Nightmares had haunted her ever since the day she had escaped the Arena. It was a regular thing. It was something Olive had begun to expect when she went to sleep. Recently, however, another problem had been included in her nearly sleepless nights.
Terrible coughing fits.
After her visit to the Capitol on the Victor Tour, she had grown used to having them during the day, but they got worse at night. It was painful, and the burning sensation that left never truly disappeared. In anyone's mind, that would be enough to worry about. Perhaps even go to the district doctor, if they could afford it. In Olive's, it was a tad different. The pain was nothing compared to how loud she felt the coughs became at night. What really worried her was the fact that she was loud and startled her family.
Every night, before the numbing pain began, Olive would sneak out to go to some remote room, where no one could hear her. Her most frequented was the bathroom. Although, on the days when her skin felt like it was burning, she would go to the backyard to cool down. Going to the beach, or perhaps the woods, would be infinitely better not to get caught, but her body lost all strength and reason before she could make it to the front door.
The first day that she made it to the beach. The first day that she felt like she had got over the coughing without bothering anyone else. That was the day that, for the first time in two months, she was found out. By no other than Finnick Odair.
Her mother had warned her when she was very little. Life is filled with strange coincidences. That's what she used to repeat, like a prayer. There wasn't a day her mother wouldn't point out something, saying she had seen it in a dream. It was never a consistent thing. More like an idea. That was why Gianna had always felt forced to remind Annie and Olive that such things were only fairy tales their mother created to bring them happiness.
Olive had never been sure, but she knew her twin had for a long time believed their mother's stories. — Love as the centre of a revolution. Two teenagers fighting for what was right. Those same kids' family deaths only maximising their bond and love — Contrary to her, Annie took longer to understand why a tale like that could be dangerous to say out loud or even to be mentioned.
"Everyone has a gift. It's up to us to find it and develop it into a blessing." It amazed Olive how she could remember her mother's words so clearly, yet she couldn't remember a thing of her time in the Arena, or the Victor Tour, before reaching the Capitol. "And I, personally, enjoy bragging about how I got three of them, and another on the way."
Olive chuckled at the memory, opening her eyes to stare at the night sky. There was something magical about it, especially from the beach. Her rationality could tell her it was the same sky she saw from anywhere else — the woods, the victor's house, her home — but it never felt like it was. The beach, though chilly and far too wide from what she was used to, had a fairy tale approach. Something, she was sure, her mother would be proud of her for thinking.
"Again here?" After visiting the beach frequently, Olive had begun to expect that voice.
"Blame my nightmares, Finnick. Not me." She brought her jacket closer, pulling her sleeve over her hand to cover her mouth as another cough irritated her throat. "What about you? Did you get your daily dose of nightmares already?"
"I did." Finnick sat down on the sand beside her. "Look, Olive, if you want to talk about—"
"No, Finnick. I'd rather not talk about that right now." She interrupted him in a low tone. "Just . . . talk to me about you. Anything, please. The . . . the training with Annie and Theo. How's that going?"
The last thing Olive wanted to hear, or talk about, was the Reaping. Her nightmares had involved losing her sister multiple times in the past months, and, being so close to the date, less than four hours away, made coping difficult.
"Theo's great." Finnick's swiftness to understand her thoughts had been mastered with time, to the point he could read her with her expressions alone. "Last week, he begged me to teach him how to handle the trident, and he's good with it."
Olive raised her head, locking eyes with her friend. "What about Annie?"
"The spear works well enough for her," Finnick said. "She's way better at remembering poisonous berries than fighting, so she still has a great advantage. Not everyone has to try to pull off the menacing look. Annie could never."
"Yeah, I know." She smiled at him, though a frown quickly replaced it. "They . . . they won't be picked, right? I mean, Theo was already called last year. And Annie . . . she . . . her name's there eleven times . . . the odds—" Olive sighed, clasping her hands in front of her mouth. "The odds have never really been in our favour."
Finnick doubted, his eyes glancing from the water to Olive's eyes. "Is there anything I can do? Comfort you? Tell you they'll be fine? Or distract you and make you forget about it until we have to leave?"
Unlike him, Olive did not doubt. "Distract me. Please."
He nodded and glanced back at the water. "I . . . When I'm in the Capitol, my . . . patrons, they keep comparing the colour of my eyes to the jewels they try to coax me into taking to make themselves feel better." From one moment to another, a rope was in his hands, knots appearing and disappearing effortlessly as soon as Olive blinked. "I had an idea during my last visit, but I'm not really sure if it'll work. They're the fine elite of the Capitol, so I'm hoping it will. Jewels and money . . . I'm disgusted at the sight of them now."
