A/N- These next few chapters are going to go pretty in-depth for the 71st Hunger Games, since there are important events related to them. I'm sorry if you think I'm taking it too slow, but I don't want to miss important details. Please read and review. Thank you.
Finnick- 20, Annie- 17
To say that the Reaping came quickly after my talk with Snow would be like saying that Snow has minor anger issues. It's like I just blinked the second that I got back from the Capitol, and then when my eyes open again it's Reaping Day.
In some ways, I have to say that it's better than most for me. There's no one that I know who can be thrown into the 71st Hunger Games. My friends and family are safe. Yet, it's also so much worse. I have to mentor, as well as continue doing my job for President Snow. I guess that may be a good thing, though. Maybe I can persuade some rich bitch to give my kid some food or something. I don't know. I just know that this sucks.
As usual, I get to sit on a stage, even though it feels strangely empty. I've sat by Borglum the past four years. Now, no Borglum. Eliza is gone too. In their absence, or maybe it's just in light of some of the more recent events, Orica's presence is freakishly strong. She's watching me too, I can feel it. It's worse because I'm sitting across the stage from Annie. It was just arranged like that. I'm guessing so that no rumors would start or something. At least they let me sit between Mags and Felix, though. If whoever set this thing up had me beside Orica, there would've been blood.
Going with tradition, Mayor Winthrop goes through the Treaty of Treason in his nasally drone that puts my ears in danger of bleeding. That's another unwelcome change. Every time that I even glance at that stupid punk I get the urge to go over there and bash his face in. I know that he didn't drop those spores, but even just being connected with the memory taints his image. If you combine that with the fact that he's one of Snow's pawns, you get a disgusting creep that I'd very much enjoy using as a punching bag.
While I'm working on tuning out Pea-Brain's voice, I make the mistake of looking at the crowd of kids, gathered in the Town Square like a herd of cattle. That's sort of accurate, in my opinion. It's like a cattle sale almost. Only it doesn't matter if the ones that you buy are the biggest or best. You just deal with what you get, try to put some weight on them, then drop them off at the butcher.
Even though that's a decent comparison, I know that it is different, though. I know by the way that my heart sinks every time I meet the eyes of one of those kids, and I see the sheer terror there. It doesn't help that I know exactly how well founded that terror is. There's a good chance that the kids that are sent into that arena will die. If they don't die, their lives will be changed forever, and not in a good way either.
I wonder which of one those kids I'll get to know. I wonder which one I'll be responsible for. Which one that I'm going to watch die. I immediately look away from the crowd.
Mayor Winthrop thankfully finishes his speech just a second later. As soon as he's done speaking, a hush falls over the entire town. Even the seagulls know something's up, because their ceaseless cries seem to evaporate into thin air. If you listen closely, you can hear the waves crashing onto the beach, but nothing else.
"Ladies first," Alva says. At the moment, she's the only enthusiastic person in the district. I'm sure that after the betters see the tributes, they'll get pumped up if there's a good one, but right now they're as silent as everyone else, probably praying for a strong tribute.
Alva picks her way across the stage in her heels until she's right in front of the girl's ball. She fishes around for a slip of paper and reads a name out loud.
"Amana Voda," she reads. Even though I knew that there was no one I really knew in the Reaping, I relax. It's just a habit.
One of the biggest girls in the crowd struts up to the stage, and everyone goes wild. A big tribute. I don't know what they're thrilled about. I can immediately tell that she's not going to survive. She's too cocky, probably a spoiled brat. Her build says that she's well fed, and her long blonde hair flows down her back in a shining cascade, meaning that she gets showers at least every other day, a sign that she's rich.
Even worse are the things that she's lacking. More than anything, she has no control. As soon as she's on that stage, she looks at me and smiles, almost like she was born in the Capitol. Then there's the absence of the traits a victor needs. She doesn't have any cleverness in her eyes like Eliza, and anyone that's that cocky wouldn't have Annie's attention to detail. She may look good to the crowds, but anyone who's been through the Games knows that she doesn't stand a prayer.
