Annie
One more year, I told myself mentally as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Just this year, and next year, and you're done. I was seventeen that year, and almost free of the reaping entirely. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for Star, my best friend who'd been reaped two years ago.
I sighed as I remembered her, shuddering subconsciously while I washed my face. My dress was out on my bed, a bright blue sundress that had cost me almost the entire year's earnings. The tailor, Aqua, had asked me why I would bother wasting so much money on a reaping dress. With a smile and a mischievous wink, I had told her that I wanted to look pretty for Finnick.
Okay, I thought, brushing through my hair with my thin fingers, it's not like I lied. I'd heard rumors that Finnick Odair would finally be flying in from the Capitol to greet the tributes that year. Honestly, I was more nervous about seeing him again than I was about getting reaped. Because I'd never made it a habit to sign up for tesserae—resulting in undesirably sharp features and prominent ribs—I had next to no chance of getting reaped. Even if I did, victors in Four are so immensely glorified, so ridiculously celebrated, it would be likely to find a volunteer willing to take my place. I wove a water lily into my curls, then let my hair fall around my shoulders. I hadn't bothered to look this pretty in so long, I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.
Since Finnick had completely vanished off the face of our district, I'd made it a point not to get close to any guy. Not just because of the promise I made to myself, as well as to Finnick, but also because I wasn't ready. I was too young, obviously, and too immature. Whereas other girls felt at home doing each other's hair, dressing each other up, and gossiping for hours on end about the smallest of details, I was more comfortable casting fishing nets off of the pier and hauling my catch over the edge to trade later on in the afternoons. While girls wore skirts and dresses on a daily basis, and discussed marriage with their mothers, I was better off in my fishing overalls, my father's lucky fishing hat, as I haggled over every last cent at the fish market.
That would all change that day; I'd decided when I woke up. Thankfully, because I was always one of the best fishers in our part of town, the Peacekeepers let me stay in my father's shack near the beach, instead of sending me to those awful houses for orphans. It was isolated, but relatively closer to the town square—where it all happened—than some houses in the other part of town. I slipped into some hand-woven shoes, courtesy of Star's mother, and took one last look in the mirror, before walking outside.
I was only a kilometer away from the town square when I realized, I had no right of being so excited to see Finnick. Not only had he completely betrayed me in the Capitol, he'd even had the audacity to write a single letter to me, after years of no proof he was still alive, to tell me he'd found someone else! Well, not someone, I thought bitterly, biting my bottom lip to ward off telltale tears. More like somethree, or somefive, or sometwelve… He'd told me everything in the letter, although it barely sounded like something he would write. Of course, he was probably so busy with his girlfriends, that he'd gotten some Capitol goon to write the letter for him.
That bastard, I cursed, then smiled faintly at what my grandfather would call sailor's mouth. I bent down to pick up a stray bit of sea glass, which I stuck in the pocket of my dress, before continuing along up to the square. I could already see people—nervous teenagers, anxious parents, eager bidders—starting to assemble, and our escort Delphi stood, excited as ever, at the podium, vigorously shaking the glass ball containing all our names. I rolled my eyes as I took my place among the other girls. I could just barely hear snippets of conversations, and realized I wasn't the only one trying to look pretty that day.
"I heard he's finally back."
"Does this dress make me look fat? He'll never look at me if I'm fat."
"Don't you have a boyfriend?"
"Yes, but he's no Finnick."
"I hear he's always with a different girl."
"I wouldn't mind being his girlfriend for one night."
Disgusted, I clamped my hands over my ears. It was my boyfriend they were talking about! Yes, he'd become a notorious Capitol lover in a matter of months, but I knew he couldn't have changed in his heart. Somewhere, deep inside that entire blunt sex-god exterior, was the Finnick I'd known and loved—still loved. They couldn't be talking about him like that!
A hush fell over the crowd. Three guesses why. I turned to look at the stage, where, sure enough, Finnick was striding across to his chair. He looked shaken, nervous even, and his hair—so messy, natural, still a lovely color bronze—gave the impression that he hadn't slept well. It was probably the first time in a long time he was at a live reaping. I attributed his attitude to this.
During the mayor's everlasting speech about the famous Treaty of Treason, I was dazed by the way Finnick's gaze kept flickering over to me. Every time our eyes met, he turned away abruptly. I was internally conflicted; did I still love him or not? He'd been with so many girls in the Capitol, hundreds, many that I hadn't even heard of! What did it matter if I was in love with him or not? He had so many potential prospects, I was no longer up to his expectations, I guessed. But still, I didn't know if I was angry or relieved or lovesick or…or what? I was all those things. Angry, he'd traded me in for girl after girl after girl. Relieved, he was back. Lovesick, it was…well…it's Finnick Odair.
"The waves are high," Delphi piped up in her nasal voice, "as are the spirits. This has the making to be an unforgettable pair of tributes!"
"We cannot wait to see who they shall be!" a girl next to me groaned under her breath. I suppressed a smile; Delphi sure did know how to stick to her script.
"Without further ado," Delphi continued, unbroken, not taking notice of everyone mimicking her frustrating accent and her permanent dialogue, "I present to you the tributes of the Seventieth Hunger Games!" There was polite clapping from the side of the stage, where Finnick, his mentor partner Glacier, and the mayor were sitting. Delphi strutted confidently over to the glass ball, her sea-green hair flowing behind her. She gave us a cheeky, pearly white grin, before digging through the ball. Unlike other districts, we always began with the boys, if only to begin the reaping with a little excitement—since we usually had a wave of volunteers for him.
She clawed around for a bit before finally pulling out a small white slip of paper. She held it up, squinting into the bright sunlight (it's her own fault if she wanted the reaping to be at sunrise) as she struggled to read the name. "Sander Tide," she read triumphantly. I looked around, expecting to see a well-tanned, muscular teenage boy. Instead, out came a young thirteen-year-old, with pale skin, looking kind of weak and fragile. He normally wouldn't have affected me that much—I saw boy after boy get reaped every year—except for his eyes. Sea green, just like Finnick's. The resemblance was so strong I could barely hide my very audible gasp.
I watched with a pained expression on my face as Sander made his way up to the podium. For a moment, I felt like everything had frozen in time, like everything had just stopped. That's when I noticed the silence.
Where normally there would've been a crowd of boys volunteering for his place in the Games, now there was nothing but the salty breeze blowing past. I could tell Sander hadn't been expecting that, either, by the way he looked around frantically, willing someone to stand up for him, to alleviate him from this impending nightmare of his.
Finally, Delphi broke the silence as her heels clattered across the stage to lead Sander to an extra chair. "Well, well, Mr. Tide. What an honor, isn't it? To be chosen to represent your district!" She didn't pause to let him speak; instead she walked on, over to the glass ball containing the girls' names. Once again, she repeated the process digging through the glass ball, as if it made it different and she wasn't actually sending a girl to her doom. She finally pulled out a folded piece of paper, and once again, shielded her eyes from the light. When she read the name, at first it didn't process in my mind. It wasn't until a Peacekeeper nudged me with his gun, that I realized the horror of the situation.
Oh. That's me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys, sorry for updating so late in the weekend! I've been studying nonstop for my Social Studies exam on Tuesday (ugh) so I only had time to update this story. (Meaning if you read Facing the Ashes, I haven't updated at all this weekend.) Anyways, I'm almost out of school, meaning many more updates and more frequently!
As always, thanks so much to my reviewers, I love you all and wish I could send you guys flying bunnies made out of chocolate for reading my story! Love you all!
-TGBW