"Oh, Finnick," Olive breathed out, trying to control the pitiful tone her voice carried not to offend or hurt her friend. With an arm over his shoulders, she gave him time to hug her or keep still. He chose the first. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but, um, what was it? What did you come up with?"
"Secrets," he whispered.
The word stunned Olive enough to freeze her on the spot. She buried her face in the curve of his neck, trying to process all the potential outcomes of her friend's plan. Her hands gripped his shirt, which became an inconvenience as another cough forced her to let go.
"That could be dangerous," she said once the coughs had subdued. "But I'm sure you already know that. Just be careful, OK?"
"I will be. Don't worry." He promised, a smile forming across his lips as the sun peeked over the horizon. "It feels like it was only yesterday when I found you here. Trembling and gasping for air."
"Don't bring up people's dark past." Olive chuckled, rolling her eyes playfully. "And if I remember correctly, you were such an anxious mess, you were close to shouting for a doctor. Even though we were on the beach, and it was way past midnight."
"Oh, sorry. Next time, I'll just sit back and watch you suffer." He laughed softly while folding his arms over his chest. His eyes glanced at the water for a second, and then they were back to her. "But, hey, you know the one thing I haven't seen you do? Swim."
He left his rope on the sand, and took Olive's hand, getting her up on her feet before dragging her towards the water. She tried to fight, but it was to no avail. "No. Finnick. Water and I aren't friends. I'm not a great swimmer!"
"Then you have to learn," he said, pulling her into the water, stopping once the water reached their knees. "See? Not drowning, are we?"
"Shut up." Olive rolled her eyes, though her grip on Finnick's hand got stronger. "Can we go back?"
He blinked at her a couple of times, utterly baffled. "You're afraid of the water? I've seen you climb a tree up and down like it was nothing."
"Well, if I fall off the tree, I break my neck and die, or not even that, just a broken bone or dislocated shoulder. The sea . . . drowning is just not the way I want to go, OK? It's freaky. I don't like it." She pulled his hand. "Please, let's go back."
"Olive, you can't hide from the sea forever. We're in District Four, honey. We're expected to be like fishes in the water." Finnick scoffed, though he tried to contain himself.
"Then I should have been born in Seven. Blame my parents, not me." Finnick pulled her closer, making her step deeper into the water. "Come on, Finnick. My trousers are already soaked, and it's cold. Can we go back?"
"The water is not going to bite you. Besides, we won't go that far. Your feet will touch the ground, and I got you." He smiled comfortingly. "You won't drown. Trust me a little, OK?"
"OK," Olive breathed out. "I mean, while we don't walk too far off, it should be alright. It's not like the water's level is going to rise suddenly to the point it covers our heads . . . right?"
"It won't. Unless—" His smile changed to a smirk as he splashed her with water, making Olive gasp and freeze. "Oops."
Olive ran her fingers through her hair, taking the soaked strands out of her face. Her eyes raised to look at Finnick, who was barely keeping himself from cracking up. She raised her eyebrows, keeping her straight face for a second. That distracted Finnick enough time to pay him back by splashing water on him, which left him soaked.
"I declare war." He said.
"And I accept the challenge." She replied.
The sun was up, and the reaping was a couple of hours away when the pair decided to call for a temporary truce. As they declared, once the Hunger Games were over, they would be back and resume the fight, which both were confident of being close to winning.
Victor's Village was a short walk away from the beach, which made sneaking around without being seen infinitely easier. Olive's eyes couldn't help but glance at Finnick's hands as they walked. He was tying knots on the same rope from before, almost like he was so used to doing it that he didn't have to stop to think about it for a second.
Finnick walked her to the front door as usual, giving her one last hug, which this time lasted longer. His hand gripped onto her soaked shirt just as much as hers did with his. Despite knowing that they would better head to their own houses before being found out, the comfort the other's presence brought to them was difficult to let go of on such a day.
"I'll see you after the reaping." Finnick was the one to let go, holding their hands together to give her a reassuring squeeze. "The first year mentoring is always more difficult, but at least we'll be together with Muscida and Mags."
"In all the history of Panem, there's only been one District that has managed to get back-to-back winners. So it's likely both our tributes will die, right?" she asked, needing no reply to know the answer.
"Yeah," he breathed out, holding her hands tighter without realising. "But we'll try. We'll give our all to bring one of them home."
Olive nodded tiredly. "I'll see you on the stage, then." Forcing the corner of her lips to curve upwards did not help her strong and brave cover. Not after her hands gave her away by shaking. "Wait for me before doing anything stupid, OK?"
"Always." He promised, playing his own fake smile across his face once he let go of her hands, so both could walk to their respective homes.
