I literally wish I had a better excuse for why this chapter is decades late other than the fact that I am complete trash.

But I don't, so my condolences.

Chapter 10
Waving Goodbye With Hot Chocolate

Dear Finnick,

It's one in the morning and I've come to the conclusion that it is really hot in my room. I can hear the buzzing of the air conditioner we (finally!) got in the living room, and I'm mentally begging some of that cold air to come seep into my bedroom.

I'm probably just fixating on how hot it is because I'm utterly dreading waking up tomorrow…if I end up falling asleep in the first place, that is.

I don't do first days well, Finnick. But you knew that already.

I think that's what makes it so scary. You'll finally get to see just how bad first days can affect me.

You're coming in the morning, on par to pick me up and deposit me in the one place that's been haunting my dreams for a good week now.

If only you understood how much of safety net you're going to be for me tomorrow.

Gosh its really hot…

Yours,
Annie

Monday came as swiftly as a guilty child beckoned by the finger of an impatient mother.

I tried to stall it, I really did. I even opted out on anything Finnick had planned in favor to spend my hours staring at Charlie's fish bowl, because I was convinced the weekend would move more slowly that way.

Nothing hits home more that the first beeping of the alarm clock on the morning of school.

The good news: this year I won't have to wake up as early as I used to because Finnick insists I ride in with him and Johanna in the morning; which means no bus in the morning. The bad news: I'm waking up three hours earlier that I should normally be just because Finnick insists I should today.

It was tradition among Finnick and his friends to wake themselves up at ungodly hours and drive to a coffee shop before school opens, to count down the last hours of summer with caffeinated beverages and pastries. Upon being asked to partake this year in the tradition, I was, at first, sort of upset that he'd never run it by me before. Then I realized it really wasn't a tradition for me, but more for his other friends.

And then I realized I really have to stop categorizing us as "other friends" and "me".

He picks me up first, at about four in the morning in his blue pickup truck. I step into the cab with blasting air conditioning, despite the slow crawl of the heat waking up the street. I'm not even nervous anymore, due to the fact that I can barely hold myself up on my feet and sleep is the equivalent to a wet dream for me right now. I can barely see through my eyelids and he chuckles at me. I curl up in the passenger seat of the cab as he drives quietly through the half-sleeping houses. His truck sputters through the streets, until he stops at Johanna's house. She half climbs, half throws herself into the back of the cab, mumbling nonsense and sprawling out over the entire backseat. Finnick turns the music up louder and she flips him off. Second, we pick up Gale and Katniss, who live literally one house apart. They jump in the back, not as fazed by the early morning hours due to both their summer jobs as camp counselors, and their routine morning hunting expeditions.

Incidentally, its Peeta's family who owns the bakery that they sit in and wave goodbye to summer each year, so I'm told that is the last stop in this early expedition.

We all fall from the truck like gelatinous monsters as we climb towards the bakery's doors. Johanna practically has herself slung over Katniss, who's grumbling about the dead weight on her shoulders. I slip my hand shakily into Finnick's, hoping I can pass for tired enough to not fully understand what I'm doing, when really the added comfort of his touch helps me soothe the nerves bubbling under my skin. He doesn't seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn't say anything. The tiny bell perched on top of the door chings when Gale shoves open the door, and we spill into the room with the alluring scent of cinnamon and coffee grounds to help pull us in and slap us awake.

They lead me to a booth, and by the looks of the magnetic pull it has on them, I assume this is where the magic usually happens. I slip in between Finnick and Johanna, and I try not to think about how this looks exactly like the time I saw Finnick and his friends at The Harbor, way back during the Chair Incident. I try not to let the tingly feeling of finally being apart of something hit me too hard.

I look at the wooden table top, and notice various carvings and pen marks that read, "Peeta smells! -Katniss" and "Goodbye, Summer '08!" Some of them are in Finnick's scribbly handwriting, something I haven't seen in days. It's weird when you're so used to something that it feels foreign when you don't see it for a long time.

Peeta shows up out of nowhere with mugs clumped together in his fingers and scoots in beside Gale, effectively scooting Katniss up against the wall. He passes out the respective drinks, but suddenly freezes when he gets to me.

