CHAPTER 4:
And I Wrote The First Faint Lines
There was something wrong. Still.
Finnick couldn't really pinpoint the problem but there was this nagging feeling at the back of his head that even listening in his favourite class—Literature—seemed to be a burden. He tried to deduce that maybe it was because of the Capitol letter he received over the weekend and that nagging feeling was the fact that he didn't want to go back yet. Not after that five long months.
He also considered another realization as several girls looked his way. It was already a Wednesday, exactly a week after he had arrived at the school and yet he still can't quite fathom the wonder of the students—mostly women, he had to admit—as if he had arrived just now and sprouted some extra legs. He had enough District Guards' eyes on him (working probably on Snow's orders) to actually deal with the district women's smitten and tawdry gaze.
He weighed which one bothered him the most but it still didn't hit that right spot on his back—brain, chest, stomach?—that was throbbing with annoyance.
Maybe it was really Johnny who was sleeping unabashedly just in the seat right in front of him. He was drooling slightly and Finnick winced as his best friend and his wide open mouth was ruining a perfectly good poetry book laid open underneath, serving, if Finnick could take the thought, as a pillow.
Maybe it was really his literature teacher—Mr. Appalach—who, time and again, had been saying that he can't understand why there was a literature subject in the first place. Literature was just plain fantasy and that fantasy can't win them any Games. Finnick restrained to clobber his instructor exactly seven times. Linda Simmons tried to retaliate and said that 'literature is fun' but was soon reprimanded and was asked to be in detention later in the afternoon.
Finnick retraced his thoughts.
Linda.
Maybe it was Linda after all—that blonde, gray-eyed, so-called friend.
Linda went up to him earlier on and asked what had really happened at Brueler's Docks the other day.
"Something about Annie falling off the docks or something?" she asked.
Linda, even with her kindness and wit, was an ultimate blabber mouth. Finnick didn't want the entire district to know about his certain mishap at the docks and how, for the whale's sake, it didn't help him sleep or even eat that night—not when, of course, the lingering smell of lavender and sea water suffocated him in his own home. How the hell could someone emit such fragrance and lock it all up inside his house to torture him? She was there inside his house—about to apologize—for what, ten minutes? Five? Yet her smell stayed and clung to him as if he needed to be coated by it.
Ahh. There it was.
The annoyance intensified. The throbbing was now painfully at his temples and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Of course it was her. As it had always been.
Annie Cresta.
To make it worse this time though, as Finnick finally reached for his temples to massage it, she was not alone in aggravating him. Seated just directly on the other side of Annie, was David Gray.
And David dapper Gray seemed to be in the exact opposite disposition that he was in. Well, how could he not be overjoyed? He was the one who arrived at the school that morning, guiding (if not pathetically supporting) Annie as she climbed up the stairwell. He proudly led her to the questioning and shocked students, who for the first time, had taken their eyes off of him—Finnick—as he stood near the Lit room door and unfortunately witnessed the entire scenario.
Finnick, in consolation, did consider that Annie wasn't too enthusiastic with the idea of Gray being with her all the time. Yes, she seemed sweet and nice about the entire she-bang David was doing for her, but seriously, she was a Cresta. She didn't need any assistance whatsoever. Hell, if only David saw that murderous look Annie gave him that night when she came over to his house, Finnick would bet a thousand boats that Gray could finally take a hint and evaporate.
That was the thing, though. Annie hated his guts at the moment; maybe even forever. And unlike the sweet-smelling, lavender-filled fragrance she left in his house to simply torture him, this anger of hers seemed to kill him altogether. It only left Finnick with nothing but a large and disappointing fact:
Annie could not be his.
"Read the poem aloud, Ms. Simmons," their teacher bellowed at Linda who immediately flushed. "Since you said that you are particularly having a fun time in Literature."
Finnick saw her reach for her book and clear her throat with all the dignity she could muster.
Don't go far off, not even for a day because—because I don't know how to say it; a day is long and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together,the smoke that roams looking for a home will driftinto me, choking my lost heart.
Oh may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach; may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance. Don't leave me for a second, my dearest.
Because in that moment you'll have gone so farI'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,will you come back?
"It is so easy to distinguish what the poet was trying to convey, doesn't it?" Mr. Appalach continued, raising one of his bushy eyebrows. "Four particular letters so often used even a two year-old could spell it. So, for human beings like yourselves with a much higher level of intellectually capacity, I assume you all know it. Ms. Simmons? "
"Love, sir."
"Good. Now, Mr. Odair," the teacher now pointed at him, apparently not taking interest at all to any of the other students who were raising their hands—including Annie. "What do you think of this romantic element in the poetry?"
What did he think? What did he not think—abhor—about romance?
Finnick straightened in his seat and grunted, "Overrated."
"They're not together, are they?"
"When did that happen?"
"But I really, really, doubt that."
"I mean, Annie Cresta in a relationship? Pshh!"
Annie, followed by a sarcastic Linda, conveniently passed the corridor as if she was hearing nothing. That was the trick. Pretend you didn't care and pretend they didn't exist. Well, of course they exist, yet the notion of possibly be away from the people who talk about her, as if she was the one who didn't exist but happen to pass by them at the school's corridor, clearly made Annie realize that the world was indeed in the breaking point of insanity.
David was just being a gentleman! What was wrong if he helped her climb the stairs?
She had to admit, though, that taking her hand was a bit unnecessary especially when he did not let go a few seconds too long after she safely landed on the second floor of the school. Did she notice the opened mouths of the nosy sophomores? The almost touching eyebrows of the seniors? Or what about the angry glares of the few who had invited her out for the Bonfire?
She noticed but she didn't bother to react—as if walking alongside David Gray was the most normal thing in her everyday life. As she neared her locker then (with David still in tow), Linda, who was waiting by her own locker not far from hers, was wearing an expression not to be missed and be reacted upon. Annie wasn't sure if Linda was angry or sad or disappointed. But when David greeted her a good morning, Linda switched back to her normal self and even had a very nice conversation with him along the way towards their Literature class. Annie couldn't suppress the surprise, still, when David held her things for her as if a small poetry book and a fairly medium sized satchel was enough to obliterate her strength for the day. That went without saying that he asked, after she had taken her seat, if he could accompany her to the next class as well.
