(A/N): Third Chapter! Sadly, Reaping day has snuck up on Annie and Finnick, what will it mean for their friendship? Their Future?
Thanks! To:
dorrah: For your gracious comment! Feedback, like yours, influences me to put effort into my writing, something I'll need if I'm going to write such a lengthy story.
~teacuppig
"You'll be alright darling," Mrs. Cresta soothes as she ties the white ribbon on the back of Annie's Reaping dress. "You've done this before, just be brave and remember your posture."
At this comment, Annie straightens her back and squares her shoulders, giving a weak smile to her reflection in the mirror. In a half hour, she and her mother will need to be accounted for at the town square, in front of the ancient Justice Building. If not, they will be severely punished; the Peacekeepers are strict and abundant in District 4. To arrive late is never to arrive at all.
Annie studies herself in the mirror while her mother hurries off to ready herself. The knee-length green dress Annie is wearing accents the slight curves she has already at age thirteen, and her dark brown hair cascades down her back in their usual waves. Overall, she looks beautiful, but feels as though she is buried, suffocating, under a pile of stones.
All too soon, her mother is ready, wearing in a plain white dress, and they make their way to the Reaping. Annie tries not to look too frightened and nervous, as she doesn't want anyone to take her for a weakling if she is chosen. Their district escort this year, Rita Margo, already stands on the large stage set up in the square, balancing precariously on a tall pair of shiny heels.
After several more minutes, the entire District 4 is waiting anxiously to see whose child, whose friend, whose life will be whisked away to the Capitol, and fight to the death in the Hunger Games. The mayor has just finished his speech, same as every past year, which defines the necessity of the games, of how the districts have supposedly brought this curse upon themselves. From where she stands, Annie can see the glint of bronze hair on a tall figure. Finnick. He stands amongst the other fourteen year old boys, wearing a crisp white dress shirt and khaki pants. He listens to the end of the speech with aggravation shown plainly on his face.
Over the last few days, Annie has found herself spending more and more time with Finnick; bumping into each other at the pier, swimming at their secret beach. They've become great friends, but at the worst time possible, because now Rita is waddling over to the glass bowls that contain the names of the children who will be reaped.
"Let's do our ladies first, shall we?" she trills.
Reaching a dainty hand into the first bowl, she pulls out a single folded slip of paper, and holds it up to her face dramatically. Annie's heart pounds and she's sure that if she does get called, they'll have to drag her unconscious body to the stage.
"Sharla Ramer."
A large girl with tanned skin steps through the crowd from the seventeen's section, making her way with purposeful strides. An old woman who clutches the hand of a little boy begins to sob silently. Her family.
And though Annie is relieved that she was not chosen, she knows that the girl standing on stage had friends, had dreams, maybe she even had a lover, and that makes Annie's heart swell with sympathy.
Rita ushers Sharla along, placing her in an awkward spot between the middle and the edge of the stage. Then Rita clears her throat and reaches a hand into the second bowl.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your male tribute for District 4 is…" she pulls out a name, and has almost read it at loud when she unceremoniously drops it. Annie giggles a little, and Rita picks it up and unfolds it. "Finnick Odair!" she screeches.
The smile is wiped off Annie's face as the beautiful boy walks confidently to the stage, cocky as ever. Several girls in the crowd gasp, and others murmur unhappily. He stands tall on the stage and looks out to the crowd. His and Annie's eyes meet, and he gives her a sad smile, just a twitch in the corners of his mouth.
Finnick? Impossible. Annie thinks. Just yesterday they were lounging on the sand, him reassuring her of the miniscule chance that either of them would get picked. But there he is, smirking at the audience flirtatiously.
"My, my," Rita breathes, running her eyes up and down Finnick's body. Then she regains focus, and calls out in her normal cheery voice, "District 4, your tributes of the 65th Annual Hunger Games!"
(A/N): Yes, yes, it's a short chapter, I know. But I needed it to end here, because the next chapter will be third-person-Finnick's-POV! I will alternate between him and Annie, as both of their thoughts and emotions are important in understanding the story.