"Crap! I'm sorry, Annie…I didn't get you anything…" He looks majorly upset, his puppy eyes crinkling as he frowns, "I, err, don't really know what kind of coffee you take…"

"No, it's fine!" I smile, holding up my hands, "I don't really drink coffee."

I feel deflated all of a sudden. Like I'm an outside entity as I watch everyone sip on their coffee, made gingerly by their friend. Of course I don't belong here. Finnick makes slurping sounds with his coffee and bumps my shoulder playfully.

"Well, you have to have something." He presses, smiling at me. The steam from his coffee blows up into his face, "Hot chocolate? Bread? I gotta say, Peeta's buns are the best." He winks at the blond who barks a laugh in return.

"I agree!" Katniss adds, raising a hand and an eyebrow as she sips from her mug.

Everyone laughs and I deflate more. I'm in the mindset now that I don't belong, and I know it's horrible to keep putting myself down like this, but I can't stop. I feel like I'm watching from the outside, instead of tucked in the middle.

"So, hot chocolate? I'll go make it," Peeta's up and through the door that leads to the back kitchen before I can refuse.

Though I reserve the thought of drinking hot chocolate only when there's a foot of snow on the ground and I'm curled next to a fire, rather than in a town where temperatures crawl to egg-cooking-on-asphalt highs, it's still nice to have something in my hands instead of just watching everyone else drink.

No one talks, which is surprising for the group. They just exchange looks, sip coffee, and look out the window. The street lights flicker out one by one as the sky turns into a light blue, as if someone were adjusting the hue of the atmosphere. The conversation started to perk as the fingertips of the sun stretched yellow through the street.

"10…9…8" Johanna starts to count down, eyes trained to her watch.

When she got to "three", everyone held up their mugs.

At "one", they whispered, "Goodbye, summer."

The school, Capitol High, consists of thousands of bodies all packed in one building. Finnick's town is split respectively into different districts (Finnick and I being in the 4th District, Johanna the 7th, and Gale, Katniss, and Peeta being in the 12th) and Capitol High is the only high school in the area that allows all different kids from each of the districts in. So if you didn't want to go the high school assigned to your certain district, then you could apply to Capitol High and hope you make it on the list. I was able to transfer in thanks to my near perfect attendance, discipline, and academic record from my previous school.

Sometimes it pays to not have a social life.

Finnick pulls up around the side of the building, displaying a large student parking lot packed with cars of all makes and models. He parks Tessie up on the far end of the lot and everyone takes it as their cue to get out. I watch other sleepy students slink out of their cars, meet up with old friends, and make their way to an entrance.

Once my feet hit the pavement and my backpack sits on my shoulders, I freeze. Panic trickles through my bloodstream; my heart pumping it through my body because some stupid part of my brain insists it should. I can hear Katniss and Peeta talking about something around the back of the truck, and I have no idea where Johanna ran off to and suddenly the looming school building appears more of a warped coffin than my right to an education.

A shoulder presses against mine as Finnick leans against the side of the passer door with me, looking out to the general area I probably just was. He looks calm, like a soldier prepared to fight and deal with the consequences.

I probably look like a cow going to slaughter.

"Just imagine everyone in their underwear."

I look at him curiously, and judging by the smirk he's probably kidding. He breaks eye contact to scan the stragglers pouring their way into the only entrance from the back parking lot.

"Just so you know, I'm wearing boxers. If that helps."

I'm flushed before he even finishes his statement, "How would that help?"

"Saves your energy trying to figure it out. Its all about the imagination…"

I don't even realize this easy (yet strangely awkward) conversation has lead me from the truck to the back entrance until Finnick's holding open the door for me and I'm suddenly emerged in a beehive of teenage activity. I'm one part shocked because I didn't even realize he was walking me to the door until it happened, and another part terrified because strange faces…everywhere.

Finnick slinks his way past me to lead me into the building. His hand finds mine somehow and he's pulling me gently past the bodies of people who are positive its okay to act like a human blood clot in the middle of an area reserved for walking. I'm practically flush against his back, almost flat tiring him a few times with the tips of my shoes against his back heels. I just don't want to lose him.