After the crowd dies down, Alva walks over to the guy's ball and sticks her hand in to find the slip.
"Adair Cade." Another random name that I care nothing about.
He's bigger too, but still smaller than I am, and younger than a lot of people would prefer. I'd guess fifteen I think. Unlike the other girl, I know that this boy has some intangibles. You can tell that he's scared, which is a good thing. If a tribute goes up there knowing he'll win, he'll get himself killed. Instead, he's slightly hesitant, but he doesn't break down. That's a good thing. He'll listen to what his mentor has to say. He'll be cautious. By no means do I think he can win, but he has a better chance than Amana.
The rest of the Reaping is done in a flash, and the victors start to disperse. Some of the crowd celebrates, while friends and family of the tributes head to the Justice Building as quickly as possible to give their loved ones their final good-byes. I find Annie, just giving her a quick hug, not daring to do more. Then Mags and I are ushered off to the train station. We're required to do interviews about what we expect from our tributes. I follow Mags' example, just giving general answers. I have to answer a few more questions about my first year of mentoring, and then we board the train for the Capitol.
Mags pulls me aside right away to start explaining things to me.
"First, the most important thing, is which tribute you're going to mentor."
"And how do you decide that?"
"Which do you think will benefit from you the most?" The girl. I could teach her a few things. I know that. Mags knows that. But I don't want her. She looks like a bitch, she's already flirted with me, and she's going to die for sure. Yet, I couldn't give Adair anything. I'm sure there's advice to give, but none that I would know. Mags would be able to help him, though.
"I know what you're thinking, but I can not mentor Amana. She has a crush on me. Did you see her look at me right after she was picked? That isn't right." Mags chuckles.
"Yes, I did notice that. But did you also notice how similar you were to her during your Games?"
"I was fourteen," I protest. "She's almost the age I am now. She's been like that too long to get talked out of it." Mags shakes his head.
"At least try. Maybe if you talk a while, you'll rub off on her some."
"Yeah. I'll talk to her. Then I'll get to know her, and we'll become friends. Then I'll see her face get pounded in with a mace." Mags puts a hand on my arm.
"Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice to give them the best chance possible to win." I close my eyes, knowing that she's right. She puts a hand on my arm, then. "You're strong. You'll be fine, Finnick. But let me warn you, if she won't listen to you, if you know that she can't win, keep your distance."
"I remember you telling me that. Your rule." She smiles.
"Yes. That doesn't mean I don't want you to try though."
"So I'm stuck with her?" I ask, now that it sounds final. I love how she made it sound like I was getting some sort of choice, yet gives me basically one option.
"You could help her more than I could. She would relate to you better."
"So would the boy," I answer.
"Do you know him?" she asks.
"No. And you do?"
"I know his father. His family is poor, he has seven siblings, and he's worked for your father for a very long time. Not only has he grown to hate your family, but he's already been taught most of the things that you would know to teach him." I stare at her in surprise.
"Let me guess, you know all about Amana too, and she'll be perfect for me." She shakes her head.
"I know very little about her. I spend my time helping, getting to know the poor, not the wealthy."
"But you still assume I would be able to help her."
"We all have to do things that we don't want to do, you should know that by now," she says. I don't like it. I'm actually mad at her, because I really don't want to deal with Amana. She looks like a bitch, and I cannot stand girls like that.
"I don't like it."
"But you'll do it." I purse my lips.
"I will, but if she makes a move on me, I'm not guaranteeing her safety."
"You have a reputation," she reminds me gently.
"She isn't Capitol enough for me," is my response. I leave Mags after that and head to my room.
Just minutes later, Alva comes to get me for dinner. Because it's appropriate, I sit down by Amana. Adair isn't there yet, and neither is Mags. When Alva goes to fetch them, I'm left completely alone with Amana, which I am not comfortable with.