Annie didn't have the time to check if her best friend was gaping oddly again towards David but there was just nothing malicious whatsoever to what he had offered that she felt her head nod in agreement.
What was happening to her?
"All's fair in war and love, milady." Linda whispered beside her, keeping pace to her far more hurried walk.
Annie snorted but kept going and ignored the few more students looking at her. It was lunch time and Annie wanted nothing but a heavy meal to distract her from the gossiping students.
"Where did you get that, Linds?"
"We discussed that in class a few weeks back. Weren't you listening?"
Annie shrugged and pushed the cafeteria doors open. The blabbering and chit-chatting of the students halted for a second or so as she entered. She walked, with a head held high, as the student side-looked and followed her with their gaze. Seeing defeat that Annie wouldn't budge and get embarrassed, they went on again chatting as if nothing happened. But the twinkle in their eyes told Annie that she was now again the topic of their discussion.
"Is it really that hard to me imagine me be in a relationship?" Annie asked Linda as they lined up to the counter and, like instinct, ignored the green and mushy substance that was being rationed to their plates with a heavy glob.
Linda halted, eyes narrowing. "Are you in a relationship?"
Annie looked back towards her best friend with a scowl. "No."
"Then why are you so worried?"
Annie snorted as she lifted her tray. "Please, Linda. You of all people should know why I'm worried."
"No, not really."
"You see, there you go. No matter how much you deny it, I know that you know why I'm worried."
"Still a no, Annie." Linda sighed and gently placed her tray on the nearest empty table. Annie followed suit albeit placing her tray more deliberately that several people looked at them. Linda smiled apologetically.
"You are such a best friend, Linda."
Linda sneered and sat down. "And because you are such a dandy best friend yourself, Annie, you will help your oblivious best friend and explain to her what made a certain brown-haired, green-eyed, sexy vamp be in a foul mood when in fact the sexiest and most delicious twat in the entire school is crawling pathetically—if I can mention that—down at her foot and seem to be at a trance with the said vamp's gorgeousness."
Annie huffed. She gave Linda another scowl before rebutting.
"First of all, my mighty oracle, I am not a vamp. Whatever are you learning from our Lit class? That also happens to be my favourite class and I cannot remember anything about such analogies the way you're putting it. Vamp? Twat? Really, Linds? And second of all, you yourself have answered your own inquiry. I hate the attention, Linda Simmons. Look at them! Why are they making a huge fuss over this? It's just David."
Linda raised her eyebrows and exclaimed, "Exactly! You and David. David and You. Cresta and Gray. Gray and Cresta. It doesn't make any sense yet somehow it does! People can't accept the fact that two of the most gorgeous people in the school got together—"
"I told you we're not—"
"—behind their backs! I mean, of course we all knew this day was coming, it was just either David or Finnick, but I guess Finnick's gotten no luck—"
"W-wait, what's Finnick got to do with this?"
"—and David obviously got the upper hand now, but you see, people love the drama! Damn it, Annie, this is the best thing the school heard since the day the great Finnick Odair won four years ago!"
Annie looked at Linda, shocked at the sudden explanation her best friend had elicited. It was just between Finnick and David?
"I am not a thing to be possessed, Linds." Annie said gravely and caused Linda to wince and take a deep breath. She reached for Annie's hand and grasped it.
"Look, it wasn't supposed to sound like that. I didn't mean it. But hey, two boys fighting over you? In this world that we live in, Annie, that's the best you could hope for. That at least, some people are still willing to sacrifice so much just to have you despite the uncertainty of the future."
"But Finnick?" Annie frowned in confusion as Linda only managed to laugh. It was only a matter of time, though, before her best friend's laughter was disrupted by another voice.
"May I take a seat?"
Linda almost guffawed again and gave Annie one of her knowing looks. It took an enormous amount of patience for Annie not to kick her best friend from underneath the table.
So, pretending everything seemed fine and dandy—that it was not awkward by any means—Annie smiled at their new companion and scooted over.
"Sure, why not."
It was a Wednesday. Someone at least gave that to him. Wednesdays had never been his favourite day of the week. But couldn't someone give a damn to just make this particular Wednesday to be the same boring Wednesday he always had in his entire lifetime? What was with this Wednesday? The cafeteria was still serving the same, mushy, unappetizing glob for lunch, they had Mr. Grover's class, there were the piles of homework to be passed tomorrow, and of course, there was still the regular gossip mill led by the bunch of sophomores sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria.
Why should it be this Wednesday?
Why should it be, of all the days of the week where Finnick ought to be indifferent, invisible, uncaring and apathetic, should David-dapper-Gray be seated right next to Annie Cresta?
Was it also this morning that Mr. Dapper helped her go to class? The brutally honest thoughts of Finnick did not betray him. Yes. It was still the same day.
Damn.
But then again, tomorrow could be worse. Wednesdays were not the most romantic of days.
"So, I was thinking." Johnny tried to intercept his thoughts. Finnick thought it would've worked if his best friend also refrained from glancing towards the table where David and Annie (with Linda, gloomily picking on her food) were seated. "I want to ditch classes tomorrow."
She was smiling.
Finnick stopped his fork midway. Annie was smiling. Why was she smiling? Finnick would bet his entire winnings that whatever joke David told her, he got it off from the spiteful people in the Wet Market. Annie shouldn't be listening to such.
"Are you listening, Fin?" Johnny asked. "I am going to ditch classes tomorrow!"
Finnick was able to nod and started with his food once more. Seriously, after having eaten the Capitol's magnificent food, this was what the school was going to give him? It insulted him. Well, no, it's just that there were a lot of food to be prepared. Heck, they were a food District why can't... Annie can't eat all these junk.. or even Johnny or Linda...
"Okay," Johnny exhaled beside him. "Why don't you just finally run along and stab David on the face? After killing him—"
"Johnny..." Finnick finally groaned.
"... tell Linda to mind her own business while you kiss the life out of Cresta, and then finally—finally!—"
"Pearson, just stop..."
"... come back here and listen to me saying that I AM GOING TO DITCH CLASSES TOMORROW!"
Finnick raised an eyebrow as a few people near them also stared at Johnny, quite bewildered.
"Well," Finnick sniggered. "So much for not letting anyone know."
Johnny rolled his eyes and tore the bread on his plate. "It now takes shouting to get your attention away from her. This is bad. Really, bad."