I'm numb right now. I don't think I've processed it all; my minds more on the mode of getting from point A to point B as effectively as possible, and as my feet get the blueprints on how to do this, I'm constantly moving and never stopping.

Its as if we are one mind in sync, because even though people try to stop him to say hi or pat him on the back or hug him he never ceases movement; just keeps walking with a plastered grin and an occasional greeting like: "Mark, my man, what's up?" "Cindaaaay! How was the internship?" "Kyle, bro, saw your new ride out back. Sick!"

He makes sure I'm still going. It may be because he's afraid that if I stop, I won't have the nerve to keep going.

That could be true…

I don't realize Johanna's flanked behind us until I accidentally bump shoulders with someone passing the other way and subconsciously turn to catch who it was, only to almost collide with Johanna.

"Keep moving, keep moving," she says, lightly brushing my arm. She says it as if it were encouragement.

Maybe it was.

Keep moving, keep moving.

The hallway is a maze, and after four turns, I'm officially positive we're going in circles. Everything looks the same.

We come across a large set of double doors, painted a deep red and upon pushing them open, we're dumped into what seems to be the riverbed of people. There has to be at least 300 people in this cafeteria alone, all lounging on tables and clumped together in packs of 15-20. To my horror, Finnick's pulling me to one of the more larger clumps crowded around a collapsible table.

"Jo, hang back with her?" He turns and gestures to me as if I weren't there, and Johanna nods, her eyes shining with a sharp purpose. She grasps my hands and pulls me aside to one of the more less populated areas of the room.

I focus on my breathing.

A guy shouts across the room. Someone's laughing. I'm sure it's at me, even though I'm just standing there doing nothing.

Finnick returns with three manila envelopes and distributes them evenly among us. My name is written out in beautiful cursive script on the side of it. Before I have a change to open it, the two of them are ushering me back out the way we came. They pull me through more mazes and I begin to pinpoint a pattern. The crowds thin the further we go, until eventually what was a steady stream is now a trickle of a few students. They pull me to a staircase, where Katniss and Peeta are sitting together, talking. Finnick whistles and they snap their heads up as if caught in an intimate embrace.

"How'd you get here so fast?" Johanna whines and plops down beside Katniss. They tear open their envelopes together.

"Beat the crowds," Peeta boasts, smirking triumphantly and waving his envelope.

"Half of who you saw were mostly likely freshmen, probably more confused and scared than you were." Finnick explains to me, "We're in upperclassmen row now, so that means less chaos and more salvaging time before we actually have to go to classes. Give me." He plucks the envelope from my hands and lifts the flap. Pulling a sheet of paper out, he studies its contents and whistles. "You seem to have gotten lucky this year, Ms. Cresta."

He hands me the sheet and I study it carefully. It's a list of my classes and homeroom teachers. The numbers for the rooms are as good as trying to read and understand Braille to me; it's obvious I have no idea how to get to any of them. I don't understand the luck Finnick was talking about.

Johanna is up and pouncing on Finnick's sheet as soon as the top half the page is visible from the envelope, and she huffs and sighs as she hands it back, "I thought we were going to be in the same study this year!"

"That was before I was told I needed to complete Spanish II in order to get an acceptance letter from any college ever." He snatches the paper back and shoves it in his back pocket, not even bothering to look at it. "Besides, I rather sit around saying, puedo ir al bano, than attempt to play flag football any day."

The bell rings and everyone gives a collective groan. Finnick hooks his arm around mine and before I know it, he's towing me back into the direction of the crowds.

"Consider me your personal guide for the day, Annie." He smiles charmingly at me and I smile nervously back.

My only concern is if he'll be willing to do it again tomorrow…and the next day…and the day after that…

Getting through the crowds a second time was as horrible as going through it the first time. Not much more to add except crippling fear and the warmth of Finnick's side. I also noticed a few questionable gazes and envious glares from girls (and boys) who noticed the connection of our arms.

We ascended an almost hidden stairway caught to the side of a fork in the hallway, and before I know it he has me stopped before a classroom. I glance at my sheet.

Number 256, Intro to Trigonometry, Mr. Abernathy.

