I'm working on another chapter right now… sorry, updates really shouldn't be so slow. /: I'm trying harder!

Annie POV

My prep team shapes and cleans my nails and painfully brushes and styles my hair before my stylist will see me. I have no idea what I'm wearing for my interview, but hopefully it'll be… pretty. Stand out, in a nice way. But it's an impossible wish for any tribute. I sigh. My angle for the interviews is strong, sly. I'll act secretive but hint that my training score was just a plot to help me survive longer. Nothing compared to the Careers, but it's a start and it's decent. It's hard to think about what my mother is feeling – I hope people are taking care of her, no doubt she's cracked from my training score. She's lost hope. It's sort of unbelievable that all of Panem knows who I am, will be watching me… tomorrow. What do they think of me, my score..? The other tributes, too.. I certainly scored lower than anyone else, so all the 'weak' Districts can breathe a sigh of pride and relief. Careers are already targeting me, this will make them even more eager.. I brush away my insecurities – it's true that in the big picture of things, whose opinion really matters besides my own and Finnick's..? It's the Hunger Games, and how I hold myself will be with me forever… into the after-life, if there is one. In the minds, however forgotten and distantly, of those few close to me.. forever.

My angle won't get me number one onto each potential sponsor's list, but I will be in the back of their head. If I survive the blood bath, which I'm almost positive I can, hopefully they'll pull me out. I haven't planned my strategy yet, but so far I've figured I'll have Dorien flee towards whatever forestation there is while I try to go for supplies. My years of swimming have made my legs strong, so running, though I don't enjoy it, isn't my weak spot. I'll try to get my hands on a few weapons – combat weapons, a knife or a spear – and supplies. Then Dorien and I will hide out in the woods and try to avoid conflict. It's a risky, fault ridden plan. But what are my options..? As soon as Dorien dies, I think I'll take out myself. Try to last as long as I can and when there's only a few of us left I'll do it. Or if things are going wrong, I'll try to quickly end it myself. It's a respectable way to die – I decide the terms of my own death. It won't do any wrong to my family. They wouldn't hurt them: They need my father, he's a strong worker, and my mother is too far gone to be of any use to them, to bring them satisfaction. Nobody knows about Finnick and I, apart from Mags and my mother… I hope. I don't want to be killed by a slow, painful spear to the stomach. I don't want to have to have Finnick watch my killer. If they win, there's no doubt he'd try to get revenge. And even though he's beloved, famous Finnick, there's no way it'd end well for him.

Thoughts, forbidding and sad, swirl around my head for the few more hours I'm worked on by the prep team. Finally my stylist comes in, colorful and despicable, to put my dress on. It's slipped on easily, and doesn't require any pins, effort or pain, unlike what I was expecting. My stylist is smiling in success, but I'm disgusted as I peer at myself in front of the fancy mirror. My dress is a longer repeat of my carriage ride dress. It's tan, ripped fish-net, covered with aqua glitter. The net is completely ripped over my private parts and flimsy, colorful sea shells cover substitute it. Intricate water, fish, shell, and swirl designs are painted all over my body in blue and green, and I'm given a mass of pearl and shell stringed necklaces, bracelets, and anklets to put on. My nails are also covered in glitter, and braided in my hair is shiny blue and green cloth and sea-weed. My make-up is as intricate and colorful as the designs over my body. I'm stunning, but so flimsily covered. I'm only 16 – and perverts in the Capitol, and the Districts, for that matter, have the full right to gawk at me. It makes me uncomfortable, and especially embarrassed… Finnick. He'll see me like this. The idea sends butterflies into my stomach, and before I have a chance to react I'm being shuffled down the elevator and to the stage. We're all herded out and the tributes form an orderly line onto the stage and into our seats. I try not to let myself get nervous, but my palms sweat and my feet tap. I try to find Finnick's face in the crowd, and it's easy. He's located in the front of the victor crowd – he shoots me a coy smile and a wink. I try not to pay attention to the other tributes – no use comparing myself to them now. I keep my eyes on Finnick, and though I know he's feeling just as nervous as I am, he smiles at me and keeps his lovely eyes bright and reassuring.

Soon it's my turn. I glance at Finnick one last time before heading towards Caesar. I walk confidently, showing off my outfit while still remaining respectable. I know thousands of eyes are on me but it doesn't bother me. As I plop down in the plush seat, I mentally prepare myself for questions. They're mainly about me, the Capitol – I hardly think before answering questions, I just get it over with - all the while keeping my eyes on Finnick. I answer confidently, cleverly. I keep a smirk on my face, as hard as it is. Then the question I've been dreading comes: "Tell us about your training score." Caesar's voice is a mix of sympathy and pity, and it angers me. "Oh, that," I wave my hand and laugh coldly, smirking. "I don't think anyone should discount me for it..." I laugh shortly, bitterly. He doesn't have time for the answer as my time runs out, and as I get back to my seat I smirk at the Careers. I'm not really proud – it's an act. It is. But it's an act that'll help me.

As I glance back once more at Finnick, the smile never leaves his face… reminding me that everything will be okay.