The first thing Olive did once in her house was to have a shower. After all, appearing on live television all around Panem in drenched clothes would only give her trouble. Strangely enough, her family was still asleep by the time she got out of the bathroom. It wasn't until she was cooking breakfast, and there was only one hour until the reaping, that her family appeared in the kitchen.
"So you'll be in the Capitol until the victor is crowned?" Her father asked for the fifth time that week.
"Yes," Olive answered simply. "If it's not from our District. If it is, I'll have to be there for the Sponsor's party and all that crap."
"Well," Gianna glanced from Annie to Theo, trying to remain hopeful as she said. "District One has back-to-back winners. Four could have that, too."
"Maybe," Annie muttered, her eyes not leaving her plate.
Theo ate half-heartedly, not paying attention to what he was doing in the slightest. Olive knew her little brother wasn't so little anymore. He was thirteen. Capable of understanding how unlikely it would truly be for another District Four tribute to be crowned Victor.
Out of fear, Olive, their father, and Gianna stuck like glue to Annie and Theo for the following hour until the reaping, when the family got divided. Olive hugged her twin and kissed Theo's temple, while their father and Gianna immediately went to hug both of them, and then kiss their heads.
"I'll see you in a few weeks," Olive promised Gianna and their father as they hugged.
"Take care." Her older sister kissed her temple.
"Get back soon." Her father caressed her cheek, then walked away with Gianna to the surrounding area filled with the family members of those kids in the town square.
Not much after, the Reaping began, and, from her position next to the rest of the victors, waiting to be called, Olive watched it all unfold. The lecture, the presentations, and the long pauses made everyone want to yell at the mayor to speed things up. They would rather know already if their family members would be sent to die, instead of stretching the suffering for minutes with no end.
The mayor began calling all District Four victors, one by one. From the eldest, Mags, Clem, and Rhett, to the youngest, Finnick and Navin. As she walked on the stage, Olive made a mental note to begin the process and change her name once she was back. She didn't despise her given name, but her mother's taste in names was infinitely better than her father's, as she had demonstrated time and time again with Gianna, Annie, and Theodore.
With every Victor present and in place, the mayor moved on to introduce Piscia, whose outfit had more glitter than any other Olive had ever seen her wear. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"
At the faint claps as a form of a reply from the crowd, Piscia smiled awkwardly and moved on. "Ladies first!"
She crossed to the glass ball with the girls' names. Her hand reached down, picking one slip of paper out of the ball like a magnet attracting another. The sound of her heels filled the entire town square. She stood in front of the microphone for a second, smoothing the paper, reading it, and, which devastated Olive, giving her a pitiful look before announcing the name.
"Annie Cresta."
Olive's eyes watered, air not reaching her lungs. It was horrible, devastating even because she knew she hadn't heard wrong. Her nightmares had come true, her twin was going to the Games. No one would volunteer for her, not after having a victor from the previous year. No one was reckless enough to risk their lives when the odds of winning were close to none.
"Come on up, dear," said Piscia.
Annie walked up the stairs to the platform, her eyes stuck on her twin as Piscia took her by the shoulders to make Annie stand next to her on the podium. Neither twin was crying, though they wanted to.
If only the cameras weren't around. If only she hadn't won the year before. If only. Perhaps. Maybe. Olive's mind came up with a hundred different scenarios in which Annie would have never been forced to suffer. All in the second that Piscia took to ask for volunteers.
No one did, just as Olive had already expected.
Olive's mind shut off for the entirety of the Reaping left. She didn't hear the male tribute's name, nor see what age they were. It was bad enough to know her sister would be sent to the Games, to the Arena. The place of her nightmares, which, even if Annie managed to survive, would never do in good conditions. Who knew how surviving would affect her? Who knew what kinds of thoughts her sister would have? What if Annie woke up after nightmares, just like her twin, wishing to have never survived at all?
Only the anthem could snap Olive out of her thoughts, though not too well. She followed the other victors inside the Justice Building, seeing as Annie was taken to say goodbye to their family. Away from prying eyes and cameras, Muscida took Olive's hand and guided her to a side room, where they would wait until it was time to go to the train station. More or less a few minutes before the tributes themselves.
Closing the door behind her, Mags was the first to engulf Olive in a hug. The mumbles were faint, and her mental state was not great, making it difficult for Olive to understand the elder. If it weren't for Finnick, she would have simply nodded along without bothering to ask Mags to repeat her words.
"She'll survive," Finnick repeated after Mags, though added his own thoughts. "We'll make sure of it."
"Finnick . . . Annie . . . s–he—" Olive choked out, barely able to say anything correctly after she put her hands over her mouth to keep sounds from coming out.
"It's OK." He brought her close, hugging her with one arm as the other stroked her hair. "She'll be fine. We'll get her out of there, you'll see. We'll save Annie. Doesn't matter what it takes. I promise."