"I'll admit, not the best start to your day," Finnick wrinkles his nose and unlinks my arm. Students skirt past us and lazily open the door to enter. "But sometimes old Haymitch is exactly what you need to get through the day. He's funny like that."

His words almost go in one ear and out the other, because I'm too busy staring at the faux wooden door to listen. Finnick's hand lands on my shoulder, warm and tender, and I glance up at him curiously.

"Hey. I'll be right here the second the bell rings." He promises with serious, clear eyes. "I'm right down the hall. If you feel it's too much, just ask to go to the bathroom and walk right by. I'll meet you at the end of the hall and we can officially ditch, okay?"

I nod shakily. He pats my shoulder and I watch him swagger down the almost empty hallway. With a deep breath, I push the door open. Eyes look over curiously, but drift back to their original placements before I even walked in. Students are scattered in their seats, telling me it's a pick-your-own-seat kind of deal. I choose far corner, second row in – my go to seat. I find teachers, especially math teachers, rarely travel to that end of the room and its easiest to blend in there.

Mr. Abernathy sits tiredly in his seat. I can see the bags under his eyes from here. His dark coal-like hair is mused and his gray eyes are glassy and exhausted. He's fiddling with something and I lean a few degrees to my left to catch what it is, but can't see from behind his giant desk.

The bell rings and stragglers hurry in, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as they pick a seat to sit down in. If he notices their tardiness, he doesn't say anything, as he gets to his feet with a painful groan. The object he was fidgeting with was a piece of chalk, and I watch as he scrawls his name on the blackboard with a jagged script, the result of a shaking in his hands.

"Alright," his voice is gruff, almost brewing with unresolved anger, as he scratches the stubble on his chin, "Everyone get up and take a book." He gestures to a stack of Trig books on his desk, and almost robotically everyone rises from their seats. I find a happy medium – middle of the line; easiest place to blend – and try to ignore the way he's staring at us as he leans against the black board. There's a sign out sheet beside the stack and I scribble my name and book number quickly and try to get back to the safety of my desk.

Once everyone is seated, he gruffs a quick thank you and starts to write page numbers on the board.

And so begins sophomore year…

Like promised, Finnick's at the door the second the bell rings, and is waiting as I stuff everything into my bag. He doesn't bother waiting outside the door, though, and instead comes right in.

"Haymitch, looking as dashing as ever this year!" He beams, walking coolly to my desk, and helping to hand me my books.

"Finnick." Mr. Abernathy nods, "I thought I was finished with your hide. I gave you that extra few points last year so you would specifically not be back this year."

"All in good sport, Haymitch! I get to share the pleasure of my presence with Ms. Pall this year down the hall. The wonders of pre-calculus!" As soon as my bag is zipped and slung around my shoulder, he offers me his arm. I take it gratefully and we exit the room. "Spanish II, here we come!"

Our Spanish class is located on the other end of the school, and we barely make it in time. Like Mr. Abernathy, though, the Spanish teacher doesn't seem the care. She's typing on her computer, while an overhead fan spins methodically, working to only swirl the humid air around rather than cool the room down.

Free seating is offered here as well, and Finnick pulls me to the back, where two open seats amazingly remain. As soon as his butt hits the chair, a girl with striking blonde hair to his left twists and taps his shoulder.

"Finnick!"

"Oh, hey, Glimmer." He smiles politely, and they delve into simple chatter.

I put my notebook I've designated for this class on my desk. Then my pencil. Then I fix the notebook so it's corner to the desk. Then I spin it. Then I repeat. Finnick still talks to Glimmer with vigor. The room fills. The teacher's manicured nails tick, tick, tick on the keyboard.

The bell that signifies the beginning of the period rings and the Spanish teacher rises from her chair.

Its not even second period and I'm ready to go home.

Lunch time in school has always been my hell. It's too late for me to change that at this point. Finnick couldn't walk me to the cafeteria, since his lunch period was the one scheduled after mine, but he gladly pointed out detailed directions and I managed to find it pretty easily.

I skip the lines that were forming halfway around the room to instead try to find a table. Unlike at my old school, this school has a grand patio where students could take their lunch outside. I find a good spot underneath a shaded tree, but the heat of the day still manages to seep its way in and out of my pores.

