All tributes are to report to the Training Center bright and early the next day, meaning I get the morning to myself. Unfortunately, there's not much to do in the Capitol where every single movement you make is being watched by either citizens, President Snow, or camera crews, so I resort to staying in and playing cards with Eura. I think we both enjoy the distraction, because although neither one of us says it aloud, being in the Training Center brings back haunting memories. I can't even recall the last time I picked up a trident, let alone wielded one. All I can think about is the three sharp metal points of the trident sent to me in the arena, the slick curve of the blades and how easily they cut into human flesh when thrown at just the right angle...
"Finnick."
Eura's voice pulls me back to the cool, marble surface of the table in front of me where cards lay scattered in various piles. I don't apologize; I only turn my attention back to the game and carefully place down another card as if never distracted. Eura doesn't ask any questions.
I make sure to be waiting outside the Training Room when Annie finishes her session. There's no denying that I've been bored all day and that the idea of seeing her ignites some part of me, but I also know that time is imperative and we must get to work prepping for the Games. There's an intense, burning feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me I can't disappoint her, not after that promise I made. No, we'll give her a real fighting chance in that arena.
When she finally emerges with the other tributes, Drift is at her side. They both are wearing matching maroon athletic wear, and Annie's hair is pulled back. When she sees me, her face lights up. God knows why that girl's face is lighting up when she's in a situation like this, but still there she is, breaking off from Drift and walking toward me grinning.
"Hello, Odair," she says.
"Ah, so I see we're still on a last name basis, then."
She shrugs. "I figured you already get to hear your first name enough on a daily basis."
I'm starting to really like Annie Cresta.
I know she wants to get down to business, though, so I press an arm to her back and quickly guide her back to the District 4 living quarters to discuss strategy. On the main couch, she curls up in a ball and holds a pillow close to her chest. I sit across from her to give her plenty of space.
"Okay, so first things first: allies. Obviously, 4 is a Career district, so if you want in with the Careers then you're in. No questions asked."
She pauses and stares downward while considering her options, and for some reason I just want her to feel comforted, so I decide to lean forward and add more quietly, "There always comes a time when Careers break off, and they can be ruthless, yes, but it can also be very advantageous to ride with their pack until numbers dwindle. It's a good way to guarantee you make it to at least the last eight to ten tributes."
At these words, Annie meets my eyes and gives a firm nod and a small smile. "If Drift is joining the Careers, then I will, too. I think I'll feel safer that way."
There's something about the way she says it, though, like she's only giving half her heart to the conversation. I try to brush it off.
"Okay," I say. "Good, that can definitely be arranged. Now, what about talents. Those Gamemakers are gonna want to see talent, so what can you do?"
Once again she pauses. "I'm a great swimmer."
"Ah," I say, rubbing my chin. "Well unfortunately, there are no pools in the training center. But that's good; it could come in handy in the arena. What else?"
It's only when she begins to pick at the hemming of the pillow in silence that I realize we're in trouble.
"Is there anything else? There must be something, anything you found you were good at in the Training Room," I say.
"Well, I'm an excellent fisher when I have a net. But I have no idea how to build one, or build much of anything for that matter." She slowly lifts the pillow closer to her mouth, as if trying to hide from the thought that her talents are minimal. Once again, I feel the need to comfort her.
"That's no problem," I say. "I can show you how to build nets, weave grasses, tie knots, all kinds of stuff. I think I even brought some rope with me..."
"No, that really isn't necessary," she starts to say, waving me back from standing up off the couch. "I don't even think that's allowed, is it? Really, don't bother."
"No, no it's fine, really," I assure.
Retrieving some rope that I use for knotting practice when bored, I sit on the couch next to Annie and walk her through several knotting techniques, then explain to her in the abstract how to build baskets out of grasses and turn knots into nets. She watches on and nods occasionally, though sometimes her smile comes across a little forced, and it can't cover the underlying sadness in her eyes.
"Wow," she says simply at one point.
"What is it?"
"Just... this is how you won the Games, huh? Being good at this stuff?"
This catches me off guard. I never expected her to bring up my Games, but now that I think about it, it's true that the only reason I won was because I could build a mean net at age fourteen. Otherwise I'd have no way of hunting down and spearing the other tributes. The thought makes me cringe.
"Yeah, I suppose so," I say.
She bites her lip, and in the silence I wonder if the conversation has ended, but then she asks, "What is it like? Killing someone?"
Again I'm caught off guard by her question, and I'm immediately drawn back into my memories to the time when the netting of my trap wasn't thick enough to conceal the young fearful eyes of the tribute held within. Which District was that tribute from? What was her name? I can't even remember now. She was speared all the same, just like the others.
"It changes you," I say simply. "You're never the same afterward."
"Would you do it again?" she asks.
Well, I guess there's no point in lying now.
"If it came down to it, yes. Yes, I would."
She doesn't say anything or turn judgmental; she only nods and stares off into the distance. What I'd give to know what she is thinking right now, and, as much as I want to deny it, what she thinks of me. It's a ridiculous thought, especially when I remind myself that there's a good chance that Annie will eventually just be another tribute whose face is projected into the arena sky. Suddenly, the thought makes me more uncomfortable than ever in my five years of mentoring.
"I'll make sure to discuss with the other mentors about ally negotiations tomorrow," I say stiffly. "In the meantime, make sure to eat plenty at dinner. You need to build up your nutrient intake for the arena."
Annie nods, but doesn't break her distant stare. I take that as my cue to leave.
Annie's quiet the rest of the night.
Through dinner and dessert, she doesn't say a word or look at me once. As soon as the plates are collected, she's in her room with the door shut. I have to fight back the urge to go knocking, continuously self-reinforcing that that isn't something mentors do.
No one else acknowledges anything wrong. It's only me.