PART TWO: The Sea Glass Games

The Capitol - Scores

For the rest of the night, my nightmares orbit around the idea of Annie drowning; in the fountain, in the ocean, or because she's drugged and can't swim. Drowning is an unpopular way for a tribute to die in the Hunger Games since it's essentially action-less, but the pure irony of a District Four swimmer drowning might be enough to entice the Gamemakers to try it one day.

Everyone but Ophelia is suffering from dark circles and slumped shoulders at the breakfast table. Annie has yet to arrive. I guess she's still out cold.

Ophelia tsks. "How much sleep does she need to recover, anyway? Today is your private session with the Gamemakers! We can't waste it!"

I take this opportunity to scold her for supplying Quincy with the pills in the first place, to which she grows sullen and quiet. For once. Mags gives me a look that says I was too hard on her, especially considering her particularly delicate nature, but I don't really care right now. Because of her poor judgment, Quincy got a hold of potentially dangerous drugs and could have inflicted serious harm on Annie. She's already scarred enough by these Games as it is, what with Nath sexually harassing her and the impending threat of sudden, violent death on the horizon. She doesn't need her brother drugging her on top of all that.

Annie doesn't come down until around noon. When she does, she immediately heads for the food, piling her plate high with delicacies. Then she sits down and starts eating, blinking up at the rest of us when she realizes that we are all staring at her. "What?"

"Are you...feeling okay?" Quincy probes carefully.

"Yes, except for the big cut on my foot," Annie replies, stirring her food around. "What happened?"

"You cut your foot on the bottom of the fountain," Quincy says.

"Yes, I remember that. But after?"

Quincy seems reluctant to relinquish too much information. Probably deciding whether to tell her the truth or not. "You fainted and I dragged you out of the pond."

Annie nods, as though this aligns correctly with what she can remember. "And was I okay?"

"Yes," I interrupt before Quincy can say too much. I don't want him overloading her with the truth. She needs to focus, and all that the truth would be a distraction. "The doctor said that it was exhaustion and to let you sleep it off. You overworked yourself."

"Oh. That makes sense, I guess. I'm fine now," she adds to assure us, shoveling more food into her mouth. Quincy gives me a look, an awkward mixture of relief and anger.

Ophelia butts in. "Good. We've got to get you caught up. Today is the private session with the Gamemakers, so you must get in an hour of training - "

"Ophelia," I snap, interrupting her. An hour of training? What good would that do, at this point? And who decided that rule anyway? "I think Mags and I can handle this, thanks."

"But the schedule - "

"Is unimportant at this point. We don't have any time to train. Besides, we wouldn't want to wear them out, right?"

"Right..." Ophelia says, wavering.

Mags cuts in. "Sponsors."

"Yes," I agree. "Why don't you go look for potential sponsors while we discuss the private sessions?" That way you'll be out of our hair, and we'll be out of yours.

"But we haven't even gotten the scores yet!" Ophelia cries.

"We can't be too hasty. We need as many sponsors as possible. You know what they say: 'The early bird gets the worm,'" Quincy adds.

Ophelia surrenders and scampers out of the room, leaving just the four of us. I lean back with a sigh, relishing the momentary quiet. Then I turn my eyes to my tributes. "So...what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe chuck some weights around, throw some spears," Quincy says with a shrug. He won't stand out from the crowd with that material, but he's big and fit enough that he won't need to.

"What about you, Annie?" I ask.

"I have no idea," she admits, looking hopeless.

Go for every-day approach. "What did you do on your father's boat?"

"I haul in fish. Gut them. Things like that," she says. Immediately my thoughts flash to a net, and then a knife. Two formidable weapons when used separately; together, though, they are virtually useless.

I decide to go offensive. "Gut fish? You must be pretty handy with a blade then, right?"

Annie shrugs, which is absolutely no help at all. Mags grabs a knife off of the table and hands it to her. "Show us," she orders. Annie takes the knife and studies it, turning it around in her hands. Then she throws it at the wall and it sticks, but unfortunately it falls a few seconds after. She might be the first person in the history of the Hunger Games to get a one for her score, if she does that for the Gamemakers.

