First had been Finch's old tutor. He had stood in the middle of the luxurious room; a frail, stooping man, and yet he seemed to become more animated than Finch had ever seen him. He ranted to her about tactics and her clever she was and how she was well able to win the games. When he was asked to leave, he sniffed and began to pat his eyes with a tissue. Finch was unsure what to do, but he only glanced at her and quickly left.
Then was Finch's parents. Her father had looked at her with guilt-ridden eyes as her mother had cried in Finch's arms. It was strange, to be patting her mother's head, as the woman had never showed much interest in Finch, and less affection. Finch had certainly never cried on her mother's lap. While her mother seemed to be trying to create her own river, Finch's father just stood back, not talking but watching Finch, as if trying to preserve her right there. Tough luck dad, I'm as dead as last District 5 tribute, and probably the next too, Finch thought darkly.
The guards left her parents with her for as long as they wanted, but after ten minutes Finch had to ask them to leave. She felt herself collapsing inside, and she needed to stay strong, at least until she was on the train. Away from the prying cameras.
Her mother had kissed both of Finch's cheeks and hurried out. Her father hugged her and told her she was strong and clever and they'd be proud no matter what. He even finished with how he was looking forward to seeing her as a Victor. Finch didn't have to see him, only listen to the tone of his voice to know he didn't believe himself.
"We're proud of you, and… I'm sorry." He turned and walked around, closing the door gently behind him. Finch grabbed the pillow next to her, and hugged it, trying not to cry. Although she had never been particularly close to her parents, there was something final about saying goodbye to them.
The door creaked open. Finch looked and jumped up, and ran over to her brother.
"Hey come on Finchy." He muttered into her hair as she hugged him. He led her to the couch, and she automatically sat down. Finch felt tears coming and knew she wouldn't make it to the train as she hugged him.
"Do not cry!" He said sternly as he pulled her away from him and looked at her. "Okay? You don't want them to pick you as a target."
"But I'm already one!" She hissed coldly at him. Even Finch was surprised by how much she believed it.
"No, you're not. You are mysterious. You won't show off at training but score in the middle. You'll be quiet enough, but smart in your interview. Nobody will know who exactly the real Finch is. You could be a blood-thirsty murderer for all they know. But you're on the small side so the other tributes will leave you be. You'll use your head to survive, and then when they remember you're still there it'll be down to the last five. You'll leave them do the fighting and carry on living until you're in the final two or three; then you poison them in their sleep. You win and come back to me. It won't be easy, but it'll work." He spoke slowly, and Finch felt her tears dry up as a mixture of awe and hope seeped in.
"How did you—"
"You think I haven't thought about you being reaped?" He still gripped her shoulders and bent his back, so that he was at her eye-level.
"Listen, these capitol—"He glanced behind him, and kicked the door shut. "Pigs are going to get what's coming to them-"
Finch gasped. It was ludicrous to be speaking like that. He could easily be shot.
"And all we have to do is survive the next couple of years. When you win, we'll live at the mansion, but as soon as the rebellion spreads to here, we'll move to district twelve, where most of the action will happen." He stared at her, watching her reaction.
"They'll kill you if you talk like that!" She hissed at him.
He stood up, but Finch grabbed his arm sleeve. "Don't do anything stupid, please." She begged him. "Promise me you'll be careful!"
Someone shouted thirty seconds from outside.
Her brother smiled and kneeled in front of her. "I think I should be telling that to you." He tried to joke, but his eyes were watering. He blinked and reached inside his pocket.
"Oh before I forget. It's in here somewhere." He began rummaging around in his pocket, looking more and more frightened before a look of relief swept across his face and he took something out.
"I thought I had forgotten it! Anyway I want you to have this. As your token, okay?" He dropped something into Finch's lap.
It was a necklace. It was made from thin twine, and a tiny glass box hung from it. Her brother always wore it, from as long as Finch could remember he had had it around his neck.
The thing that was so special about it was what was inside the glass. A tiny purple flower was dried and stood in the box in its pride of place. District 5 was solid concrete, or so it seemed. The only thing that Finch had ever seen grow was nettles and other weeds. Flowers were virtually extinct in District 5. The flower necklace was, as a result, incredibly valuable.
Finch began to shake her head. No, no she simply couldn't take it. But her brother fiercely closed her fingers around it. Before she could say anything he gripped her and hugged her. It was so tight it hurt, but Finch hugged him back. This could be the last time she smelled his old socks smell, the last time she felt his t-shirt scratch against her chin.
The peace-keepers knocked on the door, indicating time was up.
"Promise me you'll listen to your head, okay?" He stood up and looked down at Finch.
Finch paused before nodding. "I promise."
He nodded, and ruffled her hair like he had done when she was younger, before striding out, glaring at the guards on his way out.
It was only when Finch was alone that she realised that while she had promised to be careful; he had not promised her anything.
