling tone, "you're gonna be alright. I'm gonna be fine."
She looks up at me, frail and helpless. I realize that she won't be alright without me. She is so dependent and heart-broken. What will she do without me? Her large blue eyes stare up at me and I pull her into embrace. This might be the last time I ever see my mom. Might? Ha, who am I kidding? I'm a goner. I might be strong and fit, but no way am I capable of some of the things I've seem Careers do on T.V. But, why should I give up now? If I can't be strong for her, no one will.
"Mom, I'm going to win," I say to her, determined.
"I know," she says, and she sounds even more determined than I do. She truly believes I can win. Then maybe I can.
Two Peacekeepers come in and demand her to leave, and she does with the soft whimper she always seems to voice. No one else comes to visit me. So, I wait until the Peacekeepers come to escort me off to the train.
There will be cameras everywhere. I have to know what my angle is going to be. Should I be intelligent? Ha, no, Finnick, don't be ridiculous. What about scary? Me? Scary? Yeah, I can't see that happening. Attractive? Well, that's a given. So, I tell myself, just be you and then some.
Cameras flash on the way to the train and I my winning smile flashes back, causing some female camera-men to whistle. I walk in step with Allison, my district partner, but feel oddly disconnected from her. It's odd that I have never seen her around, not once. Everyone knows everyone in District 4. She must have been one of those trained-from-birth Careers who were never seen outside a Game Center. District 4 has 8 Game Centers, places where we teach the Careers to hunt, survive, kill. Most kids train in the Centers; I've been in on occasion to practice combat and hunting. Other children practically lived there, training since infancy. Allison, obviously is one of these.
I walk into the train compartment and look around. It truly is stunning. Decorated in sharp and clean colors, an elaborate chandelier dangling from above. I took a seat right away, and continue to look about, until I get bored with the scenery and start fiddling with my thumbs. Allison walks to the chair across mine and sits, staring me down. I stare back, our eyes never leaving each others, green into gray. She smirks and shifts her gaze to the windows, and I notice that we're moving.
"I like your spunk, kid," she says in a shockingly sweet voice. "Didn't even flinch in our stare down. So, you plan on living or what?"
I look at her, dumbfounded, but wipe the clueless expression off in a second and say confidently, "I don't plan on just living, I plan on winning. Clearly I'm far too young and attractive to die."
She laughs and I give a crooked smile, and I think she might be blushing. I look away and cast my vision to the window. I can see the ocean surely fading in the distance as we travel further inland. I close my eyes and take deep breaths, swallowing as much air as possible. My breaths are numbered. Just then, Marmy bobbles into the compartment, spiking up her hair even more.
"Now, your mentors will be in here shortly. Oh here they are!" Marmy squeals.
An elderly woman followed by a tough looking man walk into the compartment. The woman flashes me a grin and the man looks me over skeptically. "You take your pick first, Mags," says the man.
"I'll take him," she says sweetly. I smile at her, she looks fragile and frail, but they're is also a spirit about her I can't put my finger on. I look over to Allison, hoping she won't be too jealous or angered. On the contrary, she looks utterly relieved. Maybe I would be too, if I didn't see that spark, that is. She is just an old woman. " I'm Mags and this here is Vincent. Would you two liked to be trained together or would you prefer to be separated?"
"Separated works fine," Allison says before I could tell them that I really don't care.
So Allison and Vincent go to a separate compartment and leave Mags and me alone. She studies me for a minute or so, her cheery smile never vanishes. "Your a handsome young man, aren't you? Now, if I'm going to mentor you, I'd like to know some things about you," Mags says.
"Uhm, alright. My name is Finnick Odair; I'm 14 years old and-"
"Oh, no dear! That won't be necessary; I'll ask you some questions and you just answer them," she says, smiling even still. "What's your favorite color? Now, don't give me that look, just answer."
"Green, like the ocean," I answer. I'm not sure about Mags anymore. I thought there was something about her, a spark, a glint in those brown eyes, but maybe I was wrong. Surely Vincent and Allison would be talking tactics and murder plans, and here we are, discussing my favorite color!
After thirty minutes, I hardly hear the questions anymore. I just answer casually.
"What's your family like, Finnick? Brothers or sisters? Parents?" Mags asks a little louder.
As much as this woman puzzles me, I can't lie to her. "I have an older brother, Sebastian, but he died three months ago. His boat and body were found along Rock's Edge by port. My mother was driven into depression because of it."
"Your honest," she whispers, "I like that. My own parents died when I was very young, so I lived with aunt. I was 16 when I was reaped for the Hunger Games. When I returned, my aunt had died of pneumonia. I was alone. But, I didn't let it destroy me. I warn you now, Finnick, that these Games will test you. They'll show you who you really are. I want you to be prepared. So now, we can begin talking about tactics."
I smile at her, not my award-winning, confident smile, but a goofy, boyish smile. So, we begin discussing strategy. Confident and attractive, that's what I'm playing at. Sponsors will eat it up; every wink will be a case of food.
"Now, don't be too arrogant. Arrogance is something that sticks with you after awhile. We still need your head to fit into your costume."
I raise my head and laugh. My eye catches the window. City buildings, all immense and radiant tower over the train. A banner hung from one building flashes in bright colors WELCOME TO THE CAPITOL, BRAVE TRIBUTES! We're here.