"Shove-off." Finnick sat up straight and gave an annoying glance to the on lookers. "I barely looked at her."
Johnny choked on his food. "Barely? Barely? Have you seen yourself for the past five hours? The least you could do is to at least lessen the glaring."
"I was not glaring. I was just curious."
"Aha! You admit you were looking."
"Because I was curious!"
"You were not curious! You knew David and Annie could happen a long, long time ago and now that it finally did happen, you cannot accept it!"
"Oh shut up."
"You know what? You are right. You were not glaring at Annie. You were glaring at David, David and his dapperness seating one millimetre too close to Annie."
"Can we not have this discussion here?" Finnick replied coldly.
Johnny opened his mouth to once again retaliate but chose to simply roll his eyes and nod. That didn't stop, Finnick now noticed, the slight twitch from his lips signalling his success on hitting some of Finnick's nerves. Too many, if Finnick were to be honest.
It was just so easy to debunk Johnny and his self-implication of righteousness. But Finnick also knew of the risks. Johnny was already talking too much and he knew that they were listening. That he was listening. If Johnny and Linda were to provoke him again to be with Annie, then no one would be safe. Annie wouldn't be safe. And all he wanted to do was to keep her safe along with everyone else.
"Look," Johnny started, "I didn't mean to yell, but really, if you don't want to finally pursue her then at least move on."
"I don't even know what you mean." Finnick mumbled.
"Finnick—"
But before Johnny could even finish whatever it was he was about to say, something that was oddly and scarily familiar happened. It had been almost ten, eleven days since Finnick felt that same chilling sensation on his back.
The touch wasn't welcoming. The touch—the hands that were slowly rubbing his back, making their way to his neck, to his chest... it terrified him.
Cathryn Highburn, a senior like himself and Johnny, had her arms wrapped around him in an instant. Finnick didn't know if she felt his sudden immobility after she touched him, but it seemed that it didn't matter. She was already seating next to him, arms and hands still in place at his torso.
"Finnick..." she murmured in his ears. In front of him, he could see Johnny almost laughing if not resisting to raise an eyebrow. Like the best friend he was, Johnny looked away and pretended to find the green mash of food on his plate to be interesting.
"Cathryn," Finnick replied.
"What was the ruckus about? Why did dear old Pearson have to shout at you?"
Johnny snorted, but Finnick kicked him under the table.
"It's..." Finnick thought quickly. He looked around and accidentally landed his eyes on the table he longed dreaded. Linda had her mouth in a huge 'o' while David frowned, still chewing slightly. But the look and the expression he wanted to see and avoid at the same time was hers.
Annie was looking straight at him with a curious and unreadable expression. Finnick tried stop glancing back and instead focus on Cathryn but his eyes seem to have had a life of their own. They just wouldn't stop glimpsing back.
"... It's just a bad day." Finnick finished, finally being able to tear his eyes away from Annie.
"Hmm." Cathryn murmured again. "Maybe I can take your mind off from it?"
It was such a familiar offer. An offer he had heard ten times a day during his stay at the Capitol. It should have bothered him. It should have taken a toll in his concentration and he should have frowned and said no. But the reality of it was, as he remembered, as he reminded himself, that this was him—every offer must be accepted, every invitation should be attended, every request should be fulfilled.
Or else.
"Tempting." Finnick murmured back. Now it was Johnny's turn to kick him.
Cathryn giggled. Her laughter was a bit too painful for his ears. It was too high-pitched, too frilly, too excited.
"What do you say, five o'clock at my place?"
Finnick laughed. "Well, aren't you quite the vixen?"
"I try."
Johnny snorted again and rolled his eyes. "Please, you're still at school premises."
"Oh don't be such a buzz kill, Pearson." Cathryn eyed him. "Don't worry, you'll find a girl some day."
"Now, now," Finnick said, untangling himself from Cathryn. "Let's not be too harsh, eh, Cathryn? He is my best friend after all."
"A fact that still astounds me." she retorted. After casting another look at Johnny, she puckered her lips affectionately and attended to Finnick once again. "So, five it is?"
Finnick chuckled. "We'll see."
"You are such a tease, Odair."
"Don't I know it?"
"Well, my door's always open for you, if you know what I mean?"
"Thrilling."
Cathryn smiled and gave Finnick a peck on the cheek. She left their table and a few students gazed after her. Finnick noticed the sophomores looking as if they were wetting their pants.
"Bitch." Johnny grumbled when Cathryn was finally out of ear shot.
"Tell me about it."
Johnny frowned at hime. "Oh, really? 'Tempting.' 'Aren't you quite the vixen?' Yeah, she's really a bitch."
"You could have sarcasm as a career, Johnny."
"I have been told." he snapped back and took another bite from his bread. "Some Wednesday, huh?" He added after a while.
"Yeah," Finnick sighed, glancing back—not really towards Cathryn Highburn and her too-tight jeans—but to that someone who seemed to be in such a good mood while in the company of David Gray. "Some damn Wednesday."
Danny Cross was happy. Very, very, happy.
Sitting on a rocking chair at his porch (overlooking the shores), he couldn't imagine, or maybe could even care less, to the worries of other people. Finnick would be fine for one day. It was just a Wednesday anyway. What could happen on a Wednesday? But Wednesdays, on Danny's calendar, was the best. His work at the docks won't start until three in the afternoon and that gave him more time to rest and be with Lizzie for the rest of the morning.
Lizzie, who was busy in the kitchen preparing something for lunch, also had the day free—minus the short stay at the market later on. The livestock from Ten were getting expensive that she had to cut her days and hours at her stall so as not to order in more dairies that would eventually just get spoiled (due to the reality that only a few could afford them now).
Business at Brueler's were still as healthy and as competitive Danny imagined it to be that financially, he and Lizzie were still very much comfortable—and very well prepared for a big, fancy wedding.
"Not thinking about it again, Danny?" The front door swung open and revealed Lizzie, holding up a tray filled with an array of carbohydrates, protein and fats.
"Not more than the usual." He stood up and took the food tray from her hands.
"I was wondering," she continued as she followed him to the porch, "... how could I ever keep that grin off from your face? The smile I could take, but the drooling? Come off it, Danny."
Danny chuckled and scratched his head. He took a glass of lemonade and handed it over to Lizzie who seated on the other rocking chair beside his.