It was quiet here; I could think here. I sink against the rough bark of the tree. The day is only half way over and I'm already bone tired. It's exhausting to have a mind that tricks you into thinking you need to be alert of everyone and everybody at every moment.

"Excuse me this is upper classman seating, sophomore." A voice calls and I jump, but relax slightly when I notice it's only Johanna, a plastic tray in her hands and a coy smile on her face. She wastes no time sitting beside me. "I guess we're lunch buddies this year. Figured they wouldn't put me in the same lunch period as Finnick this year, considering what happened last year."

"What happened last year?" I ask, pulling my knees up to my chest.

"You ever see a food fight? Like, a real one? Not in the movies?" She asks as she forks a mouthful of lettuce from her salad into her mouth. I shake my head, and she talks with a mouth half full, "Well, neither did we, so we started one. A big one, too. I'm pretty sure everyone was picking potato salad out of their hair for weeks after that."

"Wow."

She smiles cheekily at me, "We're just a damn menace to society."

I don't know what to say to that, so I vouch on saying nothing. This is where my real people skills come in – meaning that I don't have any. If Johanna notices, she doesn't seem to care, because she fills the quiet effortlessly.

"So what were you doing all the way out here? Figured I'd join you, since you looked damn lonely."

I shrug, "It was nice out so I decided to sit outside…"

"Bullshit. It's hotter than Satan's armpit out here." She fans herself and takes a sip of her water, "Please don't tell me you're one of those girls who don't eat."

"I'm not hungry today, that's all." I blush and look at my knees.

"Okay…"

It's quiet again, and Johanna doesn't attempt to fill it. I glance at her and she's staring at her food with a concentrated look. She looks up at me suddenly and I jump at the intensity of her stare.

"Do you not like me or something, Annie?"

I'm stunned by her question and I don't answer at first. I swallow and shake my head, "No. Definitely not…um, intimidated maybe?"

She blinks, and then slowly smiles triumphantly, "Intimidated?"

"Yeah," I huff, "well…I didn't think you really liked me. Like I was going to steal Finnick from you guys or something…"

"Nah, I'm just a tough person to get to know." She hums, pushing her tray away, "And…I guess you're partially right, but also wrong. It's not like I was afraid you were going to steal him, but more like you were going to hurt him." She eyes me seriously again, "I don't know if you know this, Annie, but girls come and go in Finnick's life. Most just use him. We thought you were just temporary."

I nod quietly and stretch my legs out. I stare at the tips of my sneakers before I answer, "That's understandable. I thought I was just temporary, too."

She makes an annoyed sound and I glance at her, "The fuck?"

"What?"

"Cut that sad shit, Annie, because I'm definitely not going to coddle you with it."

"Excuse me?" I scoff.

"Have you seen the way he acts around you? It's clear he cherishes your friendship. That's how I knew you were here to stay – and knew to give a damn enough to try to get to know you." She's up with her tray and off to throw away her trash by the end of the sentence, and I'm up and following her before I know better.

"I'm sorry." I murmur behind her and she glances over her shoulder. "I know it's kind of depressing talking to me and stuff, and I'm trying to do this right, I've just never met anyone who cares enough to want to talk to me." I wait for her to throw her stuff away and she walks to the exit. I follow with a lump in my throat.

"It's fine, Annie, it's just," she stops and leans against the wall, "if we're going to be friends, you've gotta pull the 'no one likes me' act, because its tiring. I'm here. Finnick's here. Peeta, Katniss, Gale...we all care about you. Okay?"

I blink. "Y-you all do?"

She groans, "Of course we do! Or we're going to. Like I said, if Finnick really loves you like he seems too, then you'll have no problem making friends of us too. We're all sort of a weird packaged deal."

I don't know why Johanna's validation of something Finnick's been trying to bang into my head for days sticks with me better. Maybe it's because I figured Johanna was a hurdle I had to face on my own – so her approval is something I thought would never occur. But I feel it; a concrete feeling for the first time that I belong somewhere. I'm accepted by the people I want to please the most – the people who care for Finnick the same way I do.

What a first day.