Author's note: Sorry for the wait guys! But here's the next chapter.

And... THE CATCHING FIRE TRAILER IS OUT.

I was very sad that there was no shirtless Finnick, I have to say.

It's only a matter of time, though.

Read and review and make me happy?


I feel so guilty.

We're sat around the television, waiting to hear mine and Zen's scores. Training is over, and I haven't really been talking to any of the others of our team lately. Haven't been eating much, either. Everything with Seth has me so freaked out, even more than the fact that I have to go into the arena in a few days. Each training day he would find little ways to scare me, despite my efforts to hide and ignore him. Finnick must know something's wrong with me, why I haven't been talking to him much. I have a few days left to live, and I've been too quiet. I should be talking to him as much as I can, while I can.

But I can't. Because I'll blurt it out if I do.

Ceasar Flickerman is on the TV screen that we're watching. I drift out of my thoughts as he explains the scoring process, thinking back to what I did in there. If anything, I should get a one- if I'm lucky.

I walk into the room, nervous and fidgety. They are paying close attention to me, probably wanting to see what the weak little girl can do, and I just stand in front of them for a moment. What are my strengths? Of course, I can tie knots and make fires and swim, but that doesn't help much. I also know how to weave things- bowls and nets but I'm certainly not strong, and I can't use a weapon. There is one good thing to being tiny, though; I can hide properly.

I look around the room; it is just a bigger version of the training room. I grab some rope and begin tying the most difficult knot I know, one that Finnick can't even do, and throw it to the ground when I have made it. There is no way the game makers would be able to undo it, even if they wanted to.

Then, as the game makers start looking bored and begin talking to each other, I tip toe to the shelves of weapons. I squirm until I fit between them, and crouch down, my body mostly camouflage.

They aren't paying attention to me, they don't even notice. When they look back down to see what I'm doing, I'm not there.

"She left?"

"Where'd she go?"

"Get me some more wine."

"Tell the peacekeepers."

Then I stand up, pushing the shelves out of the way and crinkling my nose as I hit my elbow. I squirm back out of my spot and stand in front of them. "I wish you had a pool, here. I love to swim." I tell them, and they all looked puzzled, like they don't quite understand how I fit in that tiny spot.

Without another word I leave the room, going back to my own.

And now we're here, sitting on the couch, watching the scores.

When I told Finnick what I did, he hugged me and laughed a little. He told me I was good at hiding. I told him I wished there was an ocean in that room, and that I wished I told the gamemakers that I could beat you in any swimming race. He just chuckled. I think he's trying to stay strong and as happy as he can for me; if I were to see him break down and cry, I don't know what I'd do.

Seth's picture comes up on the screen, and I pull my knees closer to my chest. He makes me cringe, everything about him. His score is a ten; so is Crystal's, his district partner. Gemma and Carter, who are our other two allies, receive an eight and a ten. We have a very strong pack this year.

I rest my cheek on my knees as I listen to him announce District Three's scores. A five and a seven. I wonder what the boy did to get a seven.

Then it's me. "Annie Cresta," He starts, and I sigh. "With a score of… four!" A four is bad, but it could have been worse. Finnick wraps his arm around my shoulders and I snuggle into his side. The look Zenner gives us almost makes me laugh; he looks like he's about to throw a fit.

"And Zenner, also from District four, with a score of… nine!" They cheer for him. Finnick cheers for him, proud. I just smile. A nine. He's deadly. My best friend, my not related by blood brother, could be a murderer in a matter of days. The wave of nauseous comes over me again and I bury my face in Finnick's neck, inhaling. He smells like home. I wish I could go home.

Finnick helps me stand up, and I say goodnight to everybody. He helps me back to my room, but I stop him, holding onto his hand. "Can I sleep in with you?" He glances over his shoulder before nodding at me and leading me to his room.

Once I'm there, I change into some of his clothes. I love sleeping in Finnick's clothes, they're so comforting. The first night I ever stayed with him, I wore his clothes, and it just sort of stuck. That was almost two years ago, and it's hard to imagine being awkward around him now.

"Why so quiet?" He whispers once we're snuggled up in bed. The sheets are fluffy and soft and warm.

I don't want to talk, still. Despite how safe I feel.

"You can't expect me to be happy, Finn.." I whisper back, and he runs a hand through my hair. Why can't I just stay right here, in his bed, with him, forever? It's what I want. I don't want to go into any arena.

"I didn't say that. It's just odd, that you're not talking to me… You've been quiet lately, Annie…" I curl up closer to him, shaking me head. I don't want to talk. I just want to lie here. "Okay." He finally gives in and sighs, and the comfortable silence settling between us once more.

I sleep soundly for the first time since I left home.

When I wake up, I realize it's the day of our interviews. Tomorrow we have one more day to gain as much knowledge from our mentors as we can, and then we go into the arena the day after tomorrow. I have a feeling that me and Finnick will spend tomorrow curled up in bed.

Our escort bursts into the room, letting out a squeal at the two of us smushed together in his bed. I gasp and fall out of the bed, and Finnick groans, throwing a pillow at the woman. Almost immediately she begins to scold him, telling him he isn't allowed to sleep with his tributes.

Why does everyone automatically assume that about Finnick? They have no idea what he goes through during his time in the Capitol, no one does, not even me, so they have no right to judge. With a quick kiss to Finnick's lips I leave the room, wanting to escape the arguing.

Almost immediately I'm took into the hold of my prep team. They tell me that it's going to take most of the day to get me ready for the interview, so they get started immediately.

We had discussed our angles over dinner one night. I'm going for the sweet and innocent angle, of course. I need to look weak, helpless, and adorable, so that's the plan. Zenner is going for the protective, rough look.

I'm not surprised with the way I look once I'm done. I definitely look more like me this time around- my hair is down and curly, a water braid weaved into it, preventing it from falling down and into my face. There is barely any makeup on my face, except for some stuff on my eyes that make them look extra wide. The dress I'm forced to wear is one that I adore, for once; it reaches my knees, and it's blue. A little sparkly here and there, and it when I move, other shades of blue are shown. It makes me look like water, only not very extravagant at the same time.

On my feet are white shoes, that look a whole lot like the ones Ivory used to own, which are now mine. Or were mine. Before I know it tears are filling up my extra wide eyes, and I try desperately to stop them. I've been trying to bottle up my feelings and hold my tears in lately, even though it may not be the wisest thing to do. But I can't help it right now.

"Hey now, no crying," I hear a voice from behind me, and flip around so my back is to the mirror I was looking in. Zenner stands in the doorway, wearing a blue suit. He looks dashing, and we're matching again. Why do we always have to match? It seems too couple-like.

"These shoes, they're like Iv's," I lift my foot up to show him. Pain flashes across his face, and he nods, not offering any words. I wonder if he had made a promise to Ivory about getting me home. I hope he didn't.

"You're going to be okay, Cresta. Now come on, we have to go," He says after a moment of silence, holding the door open for me.


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