"That annoys you, Lizzie? My drooling over you? Heaven forbid that's not that dirtiest I've looked whenever I think about you."
"Danny!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
Danny shrugged and took a mouthful of the baked fish cakes, controlling his laughter so as not to choke.
"Couldn't a man daydream about the woman he feels deeply for—considers to be the love of his life?"
"You are too girly for the both of us. I'm worried."
Danny chuckled. "I've got the right nerves. And I'm hurt that you simply ignore it."
Lizzie snorted and playfully slapped Danny on his shoulder. "What would I do without you?"
"Forever be alone and hence be like—who was that again? The one they told us about when we were in school? Dony Joney or something."
"Davy Jones, you unmindful you! I thought literature was your favourite subject."
"It was. Not until we started poetry that I lost my taste for it."
"Poetry's nice. And romantic."
"It is most of the times." Danny replied after taking another bite. "But only for those who are like, well, Finnick for one. Or that bloke, David Gray."
"Hmm. David Gray. Now that you mentioned my other options..."
Danny sputtered and frowned. "Seriously, woman, you wound me. I know Gray's kinda good-looking—"
"Kinda? He is good looking."
Danny rolled his eyes. "Fine. He is good looking but damn, do you see how he lifts his father's haul? At the rate he's doing all the time, the fish'll rot in the containers before he finishes his rounds."
"Oh, you are such a sore lover, Danny." Liz giggled. "The dazzling David couldn't compare to you."
"Well, he is too weak and too beautiful for my taste."
"Too clean for you if you ask me."
"Lizzie..."
"Oh hush, Danny, I was only kidding." Lizzie took his hand and tugged it lightly. "You are my... pirate."
"Goodness, Liz, that's very creative." Danny joked as he pulled her to him and had her sitting on his lap. He rested her head on his chest and chuckled. "If I'm your pirate then you are my girl-pirate—piratess, whatever."
Elizabeth punched him lightly and giggled. They both sat there for a good twenty minutes that Danny felt they might eventually take a nap in this position. He wouldn't complain. He loved Liz too much it felt as though she should've been sewed in his own skin. He concluded that it was a bit gory but Liz would definitely understand the figurative meaning of it.
Sweet and loving as it all sounded, not everyone understood their relationship. Danny and Liz were only twenty two years old when they both decided to live under the same roof. Her mother—Elise—was not too keen on the idea but her fragile state left her hoping that maybe after she was gone, Danny would be there to take care of Liz. She died a few months after.
But now that he and Liz were both twenty six years old, Danny knew it was time to take their relationship to the next level—and now he realized how much he actually longed for it.
"I wish Fin could be this happy." Liz spoke.
Danny looked up to her lovingly and tucked in a few of her red hair behind her ears.
"He could be. If he wasn't just too hard on himself."
"You see," she frowned. "That's what I don't understand. When he is in the Capitol he struts around like he owns Panem, but when he gets back here it's as if all of his confidence was hauled away from him. Immediately."
Danny looked back on the shore, just right about a few meters away from their porch.
"He has issues." He replied thoughtfully.
"Obviously."
"Oh, c'mon, Lizzie, the boy is trying."
Lizzie snuggled closer to Danny, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I know, I know. But really, what gives? Because Annie wouldn't give him the time of day? But there are other—"
"They're not Annie, Liz. I've asked that myself, but all he says is that they're not Annie."
"You know, I could never understand those two." Lizzie sighed. "I didn't even know how it began for Finnick. I mean I knew they were neighbours but seriously, I didn't see that coming."
Danny chuckled softly. "You must know, Finnick also didn't see that coming."
"Oh?"
"Believe me. Annie has always been gallivanting right under his nose but he didn't even notice until she punched him on the face."
"Well, that is saying something."
Danny laughed while Lizzie looked at him quizzically.
"Well, it is something." He finally said after another fit of laughter. "She did punch him on the face. I mean, literally."
"Literally?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"Literally."
Annie rearranged the strap of her satchel as she made her way out of the school premises. It was a very long day at the Government School and it wasn't really the best day she had hoped for. The glances were still coming her way as David still didn't leave her side.
"Don't mind them." David whispered beside her. "They're not just used to this."
Annie frowned slightly and looked at him. "This?"
David sighed and scratched his head. "Well, you do know what I'm trying to do here, don't you?"
Annie shook her head.
Undoubtedly, she knew what he was up to. But it was preferable if he said it so himself. When she didn't respond aside from the fleeting shake of her head, David smiled and offered to walk her straight to the West Beach.
"Maybe I could shed some light to your confusion." He chuckled.
"I sure hope you do."
Like earlier during lunch, Annie particularly had a good time talking to David, except for the few furtive glances of Linda that made the whole lunch period more awkward than it should had been. Annie felt that it was all weird, really. But not because David made it all weird for her, but it was the others' reception towards this development that made her anxious.
She had to admit there were also a few instances that David did try too much. Annie supposed that he did this not really to impress her, but to never leave an awkward silence.
What she hoped, in all honesty, was for David to know that she loved the silence—the quietness a simple walk could offer. District Four was beautiful enough to hush the words right out of someone's mouth. It also had its own distinct background music; with the crashing of the waves to the shore, the twittering of the local and migrating birds, the rustling of the beach weeds, the soles of one's foot scrunching up the sand underneath...
Right after the night David waited for her at the Victor's Village, their afternoon walks now seemed to be a regular occurrence. Usually, they would find each other at the West Beach after school, both of whom wanting to enjoy the sunset and both of whom not wanting to ask the other whether the meet ups were accidental or otherwise. There were times Linda was usually with Annie but the former would surprisingly leave before David could even offer to walk Annie home.
So the incident before their Literature class this morning at the Government School was definitely a message—a development to the development.
"So you really have no idea, do you?" He asked when they were crossing the town square.
A few district students were also roaming the place, enjoying the sunset, eating what seemed like some fish cakes and sea weed bread from the market. Some of them exchanged knowing looks when she and David passed them by and said a friendly hello. Their secret walks were definitely not so secret anymore, a fact that to a certain degree, Annie feared the most (but then again it was as if David was being discreet in the school in the first place). Right now, though, as Annie and David walked past the other students, she was already too comfortable—and too entertained—with the peculiar setting and situation with David that she surprisingly, and finally, didn't even care.
