AN – Sorry I haven't updated in a while bleh… I've been on holiday and then busy with school, but I wrote 6 chapters while I was away but I've lost them all. :/ I'll try update quicker now!

CHAPTER FOUR

Training starts early again with no real words formed between me and Cal other than mutters of good morning. There's nothing really sour between us, so when Cal decides to leave to train alone with Mags, he tries to make it quiet so I won't notice and so he's not deliberately leaving me to hurt my feelings. I do realise, though, because Finnick has already got a frown set on his face that takes my attention.

"I don't know what's happened with you two," he says. "But it best not damage today's training."

We start at the fire making station. Easy. Or so it seems. I can't light a fire with the twigs, leaves, bark and grass provided because I have to look over at Cal every few minutes. He's excellent with the spears, so he goes there, naturally. He throws them at the targets that light up quickly and never misses a single one.

"Focus," Finnick orders, snapping his fingers to apparently snap me back to reality. I roll my eyes at him and stare at my flop fire. He expects me to be perfect at this, but the reality is; I'm not. I never will be. But it's not just the fires that I'm terrible at, though this seems to be the worst.

"Can we go now?" I whine after what seems like ages at the fire station. He drops my failed mash of what was supposed to be fire and stamps on his own (he did try to show me how it was done many times) before nodding.

Knives. They're not my strongest point and I definitely need work on them, and my hands are already shaking as I pick up one of them. I let out a nervous laugh. I can feel the careers staring at me, willing me to throw the knife well.

"You're too good at this, Annie," exclaims Finnick rather loudly. He laughs, too, taking the knife from my hand before I even have the chance to study my dummy target. "Let's move on. Don't waste your time at a station you've already perfected."

"Finnick," I try my best to hide my scowl as he leads me over to what reminds me of a children's climbing frame, like the ones fathers used to put together out of wood and whatever other scraps they could find, just so us kids could have fun, before we had our childhood snatched from us. I have to admit, coming here is a good idea, because so far, I haven't had any practise at climbing, which may come in handy with the amount of trees I know will be in the arena.

"Don't worry about it, Cresta," he says. He's frowning again, noticing something behind me. I go to look but he grips my shoulder and pulls me back around, obviously not wanting me to see whatever he has. The cool of his little finger ring sends a chill down my neck and then spine. "We'll be able to train with the knives again tomorrow at private training."

I nod, forgetting all about what he saw until I turn around casually. He tries to stop me again but my eyes already notify what's in front of me.

Cal. The careers. Together, laughing, chatting as if they're old friends. They're talking about something that is beyond me, but the little career, who's a girl around my age, flashes me a quick smirk. I don't like it. I don't like them, and Cal shouldn't either. At all. They're too vicious for a kid like him to be getting messed with. They could easily rip him to shreds and use him in the arena.

"Finnick!" I desperately let out. "Where's Mags? Shouldn't she stop this?"

He shrugs in response, leaning against the metal of the climbing frame. My hands are too sweaty to start climbing yet, besides, there's a line that I have to wait behind while a scrawny boy has his turn on the bars that run across the top of the frame. "Maybe she was tired," he says, sticking up for his old mentor. I stare at him in disbelief. "I told you not to worry. Your turn is coming."

I'm still staring at him, but he doesn't notice as he sticks out his tongue in concentration, watching the girl who is making her way skilfully across the bars now. She's very, very pretty, so there's no wonder why he's staring. I roll my eyes. "Confidence is the key," he whispers, and I see the girl show the careers a grin as she slips through some of the bars, still holding onto the bars carefully, and swings for a few minutes before she quickly finishes her go. We move forward more in the line.

"Finnick," I frown. "I need to see–"

"Well then go!" he yells, pushing himself off the frame and dusting imaginary crumbs off his clothes, glaring at me. It shocks me enough that I step on the boy's foot behind me, but he doesn't seem to mind, as he blows off my apology, watching the next boy have his go on the bars with so much concentration that I doubt he even felt the pain of my heavy boot on his toes. "Just go. Go. But I guarantee you you'll make the worst decision of your life if you go over there now. Pairing with careers is never good. Except, maybe, for one person."

"Of course you'd know," I step away from the climbing frame and walk over to an easier station. The plants. He follows reluctantly and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up but still managing to look stunning. His frustrated eyes are clear and they shine through the light of this hall dazzlingly. It's hard not to blush around him. "And I know you don't think it'd be me if I did pair up with the careers," I sink to my knees next to some water weed by some realistic looking running, fresh water that makes a beautiful sloshing sound as it passes the manufactured, but again so realistic rocks.