"Hello Finnick," she says with a smile, batting eyelashes so long that they brush her cheeks. For the first time I notice that her eyes aren't actually blue, but instead a strange violet color.
"Your name is Amana?" I ask, even though I know. I don't want to start out talking like we're already close friends. It'd just be too weird.
"Shouldn't you have figured that out by now?" she asks me, letting her smile get bigger, revealing straight white teeth. "Haven't you been talking about me?" I wonder if she's a narcissist, like to the point of a mental condition. It sure seems like that right now, unless she's only pretending to think that the entire world revolves around her.
"We've been talking about both you and the boy tribute."
"And what have you been calling us, if not our names?" She turns a little, letting her knee press against mine. I resist the urge to move away. I guess it's just a habit, not to move. I could. She isn't one of the president's whores.
"The boy and the girl," I answer, even if it isn't completely true. Maybe it'll bring her down to earth. Maybe.
"The girl?" she asks. "Doesn't that make me sound like a child? I'm almost as old as you are," she says. I roll my eyes.
"Actual age is irrelevant once you've made it through the Games." She isn't thrilled with that answer, but she doesn't let herself get discouraged.
"So when I get out of the arena I'll be older and wiser?" she asks. I don't know why I say what I do next, but it slips out before I really think about it. I know what I'm saying, and I know that I don't want to, but the words just fall from my lips like a waterfall.
"Most likely, when get out of the arena, you'll be in a body bag, probably covered in blood. That is, unless someone decides to bash your head in with a club. Then your head will be soft and mushy. But don't worry, I'll fix your hair before the funeral." She stares at me, her violet eyes filled with hurt and horror. I open my mouth to say something, but she gets up from the table in a huff and runs to her room. Mags walks in at just that second, looking around for Amana.
"Shit, I'll be right back," I mutter, getting up from the table. I hurry away from the room, then call an attendant to direct me to where Amana is staying. I knock on the door softly, but no one answers. I test the knob, surprised to find it left unlocked.
She's sitting on her bed, her face buried in her hands. She jolts straight up when she sees me, and I feel my stomach twist when I see tears running down her cheeks. I made her cry. Great. Here I am, getting totally disgusting at Snow for being such a prick, when I'm not much better.
"Amana-," I start.
"I don't want to hear any of it," she says in a voice stronger than I expected.
"Just let me talk to you," I tell her, walking over to her bed and sitting down beside her. She tenses up, but I pretend not to notice.
"What?" she asks. I grab the necklace Rafe gave me, studying it so that I don't have to look at her.
"I didn't mean what I just said, and I'm sorry. I'm just nervous that I'm going to get to know you, and then I'm going to end up having to watch you die." I don't know if a mentor is supposed to tell a tribute that or not, but I need some way to explain to her why I just said that.
"I won't die," she says. I shake my head.
"But you will if you keep talking like that. I came into my Games with that same attitude. I was a cocky punk who'd grown up with everything, and I was convinced that victory would be handed to me on a silver platter. I'm going to tell you right now that nothing about my victory was easy, and if you expect it to be, you're not going to make it past the first day."
"I'm confident, not stupid," she insists.
"We'll see about that," I tell her, smiling a little bit just to try to get her to smile back. When she sees my smile, she relaxes.
"I won't disappoint you," she says, a slight challenge in her voice, then wipes the last of her tears away.
"You better not," I tell her. Then I get up, holding a hand out for her. She takes it, and I pull her to her feet. "Now let's go eat. You'll need to pack on at least a little weight."
We start walking back to the main room, then, and I start thinking that maybe this mentoring thing isn't so bad. Then she puts her hand on my waist and that thought leaves my head immediately. What kind of ditz do you have to be to run off sobbing about what kind of jerk I am one second, then to go right back to flirting with me the next? Especially when she's a week away from fighting to the death. I don't think it's fair, knowing how God seems to forget to give some people working brains.
I sigh, knowing that I still have a lot more work cut out for me.