There was something about not being inside the gray and white walls of the school that made her feel relaxed and easy. Being on the beachside was far more liberating than reading the pages of her poetry book or learning a new fishing knot. Maybe, feeling the sand underneath her feet and smelling the brine of the sea made her and David's development seemed real and attainable.
"Well, I may have the wrong idea." Annie said bluntly as they finally made their way down to the West Beach. "I mean, I could be wrong..."
David smiled sheepishly. "I seriously doubt that."
Annie stifled her laughter. "You're telling that I am right, then?"
"Well," David replied as he stopped, placing his hands on his pockets—a mannerism Annie seemed to notice. "That depends on what you're actually thinking."
"I told you, I could be wrong and then I would embarrass myself."
"No, tell me. What are you thinking of then?"
Annie fidgeted on the strap of her satchel. David took a step closer and held her arms. He laughed slightly and said,
"I won't laugh, I promise."
Annie looked up at him and scowled. "I don't believe you."
"Well then you have to because really, I won't."
Annie suddenly felt her surroundings to be a bit cramped. When she looked around though, they were well past the crowded square and were already in the middle of the West Beach, alone, with only a few exceptions of some people walking on the other side of the shore. Should she tell him?
No. Yes?
"Will you laugh then if I tell you something?" he spoke again before she could even finish the debate on her head.
"I'll try?" was the only thing she could finally come up with.
David chuckled. "Clever. Now I am afraid I'll embarrass myself."
He started walking towards their familiar spot near the bonfire pit. He sat down casually and motioned for her to come and sit beside him.
"I didn't know guys could be embarrassed." Annie said when she settled down.
"Of course we do. Why do you think we keep on practicing with the heavy weaponries at the Training Room if not to boost our egos? We are also fragile little human beings, you know."
"That is so hard to believe." Annie laughed.
"Really, we are! Just because we could carry twenty, thirty kilos of fish during the hauls doesn't mean we are made out of rocks. We are, you know, quite sensitive too at times."
Annie nodded, because truly, it may be true. Because by any means, she thought about her father, how soft and gentle he had always been to her and her mother, Winona. She remembered his daily rations of lavender to her mom, the little tea sets he'd buy from the thrift shop, the pressed flowers he'd collected with her over the years, the mini apron he tried to fit when Annie asked for a cooking partner when she was twelve, the lovely serenades she'd hear from her parents room even after her mom had died almost nine years ago... Willard Cresta was not only a competitive and talented fisherman, but he was also a loving and caring husband and father.
David started playing with the sand.
"It's such an overpowering feeling, though," he continued. "When we—I—get sentimental. Maybe it's not something that's innate to us males. We get scared by the thought of it."
"Why?"
David shrugged. "Maybe because that's not what we're supposed to do. And we're scared to admit that we do feel intense emotions at times."
"Do you get scared by it?"
"By what? Emotions?"
"Yes, emotions."
David looked thoughtful as he still continued messing up and making patterns in the beach sand. Then he looked at the shore and the setting sun with a mischievous smile. Every part of his lovely face was all the more highlighted by the colors of the sky. Annie couldn't help but gape. That foreign feeling—of warmth and comfort—that had been with her since he walked her to the Victors' Village a few days back instantly intensified, most especially when he turned to look at her with his deep gray eyes.
He finally let out a huff and looked at her intently. "You won't laugh?"
"I won't."
David let out another sigh as he smiled and took her hand.
"You are the most wonderful girl I've ever laid my eyes on, Annie."
She felt her cheeks warmed as he grasped her hand harder. He reached to cup her face and held it for a long time before speaking again breathlessly, as if too overwhelmed.
"And you clearly have no idea what you are doing to me."
"Finnick!"
A loud and joyous cry echoed and welcomed Finnick in the almost empty and darkening Brueler's Docks as he made his way to meet Danny. Johnny already went up ahead with Linda (who talked her way out of detention by arguing that to serve detention because of Lit class all the more confirmed it to be a real subject) to the Cross-Fisher household to meet with Liz. Linda promised some fantastic news and that she really wanted everyone present there for dinner. She even giddily promised cooking her famous clam chowder.
It was up until that moment when Thomas Ray shouted his name that Finnick forgot about the said chowder for a few minutes. He couldn't deny at how much he missed the boy.
"Tom!" Finnick shouted back and instead of going straight to the shack to where Danny was, he crossed the docks towards the running 12-year old boy.
"Finnick!" Thomas shouted once more as he collided with Finnick and had him in an embrace. "How come you haven't visited yet? Mom was waiting you know. And I was too! It's been a week since you got back, no fair!"
"I know, I know." Finnick ruffled the boy's also darkened bronze hair as they let go. "But I've been quite... busy."
Depressed wasn't the right word to say to such an overjoyed kid. In fact, he might not even register the word with his intense adrenalin rush at the moment.
"I was saying to dad the other day that maybe, just maybe, I get to have the trident at practice tomorrow. Collin's always at it whenever we go to training classes. You now Collin, right? The fourteen year-old, blonde nitwit? He's a ninth grader but we get to share the room with them during training. He's always flashing the trident out and about just because he threatened anyone who gets in his way. But he couldn't even get it across a few meters! Not like the way you do it! Also, Stella's not being cooperative at home, you know. Always crying and finishing all the soup. But I don't mind. Her hair's getting really curly like mom's and it makes me laugh whenever it tickles dad if he carries her."
Finnick chuckled as Thomas went on about the five months of his almost teenaged-life that Finnick missed while he was still at the Capitol. Somewhere nearer in the shack at Brueler's, Finnick could just make out Danny and Thomas' father chatting and tying up the Rays' boat.
"Are you going to join in the Summer Haul, Fin?" asked Thomas as they started to walk back towards the shack.
"Well, I don't intend to, to be honest."
"Why not? You haven't joined the Haul since, right?"
"Well..." Finnick scratched his head as the persistent Thomas looked at him curiously.
"Oh, c'mon, Finnick! It would be awesome! We could use our boat. We could do it together!"
"Aren't you too young for the Haul?"
"What? Mom said Uncle Frank joined when he was twelve and I'm almost thirteen, you know."
Finnick grinned. It was true. His father, Frank Odair, joined the annual Summer Haul when he was only twelve, with the insistence of course of his father and little sister, Irvette.