He ignores me and we finish off naming the plants on a little metal screen that is on the wall next to us, finding out which I can eat, which can clear stings and which I should avoid, that sort of thing. He smirks a few times as I desperately run through names of water flowers in my head, trying to get their names right. I should remember them from years spent down at the sea.

By the time we've finished spears, knots – I'm already an expert being from a fishing district but it's still good to practise – and had at least a go on the climbing frame (I wasn't actually terrible thankfully), Finnick's returned to his usual obnoxious self.

As we walk back to the lift, he pops a sugar cube into his mouth and crunches on it annoyingly and so obviously on purpose. I cross my arms, making him just eat more, with him finding the whole thing hilarious. Jerk. He would find it funny, wouldn't he?

"You're so irritating," I mutter, leaning against the cold wall of the lift. "Why do I have to train with you and not Mags? It's so not fair." I'm extra annoyed because I feel like I got no work done today. I just want to throw knives, preferably at Finnick if he doesn't shut up eating his teeth-rotting-cubes.

"Why stop now?" he asks, playing around with loose sugar on his outstretched palm. "I've got limited time left to get on your nerves, I want to make the most of the time I actually have left."

It's basically Finnick's way of telling me he thinks I'm going to die. He shoots me a smirk and a wink, pulling out a bag from his pocket and fumbling with it on his hand. As the door opens for our floor, I snatch one of the sugar cubes from the little bag and march to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me for extra effect.

…

Mags is the only one keen on keeping the conversation running at dinner time. "So how was training today?" she asks. I wait for Cal to answer, mainly because I want to hear his account of the careers and what else he got up to, but Mags says my name first.

"It went okay," I say, eyeing Finnick anxiously. I have the feeling that he's already disappointed in me. Instead, from beside him, I see Cal gulp almost guiltily.

"Okay," Mags nods, seemingly unsatisfied with my answer. She turns to Cal. "How about you, dear?"

Even Finnick tenses up now. I still have no idea where Mags went during training, maybe about getting sponsors like Finnick should have done , and like most of the other tribute's mentors would have been doing. But if he was out getting sponsors, he wouldn't have helped me, and I would have been alone, vulnerable with the careers.

And I wouldn't have known any better to walk away from the knife station.

"Like Annie said, it went okay," he says as if we actually trained together. Both Finnick and I frown. He must be thinking the same as me, because he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, speaking my thoughts that I'm too cowardly to voice.

"How are the careers?"

"Finn!" Mags warns. Her voice goes calmer, but still stern, as she says, "Leave him alone. But … wait, what? What do you mean the careers? What happened when I left? Is there something you need to tell me? Cal?"

All eyes are on Cal now. I want to thank Finnick, but at the same time I don't. Cal is just so little and just as vulnerable as me if not more and cute. Except he has got the careers on his side now assumingly and that makes him deadly, not adorable.

"Okay," he repeats, delving into his stew with his spoon hungrily. He doesn't say another word as we watch him, dumbfounded.

Finnick is the first to make a noise after a quiet few minutes. He stands up, his chair noisily scraping along the floorboards. "I've got to go," he says. "I'll see you in the morning, Annie, for one-on-one training."

"Wait!"

I shouldn't have said it, but I can't deal with him leaving. I actually kind of need him. Cal blatantly hates me and I can't have a conversation with Mags without her snoozing off or me getting bored. We have nothing to talk about. I'd rather have Finnick annoy and tease me than sit alone all night. When I'm alone, I think too much. And all that I can ever think about when I do have the chance is my family, the sea, Four and so on.

Mags and Cal carry on eating as I dab my mouth with a napkin and follow Finnick to the door. He shuts it over and I cross my arms over my chest, feeling helpless.

"Where are you going?" I ask casually. "Are you going to get me some sponsors? You know, get my name out there or something." I already know where he is really going, but it's worth a try.

"You'll have plenty enough time for that when your score's out and on interview night," he says. "I'm sorry, Annie. I am. Really, but I can't stay."

"Okay," I say and watch him walk away from me and towards the lift.

I don't particularly want to know where he's going; I just wish he wasn't. I don't want to get involved in his love life, since it has nothing to do with me and never will, but I'm curious about how he can just throw himself at these girls like he doesn't have any respect for himself.

I brace myself to go back to the dinner table and eat my stew while steadily ignoring the tears in my eyes. I feel like one of Twelve – with a useless mentor who doesn't care about me. Not even at all.

AN – Uh sorry for this chapter … let me know what you thought?