Thank you MrsMKT68, HogwartsDreamer113, Joe and gaptasticventure for reviewing! :)

From the time between Finnick's Hunger Games and the time he becomes classified as a prostitute, it's pretty boring; I won't lie. So I'm wondering, would you like me to drag it out with several different parts of the year or to fastforward and write like, two chapters until the next Games?

XVII.

"Aye, Odair!" Calder yells. "Got a large haul of fish 'ere. Make yourself useful and help me, would ya?"

I chuckle at his demanding tone but grab onto the opposite end of the net's rope, nonetheless. The coarse texture of the rope feels familiar, as it easily slips through the palm of my hands and my fingers. It's only the three of us this morning, with the other man, Whitmore, manning the ship. Dean, Amphitrite's son, tends to join us on most mornings, unless he has lessons before school hours like today. It takes a lot more effort than it usually does to pull up the caught seafood. With several grunts, we manage to successfully haul the load on deck.

Then, we gut the fish. The initial thought of killing them and touching a knife causes me to wince at the horrid memory of the Hunger Games, but I manage to complete the task without further ado. Over the past year, I've attempted to push my memories of my Games to the back of my mind, and to never think of them, but it proves to be impossible. I'm constantly reminded of the Games - seeing Marlene makes me flinch because of how I was incapable of saving her brother; seeing my own Victor's House even inflicts memories to surge through my mind as it reminds me of how I received such fortune; flirting with girls reminds me of how I managed to kill Indiana; going to school reminds me how popular I've gotten due to my victory. And even when I'm mostly distracted during the day, sleep triggers my memories. Every night, nightmares occur and I find myself having to scream myself awake.

Calder, Whitmore and I drag the bucket loads of fresh fish into the central trading centre of District Four, only to be mobbed within seconds. "Ay, Calder, what fish you got there?!" yells a nasty looking fisherman with yellow, crooked teeth, red-rimmed eyes and shaggy hair.

"Cod, barramundi, flukes, common breams; you're in luck today, Harper."

The man, Harper, fishes through his apron's pockets, searching for any cash he might have on him at the moment, as other men come up to us doing the same. "Odair, how much for a kilo of salmon and tuna?" one yells.

"Forty for a kilo of salmon and fifty for tuna," I yell back. "But you don't have to pay me. Just Calder and Whitmore."

"You sure, man?"

I nod in response and Calder demands, "Go to school, Odair."

"Are you sure?" I ask, skeptically. "Can you handle these people? It's just you two now."

"Yeah, yeah, quit ya yapping, Odair. I got it." He waves me off. "Go to school or hang out with your girlfriend; that Cresta girl you live with?"

"She's not my…" I pause for a moment to find the rights words but to no avail. "We're not…" I end up sighing and saying, "Never mind."

I go home to take a quick shower. I scrub the grime and stench of fish off my body. After standing under the hot water for so long that my skin is red, I finally step out, dry and clothe myself.

It's become a routine now. I wake up early in the morning - usually from my nightmares -, going out to sea to fish with my deceased father's mates, go to school, hang out with my friends for a while, then train with the girls. Even after my Hunger Games, I still train - maybe it's a way of releasing the emotions I bottle up, maybe it's to just stay fit and trained in case I'm trapped in an arena again.

And I'm hoping that won't be the case, since it's already a highly unlikely possibility.

School tends to be tedious but I know that I have no choice but to go, for my own benefit. Our English teacher, Miss Forbes, reads out Romeo and Juliet, a play from the Olden Times before the rebellion. I can't help but think, 'Can a 13 year old even fall in love?' The entire concept seems a little stupid to me; I barely find it tragic, if that's the correct word to describe it. After hearing the story, several girls name me as 'their Romeo', and I'm not sure if that's supposed to a good or bad thing - it's quite flattering, but if I'm Romeo, then I, along with those girls, would both end up suiciding.

It's at this point in my schooling years that I realise how confusing those from the olden ages were.

"Mr Odair, are you paying attention?"

Snapping out of my daze, I blink several times. "Huh?"

Miss Forbes sighs in exasperation - I've dozed off into my own land several times already. "Don't do that again, Finnick. You need your grades."

I glare at Marlene, who struggles to keep her laugh in across the table, and nod.

"Got it, Miss."

"So, dude, how are the women in the Capitol?" Oliver asks in curiosity.

Releasing a chuckle at his curiosity, I reply, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"They any fun?" he questions with an impish grin.

I roll my eyes and force a smirk onto my face. "Yeah, sure. You could say that."

More like the complete opposite.

"Ah, man, you're so lucky." He pats my back, approvingly. "I wish I could go there. The girls must be pretty hot."

"Eh, they're okay," I lie straight through my teeth, smoothly.

"Oh, yeah, sure. You're too busy staring at Summers," he teases.

I scoff and roll my eyes again. "Marlene Summers? She's cool and kind of a friend person, but she is a little too psychotic and violent for me. That girl packs one hard punch." Instinctively, I rub the bruise on my chest where Marlene had 'accidentally' hit me yesterday morning during school.

"Fiesty. I like it," he smirks. "You think she'd give me a chance?"

"Wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't," I snort.

"And how about Cresta?"

I stop in my tracks and raise my eyebrows at Oliver. The guttural feeling boils in the pit of my stomach again. "You want to be with Cresta? Annie Cresta?"

He snorts and flicks his brown hair out of his eyes. "No. I meant you."

"Annie Cresta?" I repeat, dubiously.

Oliver rolls his eyes. "What other Cresta is there? In case you forgot, Annie's the only female Cresta here."

Grimacing, I push the guilt and the thought of Maya aside while he continues on. "You're always staring at her even though you live with her. You're just one extra lucky guy, eh?"

"Don't talk about her like that," I snap.

"Whoa, bro, chill," he raises his hands up in an innocent manner. "I was joking. Are you jealous?"

The feeling of deja vu washes over me, as I snap back, "No," but think, 'Yes'.

"She has that boyfriend of hers anyway. Ayden, I think?" I continue.

Oliver nods. "Yeah, I see them around quite often. Pretty close but I doubt they're dating - probably just friends who really like each other in their pre-teen stage."

"Oh, you mean like you did with Miss Forbes last year?" I release a loud laugh, recalling the memory of Oliver offering two dozens of blood red roses to our English teacher last year. She'd been flustered, to say the least, and denied the flowers in the most generous way possible but Oliver was a persistent little brat.

He blushes. "We agreed that we would never bring that back up again," he accuses.

A natural smirk settles itself upon my lips. "I never promised. Besides, you said yourself that you found her pretty. There's no problem with that."

"Except for the fact that she's almost double our age."

"Oh, yeah," I agree. "A fourteen - almost fifteen - year old boy proposing to a twenty-seven year old teacher. Nothing wrong about that at all."

"Finnick!"

Oliver and I turn around to find Rhea running towards us, with wind-messed hair and a wild look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

She pants, and rests the palms of her hands on her knees.

"Mum fainted."

A/N: Once again, please review whether you want more chapters to drag out events of the next two years, or to keep it brief and short :)