"You do know that joining the Haul is practically saying you are ready to get married? And yes, Thomas, you are just twelve years old."
"Almost thirteen!" Thomas stuck his tongue out. "And who says something about marriage? Marriage is for guys like you who like girls like... Cathryn."
"Cathryn?"
"Yeah, isn't she your age, Fin? Collins said she is the prettiest at school. Do you agree?"
Finnick looked up again to the nearing shack where Danny and Marion Ray were waiting for them. He had to get a move on from this.
"Do you agree, Fin?" Thomas repeated.
"No, of course not."
"Yeah, I thought so too. I think Annie's the prettiest. Nicest too."
Finnick chuckled. How the same blood runs in their veins. "Yeah, she is."
"The prettiest or the nicest?"
Finnick ruffled Thomas' hair again as he laughed quite genuinely.
"Both." He finally replied.
"Dylan had a crush on her, did you know?"
Finnick looked down incredulously at his young companion. Dylan? But before he could reply, Thomas was yelling and running again. This time, though, towards his father.
"Dad! Look who I found!"
"Yeah, I noticed." Marion chuckled. "How much would you think he'd sell? A thousand, perhaps?"
Finnick winced.
"Well, I think he'd sell better than the red snappers." Danny joined in the joke, easing much of the tension Finnick knew was instantly coating the docks.
"Well that makes me feel so much better." Finnick replied as he reached the three men waiting and forced himself to smile. "Uncle Marion. It's been a while."
"Finnick."
Finnick offered his hands to which Marion shook. Finnick felt he was being appraised again in the Capitol, like he was truly a fish to be delivered to the market to be sold. Marion knew nothing of his trades, but Finnick couldn't help but feel the bitterness towards such thoughts.
If he only knew.
"Can he stay with us, dad? Please? Stella and mom would be very, very, surprised if Fin comes home with us."
Marion looked at his son, then to Finnick. He was expressionless and seemed to urge Finnick to say something instead.
"It's alright, Tom." Finnick reasoned. "I don't want to intrude. And like I said, I'm quite busy."
Thomas' grin faltered a bit and all the three grown up men seemed to notice.
"Intrude? But..."
"I wouldn't be too far. I promise."
That didn't seem to do the trick. Thomas continued to give him those kinds of glances a person wouldn't want to receive from a child, those sad, disappointed, and frustrated kinds of looks.
"You know what, Finnick." Marion suddenly spoke. "Maybe just dinner. Your aunt would really appreciate that."
The victor looked at his uncle. Was he kidding?
"Uh, I don't know, Uncle Marion. I do have somewhere to be. You know, Danny and I have some plans." Finnick glanced at the shack proprietor. "It's been scheduled—"
"Plans? No, no!" Danny cut him off. "That's not important. You go along at the Rays for a while. I'll tell Linda and the others where you're at. They won't mind, believe me."
"But..."
Tom clobbered him again. "Yes! Mom would be so surprised!"
"Well, there you go, Finnick."
"Danny..."
"Finnick, they won't mind!"
"Maybe just next time if you really are too busy." Marion said. Finnick didn't need to look at his uncle to see the gleaming hope in his face showing that he, too, was just hoping for a next time.
"But dad!"
"No, Marion, believe me, Finnick could go." Danny assured.
Tom, Marion and Finnick left after a few more and much more dignified assurances from Danny that Linda won't mind. He kidded that it may just be about some cute guy she met at the market or something. He also promised Finnick that they would leave some clam chowder for him. Still, though, Finnick looked desperately at Danny as he started walking away from the shack with the Rays. But Danny was stern.
Finnick needed to see the Rays. They were his family after all.
"Ahh, so you finally decided to show!"
"Alright, I'm sorry. I know I should've visited sooner. But you know how busy I've been."
"Excuses."
"Oh, please don't be mad."
"Well, come over here you silly girl and give me a hug."
Annie Cresta made her way towards the elderly Magdalene Navi who was seating in a large wicker chair in the middle of the cavernous Victor's house. It's been almost two weeks since she last visited. But it was true that Annie was busy with school works and a lot of other things.
"Don't you ever think I'll buy your excuses young lady—not when I hear that you are seeing that Gray boy almost every day at the beach."
"Oh, c'mon, Mags. He's just a friend."
"Not the way he looks at you, I hear."
"Oh you. You never really stop gossiping."
"Well, it's the only good entertainment we have nowadays." Mags snorted. "So what about that young boy?"
"Do you want some tea?" Annie placed her satchel down at the larger wicker chair beside Mags and started towards the kitchen.
"Don't you change the subject young lady." Annie heard Mags stood up from her chair and followed suit, her dependable cane making familiar clicking sounds at the marble floors.
"There's nothing to discuss, I told you."
Annie started filling up the gleaming kettle with water and then placed it on the stove. She then opened the third cupboard from her left and pulled out two gigantic ceramic mugs. On the drawer just below the same cupboard, boxes of tea were arranged according to their flavours.
"What do you want? Earl, chamomile, Jasmine, Darjeeling? Goodness, Mags you have a factory here."
"Like you have never seen them before." Mags rolled her eyes.
Tea and scones were their routine. Annie would be at the house by six in the evening and Mags would be in the wicker chair waiting for her. A couple of hugs and kisses, with some bantering most of the times,would be exchanged and then the ceremonious clanging of utensils, mugs and boiling water would come next. The freshly baked scones was always delivered by the district baker (on Mags' request as she can't walk too much now) and kept inside the oven to maintain its heat before Annie arrived to lay them out on the ceramics.
"Your best friend came by with a pot of clam chowder." Mags grumbled as she finally reached the kitchen then towards the adjoining dining hall across. "She said she knew you would be visiting."
Annie stopped arranging the scones on the plate.
"I told her I would be visiting you tod—hang on," Annie's eyes widened in understanding. "Was she the one who told you about David?"
"I didn't say nothing, deary. But her chowder was very good. I left some for you on the pot over there at the counter."
"Well, she does make good chowders..."Annie rolled her eyes. She can never win against Mags.
Annie grudgingly took the pot and poured some to a small bowl. She took the food to the dining table where Mags was already sitting in one of the chairs and was attempting to drag another to rest her legs up.
"They're not hurting you again, are they?" Annie asked and eyeing the older's legs warily.
