He sat on a wooden bench against the wall, his eyes sweeping the room for nothing in particular. Missy Silvers had asked him to come, asked him to offer guidance after his "miraculous" win. It was three in the morning when she had knocked on his door and told him that he needed to come downtown right this minute and teach this year's volunteer a few things about the trident. He could see her in the corner, holding the trident by the very end of the shaft.
She threw a spear into the center of the target, her eyes fixed on him. She ran her tongue against the back of her teeth, trying to place him. She'd seen the face before. Around town, maybe? No, she'd stared into those eyes a million times and she could tell by his placid expression that he was tired of it all. Hadn't he won a Hunger Games? He was fifteen at most - she was fourteen and after four years of training could never dream of winning - but the experience was clear on his face. His sea-green eyes were as familiar as her brother's. "Isn't that Finnick Odair?" whispered the girl next to her, and Annie's lips parted slightly, because she knew it was.
He stood and slipped along the wall towards Sadie Aster, taking her hand. She opened her eyes wide and for a moment he was sure she would faint. He whispered, "Put your hands in the center of the shaft, right over left," and she obeyed, very clearly suppressing a squeal. He stood behind her, barely an inch taller than the girl, and put his hands over hers. It was all but impossible to show a girl who wanted nothing other than to pull you close and kiss you how to throw a trident.
She watched the spectacle: Sadie lost in his eyes, Finnick very intent on showing her. When Sadie let the trident out of her hand, one prong stuck in the bottom ring of the target and then fell, clattering to the floor with a rather unpleasant noise. Annie bit her lip to hold back a laugh. From ten feet, no one could be that bad at throwing a trident into a target. She tried again and again but wasn't listening to his instruction, only gazing into The clock in the square chimed twelve and as they all shuffled out of the door, she shot a quick smile at Finnick, and he smiled warmly back.
For just a split second, his eyes met hers, and as he smiled back at her, her cheeks blushed red. Missy stopped him before he reached the cobbled streets. "Finnick, I think Sadie is really going to grow with your guidance this week before she volunteers," she said calmly, a gentle smile on her face. She reached up to swat a mosquito from her face. "Good work, kid, I'm proud of you." She closed the door behind them and locked it, slipping the key back in her pocket.
Annie bit her lip until the woman walked away. "Sadie Aster's only here because she's rich," she remarked to Finnick. "She shouldn't be allowed to volunteer at all, but Lucia Katier broke her ankle so they took a random lottery." She rolled her eyes and sat against the building, producing a smushed tuna sandwich from her pocket. She unfolded the newspaper around it and took a large bite, watching Finnick slump down next to her.
"That's. . ." he started, with no plan to finish his sentence. "So who are you?" He took a sugar cube from his pocket and placed it on his tongue.
She shot a glance at him. "You just ate a sugar cube," she said, raising her eyebrows.
"Yes. . .I did," he said, the last remnants of the sugar melting over his tongue.
She chuckled. "That's. . .really odd," she remarked, pulling a strand of dark hair out of her face. "But I'm Annabeth Cresta."
The syllables danced on his tongue. "Annabeth," he breathed. "That's really pretty."
"And if you call me anything other than Annie, I will cut you," she broke in, shoving the newspaper back in her pocket. He smiled at her and she stood and rolled her eyes. "So why did you choose to watch me eat my sandwich and not Sadie Aster?"
"Well. . .because. . ." he tried to say but trailed off. They started to walk, but he stopped, looking down into her eyes. She was just different. She had the kind of determination no one else had. When she threw the spear, Annie Cresta looked like she was throwing that spear for a reason - a reason you might never know, never care about, but a reason all the same. "You're pretty?" he finished.
She chuckled quietly. "You . . . you are also pretty," Annie returned.
"I mean, Sadie's eighteen, and I'm only, uhm, fifteen, and. . ." he said awkwardly, and as they parted their separate ways, they glanced at each other and smiled, and they thought it might be the last time they would.
It was just past the break of dawn when all of the children swarmed in like a flock of birds. Like clockwork, at five-fifteen, they all took the weapons from their station and started to shoot, throw, and stab.
Annie glanced over at the corner of the room, where a trident was laid against the target. Sadie Aster was not here. With a thin blue ribbon, Annie pulled back her hair tight and wrapped her hand around her spear shaft. Sadie was supposed to volunteer in four days and if she wasn't here by five-thirty, the spot wasn't hers. Two minutes before the clock would strike five-thirty, all the heads were turned towards Sadie's target. The clock ticked loudly, overwhelming their brains, but the door didn't burst open.
Finnick came in at the last second, scanning the room for Sadie Aster. "Where is she?" he asked Annie as he passed her. She shrugged, adjusting her hand hold on the spear. Finnick crept along the wall to Sadie's target, and he took the trident in his hand. It was a light thing, nothing like anything you might ever find in an arena. If she did show up, Sadie Aster was dead.
Missy Silvers came through the side door twelve seconds before five-thirty. "Where's our volunteer?" she asked calmly, looking up at Finnick. He pursed his lips, shrugged, and picked up the silver trident.
Missy sighed. "You're kidding me," she said loudly. "Six days before the Games and I need to train another volunteer!" Everybody shifted awkwardly, not looking at Missy and her rage.
The trainer's eyes scanned the room. Her tongue ran over her teeth as she glanced from a sword-sparring girl to one landing knives in the middle of her target. She took brisk steps between the two and put an arm on each. Finnick turned away.
"Are you ever going to volunteer?" he asked. Annie looked up at him, startled.
"Uh, maybe. . .I don't know. It's not really my choice," she said, still fixated on the target.
"Well, that's not fair," he said back, running his hand down the smooth shaft of the silver trident.
"No, it's not, but I don't care." She wrapped her hand around the spear shaft again and threw it into the target, hard.
"You're good at this," he remarked, leaning against the wall of the training center.
"I've been doing it since I was six," she retorted, even though she really didn't mean to be so snappy.
"Mind letting me teach you the ways of the trident?" he joked, poking a hole in the outer ring of the target with one of the prongs.
"The ways of the trident," she muttered. "Might as well, since I don't see you sticking around for very long here." Then, she whispered, "Missy's kind of an ass after the reaping happens."
It was pretty much true - she stopped being nice and oh-so-supportive and turned into this training machine.
He put the trident prongs an inch from her chest and said just a few words: "Do you trust me?"
She nodded and smiled at him, because, for once, she might enjoy training.