"Well," I sigh, "I guess you'll just have to wing it."

"Wing it?" she repeats.

"Yes. Don't worry, you'll know what to do when you get up there." I hope.

"And if I don't?"

I give her a look. "Do anything you can to show them that you can survive. That's what they'll be looking for." And it's the best advice I can give. Because behind all the ceremony, the Hunger Games are nothing but a fight for survival.

Annie and Quincy leave for the private sessions an hour later, faces pale and nervous. I leave for my next appointment. The woman has a jacuzzi that spurts bubbles of every color, consistency, and scent. I think of Annie the whole time. The image of her drowning keeps leaping out from the back of my mind, flashing behind my eyelids like a neon sign.

The woman, Devina, wraps her arms around my waist as I dry off and buckle my belt. "Are you sure you have to go?" she murmurs, pressing her lips to my shoulder. Her slender fingers trail down my stomach until she's reached my belt buckle, holding my hands to stop their progress. "You don't want to stay for just a little bit longer?"

"Duty calls," I reply, taking her hands and absently placing them back at her sides. I pull on my shirt. "I'm hoping District Four will have a tribute this year."

"Well, I'll certainly be a sponsor," Devina promises, crushing her body against mine. "If I can have just one more kiss..."

Her mouth moves hungrily on mine. Her lips taste like sugar. She nimbly begins unbuttoning my shirt, but once again I stop her progress. "I'm serious. I have to go," I say. Devina steps back with a pout, her thin silk robe slipping down one shoulder, clinging to her wet skin.

"Fine," she begrudgingly permits. "I'll be watching to see your tributes' scores. I'm sure they'll be spectacular, with you as their mentor."

"Hopefully," I mutter, ducking out of her home. The hotel where we are staying is only a few blocks away; instead of taking the limousine, I jog there. It seems like the locations are getting closer and closer to the hotel where the others are staying. I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

I make it just as dinner is being served. Quincy threw some weights around like he'd said he would. I'm honestly more curious about what Annie did, and a little apprehensive when she explains.

"Harpoons? That's what you showed them?"

"Yes," she replies with a shrug. "When Quincy and I went whale hunting with our father once, I was a natural with harpoons. It was a long time ago though, and I only went with him once. I didn't even notice they had harpoons until I walked into the private session."

Probably confused them for spears, I think. I wonder how well she really could have done, only practicing with her weapon of choice once before. And there's also another problem. "If you're good with a harpoon you might have gotten a decent score but...it's unlikely that there'll be any harpoons in the arena," I say.

"Whatever," she says nonchalantly. "I don't need a harpoon to survive."

"I'm sure you don't," I say, the beginnings of a smile nudging the corners of my mouth up. Even without Quincy, Annie probably could survive for a fair while in the arena. She's resourceful, quick on her feet, and smart. Now winning on her own...well, that might be a bit of a stretch.

My gut clenches when I think of her dying. Once again, the haunting image of her struggling in the water flashes across my mind.

We get the scores after dinner. The tributes from One, Two, the girl from Seven, and Arthor all get in the eight to ten range. The others get from four to seven. The lowest score, a three, is awarded to the boy from Twelve.

Quincy gets a seven. Annie gets a nine.

The others cheer when the screen goes black, applauding the two of them for their fair scores. Annie seems to be in a state of shock. A nine. She did better than the girl from One. She did better than a Career.

Quincy scoops her up into a elated hug. Over his shoulder she looks at me with wide eyes, but her message can't be clearer. She's terrified that her better score will change my mind about the promise I made to her, about my promise to keep Quincy alive in the arena.

I wonder when she will realize that all my promises are meaningless.

This chapter was a little shorter, but it was only because I took the beginning of it and added it to the last chapter. It started out super long. I don't know what happened, but the next chapter they're practicing for the interviews and such, so it'll probably be a little longer. In all honesty, this was more of a filler than anything else.

Thoughts?