"No need to be surprised. I'm already seventy five years old. God knows I could collapse any moment now."
"Mags..."
Mags waved her hand impatiently at Annie, as if dismissing her. Mags, in the longest time that Annie knew her, was never the one you had to feel sorry for. But then again, Annie always knew she and her father were exceptions.
"Have you seen your doctor lately?" Annie pursued.
"Drop it, Annie."
"Or have you been eating all those nuts again?"
"Tell me about that boy?"
"Have you been eating nuts again?"
"Linda said that he's very handsome."
"Mags!"
"He better be good-looking."
"Oh I give up!" Annie rolled her eyes and attended to the now whistling kettle behind them at the kitchen. She could hear Mags laughing victoriously.
"Okay, you can laugh now, Mags. But summer's coming soon and you would want to walk in the beach. But not when your knees and ankles hurt like hell."
Annie went back to the table with two steaming mugs of tea. Mags was frowning at her, like a little child who was grounded for life.
"Oh, don't look at me like that. If you want to go to the beach, you have to walk and when you have to walk, you have to use your—"
"I can walk. Oh, how much you remind me of your mother. Stubborn like an old piece of gum stuck underneath the table."
Annie sputtered some of her tea. "Mags!"
The two of them laughed heartily and had finally settled into a more thoughtful conversation. Annie told Mags about the new poem she learned at the Government School and how Mr. Appalach—"And a certain classmate." she sneered—hated the verses.
"I mean, it's not that bad really. It was insightful. Partially unnerving but—"
"Unnerving?" Mags inquired. "How?"
"Well, for one I think it also dealt not only with love but also with death and betrayal."
"Hmm."
"But it is definitely, definitely, not overrated. I mean, sure we encounter those all the time, but really, when was the last time we actually dealt with it? Actually felt it?"
"What, death?" Mags sipped from her tea and watched Annie from the rim of her mug. Annie was silent for a moment.
"But I agree that it is not overrated." Mags continued as she settled the mug once more. "One can only imagine the intense pain death can bring—and could only envision the intense joy love can bestow."
Annie looked at her grandmother intently. Of course she would know these things. Mags had spent most of her life witnessing, if not experiencing, the death and loss of the people around her—of the people she loved. Of the tributes she helped mentor, or of the twin sister she volunteered for.
"I miss her a lot, my dear Annie."
"Oh, Mags." Annie leaned forward and took the victors wrinkled and weakened hands.
"I just wish I could've saved her."
"You did, Mags. You saved Nana from the Games. You even won the games!"
"Oh, but to lose her because of some illness." Mags grasped Annie's hands tighter. "I never in my mind doubted that in some ways, they would eventually get back to me."
"Mags..."
"Margarita never died of some influenza they made up. I know that. I am sure of that." Mags wailed.
Margarita Navi, who soon became Margarita Seazer, was never the one to hurt a fly. She was in some ways, the exact opposite of Mags despite their identical features. While Mags was feisty, Rita was shy and reserved, always accompanied by thick volumes of books and clippings. She also loved to cook and would spend the entire day ploughing the gardens where she'd grow all sorts of vegetables and herbs. Mags, on the other hand, while still lovely and gentle, was always on the beach participating in swim races, fishing expeditions, and any other Bonfire events. Mags was outgoing while Rita was blessed with tenderness even the people around her wouldn't let an insect come near her. So it was just so natural, so obvious, so predictable, and yet so heartbreaking, to witness what had happened all those years ago.
Grandma Rita, Mags' twin sister and Annie's maternal grandmother, was reaped during the 12th Hunger Games. But like any other loving sister, Mags volunteered in her place.
But three years after, when both sisters were twenty years old, Margarita became ill after visiting the Capitol with Mags due to her Victor's privilege. The doctors concluded that Margarita picked up an unknown disease when they were travelling back to the District. After a few weeks, she died in her bed, leaving her husband Don and one year old daughter Winona on their own.
Some said Mags never forgave herself. Willard Cresta even believed that Mags felt that the Capitol had something to do with it. For some reasons, they had to kill Margarita. For one, Mags was the first ever to use the volunteer option in the games. Hence, to Willard's explanation, she created the first crack. That little fracture in the perfect glass ball of the Capitol.
"But it's just all theories and hearsays." He'd always recoil.
Annie, even with her young mind back then, just glimpsing Grandma Rita through pictures and in Mags' similar attributes, had never forgotten the strangely similar position and story she was in. Winona died when she as only nine, widowing Willard just barely months before the tenth anniversary of their wedding and orphaning Annie of a mother's love before she could even tie her first fishing knot.
"I think you should head back home, Annie." Mags was finally able to murmur, gently releasing Annie's hand and patting it before finally losing contact. "We had enough tea, I think."
Annie smiled sadly at her grandmother. How many times had she seen her this way? How many times had she seen her lose her composure? How many times had Annie watched Mags zone out and recollect all her guilt and wish for reprieve?
Too many. Too many to even count.
Annie wished she just didn't bring about the topic of the poetry. But either way, she knew Mags would eventually find a way to torture herself.
The saddest thing about it, though, as Annie started to clean the dishes they used, was how fleeting it all had been. No matter how routinary, no matter how agonizing and piercing the memories were, remembering Margarita and her death had to happen at passing. No one had the heart to linger on it. Not even Mags. Not because it was hurtful to remember, but because there already was some sort of a resignation. That no one can do anything about her death except to just simply remember, even as fleeting, the excruciating pain of loss.
Annie went back to the living room where Mags was again sitting on her wicker chair, now weaving some nets.
"You'll visit me soon, you hear me my Annie?" Mags smiled at her, no trace of the earlier loneliness on her face.
Again, fleeting.
Annie forced herself to smile. She crouched down beside the chair and admired the handiwork. Mags had always been talented.
"I will, I promise." She replied.
"You can help me finish this, you know. It is the summer holidays in a few days' time."
"Of course."
"You can bring darling David with you too if you like."
"Mags." Annie rolled her eyes and genuinely laughed lightly.
"Well, at least invite him inside for a few minutes before you dismiss him. God knows how far he had to walk back to his house."
"Mags!"
"I see things clearly from this chair, Annie. And it is still my porch. I was waiting for you guys to have a good-bye kiss, you know."
"Oh I am not hearing this anymore." Annie, now like a little child being teased, picked up her satchel, planted a kiss on Mags' forehead and started walking towards the door.
"He did walk you here, didn't he? Is he waiting for you now?"
"Bye, Mags."
"Oh, and Annie," Mags called after her, chuckling a bit. "I did eat some nuts."
Finnick left Danny's house in a daze. Surely (he had hoped again), this was not the same Wednesday. It can't be that same damn Wednesday. He truly had enough for one day—for his whole lifetime.
He tugged his sweater more tightly around him and pulled the strap of his rucksack. He definitely needed a long hot shower to ease his mind from all the stresses of this one stupid day.
He knew Danny and David were at fault for this certain suffering of his. David because, well, he was being David around Annie, and Danny, because he was being the self-righteous Danny Finnick loathed about him. The only good thing that came out from this day's rendezvous was seeing Tom, Stella, and Irvette—and Linda's clam chowder.
Tom was obviously at his ends wit when they arrived at their house almost sundown. Finnick could just make out the two women of the household; both had incredulously blonde, wild, and curly hair that fell past their waists. Like Tom at the docks, his Aunt Irvette tackled him with the warm yet rib-breaking hug.
"I thought you'd never come." She exhaled. "Oh, how much I've missed you, Finnick!"
"Well, I've missed you too."
If Finnick could only say he had a bearable time with the Rays. The unfortunate thing about the reunion was how forced it all seemed to be. For him, for his aunt, for his uncle... it was all showmanship for their children, Tom and Stella.
They had a delicious dinner care of Irvette and some of the mud crabs Tom and Marion had caught earlier on. Finnick spent most of his time playing with the two-year old Stella while waiting to be dismissed from the household. Despite the noise both Tom and Stella were making, Finnick knew, even though he couldn't really hear, of the distinct conversation of his aunt and uncle while they were doing the dishes. Sure, Aunt Irvette made it all less awkward; her being all motherly and supportive, asking the right questions a mother would ask after her son got home from school. But it didn't let Finnick experience the satisfaction in knowing that she was not disappointed with him. That when she finally dried her hands with a towel and crossed the small space to reach him in the living area to finally hug him again, her feelings of regret were still clearly readable in her eyes.
Finnick wasn't forgiven yet.
Marion Ray, although related only through his marriage to Irvette Odair, was more determined to hate him. After the death of Frank, Natalia, and Dylan, everyone in the district knew that Finnick would definitely stay with the Rays. Marion was more than thrilled. But Finnick, now thought to be completely full of himself—as what Marion had made of him now—decided to leave the District for the luxuries of the Capitol. That the Rays' house: shabby, small, old and dirty, was totally out of a Victor's league.
Finnick wanted nothing but for his aunt and uncle to know the truth. But when he chose to leave them and start his trades in the Capitol, he knew that at least, they were one less family he needed to worry about.
He left the Rays house with promises of returning and scheduling more fishing escapades with Tom. The last few glances he had with both Irvette and Marion told him that they, too, feared that it might not actually happen. So Finnick took the pleasure in knowing that when he reaches the Cross-Fisher household a few blocks away from the Rays, he would finally be in good-company. But Linda, as what his instincts had been telling him since that morning, was born to also make him suffer a great deal.
The annoyance started to creep up on him again when she mentioned about Annie's upcoming birthday—and just when he was enjoying his first bowl of chowder.
"She's turning eighteen so I want to make it special. Last year of eligibility, right?"
The party talk went on and on. From the paper napkins to be used, to the colors of the banners, to the food Liz and Linda will prepare... Finnick barely participated and just kept on nodding if he was asked. Nothing remained inside his head for the longest time. Perhaps, he had hoped, Johnny will remind him later on.
He was all too glad when Liz and Linda giddily expressed their thanks and wished everyone a goodnight. He and Johnny walked Linda home and a few minutes after, Johnny also waved his goodbye.
So, here he was, twenty minutes later, walking at the emptying town square and towards the large iron gates of the Victor's Village with a large and painful headache. Finnick anticipated the long, hot shower he would be taking back at his bathroom, but first, there was something he needed to do.
"Hey, Mags. Nice net."
Finnick walked towards one of the chairs and collapsed on it, hearing a rather loud chuckle from Mags.
"A long day?" she asked.
"You don't want to know." Finnick managed to groan.
"I've been hearing excuses all day, you try me."
Finnick laughed and looked at the elderly. If there was anyone on the entire world who could understand him, it was Mags. Mags and her smart aleck self. She was like his own personal sponge that willingly and automatically absorbed and shared his pain and loneliness. For a moment there, as he still sat at the wicker chair and observing Mags' delicate weaving, Finnick felt lighter.
Then there it was. That certain bond the Hunger Games created for their unfortunate Victors.
Silence.
"Annie just left a couple of minutes ago. Didn't you see her?" Mags finally spoke.
"No." Finnick replied. And thank god for that.
"Ahh, yes, maybe she did take the back route. It leads directly to the beach."
He continued to watch Mags weave the net. It still surprised him that even with that old age of hers, the pattern was impeccable. The net wasn't too tight nor the spaces too big. It was just perfect.
"You need to teach me how you do that, Mags. The one's I've been weaving's enough to trap people but not fish."
Mags laughed.
"Well it's summer time. You can help me finish this."
Promising that he would, and hoping that busying himself would take his head off from the dreaded day of returning to the Capitol, he left Mags' house and headed towards his own.
Finnick immediately went to his very spacious bathroom and started the shower. He was just about to remove his clothing when somewhere, he assumed coming from the shores behind the victor houses, he heard laughter so familiar it made him nervous. He peered at the smallish window in the bathroom directly viewing the backyard beach. And just like a few nights ago, when he saw him waiting for her at the benches as she retreated from his victor's house after a very unsuccessful apology—and just when he thought things could not get worse for him—David and Annie were taking the back route, happily and merrily, as if the white and luminous moonbeams were made for them.
So Finnick did what he did best. He turned around, slipped off all articles of clothing, and submerged himself in the hot tub. As long as he was in the hot water, nothing hurt and mattered much. Because for the nearing summer season, it surely was too cold tonight.
AN: Reviews are love! Sorry it took so long to update! But I hope it's worth it! :) The poem that Linda read is "Don't Go Far Off" by Pablo Neruda. Also, all the chapter titles are lines from different Neruda poems as well.