"I'm your mentor," he says this very calmly, as though it's not bothering him at all. "That's all there is to our relationship. I'm your mentor, and you're my mentee."
I suddenly remember something Dany had told me the day we said goodbye to him for the last time.
Dany wasn't a fighter, either. In fact, he cares more about the English language than anything else (probably more than anyone else, too), and he often points out mistakes that we make in our everyday speech. It used to annoy the hell out of my mother and Ellie, but after his death our home was never the same again without his constant 'butting in'. We would even wait for him to correct us before realizing that he'll never give us another grammar lesson again.
Anyway, when it was my turn to speak, I joked halfheartedly that he should consider himself lucky to be Finnick's mentee. Girls all over Panem must be jealous of him.
"Protégé," he told me with a frown. "Not mentee. What you said was grammatically incorrect."
"Excuse me?" I snorted in disbelief. "We're saying goodbye to each other, and all you can think about is grammar?"
He countered, "We're saying goodbye to each other, and the best you can do is joke about me being Finnick's protégé?"
I'd given up arguing with him after that.
Not that I got another chance to argue with him.
"Protégé," I tell Finnick now, "Not mentee." Finnick stares at me as I say, "What you said is grammatically incorrect."
He stiffens.
Does he know about Dany's love for grammar? Had Dany corrected Finnick in anything? Was Finnick too good at everything to have fault in the English language? Besides the mentee/protégé issue, that is. Dany even said to me (in what I take is his attempt at a "reassuring way") that most people make the mistake of confusing protégé with mentee.
Finnick resumes untying the knots in my hair, pretending that I hadn't interrupted his work.
"What's wrong with you, Finnick?" I groan. "You do realize that it's a sin to toy with a maiden's heart?" Well, I have no idea if that's true, but I had no idea what else to say to him.
"Is it?" he asks quietly.
"Stop answering my questions with another question," I complain, "That's hardly fair!"
He murmurs, in a voice so soft that I almost missed, "Then I suppose I'll be going to Hell, eh?"
After a moment, he adds more loudly, "Life's not fair, Annie."
"Well, isn't that cliché?" I ask dryly. "I'm about to die, and you're giving me mixed signals? You kiss me, and now you tell me that it wasn't appropriate?" I can't stop myself from rambling, and I can feel tears of frustration burning in my eyes. "What are you trying to say, Finnick? I don't get you. Maybe that's why I'm attracted to you, because you're one big mystery that I can't solve. You lure me in deeper, yet push me away at the last minute."
Somehow, it feels easier to say my theories out loud. I don't care if he's listening, as long as he's there.
"You're just—you're just—" I take a deep breath as I try to think of the most appropriate word to describe him—"enigmatic."
He's like a one million piece puzzle that's impossible to solve.
I think back to the time when I first met him, and even before that, too, when he acted like a spoiled rich kid who's arrogant, gorgeous, and annoying in general. Then there's the side to him that's drowned in guilt and despair.
"Shh," Finnick says abruptly, and puts a finger on my lips to silence me. I stop immediately. "It's time, Annie."
My stomach does a backflip. No, no, no! Can't I just have a few more minutes alone with him? I'll do anything!
He hops off my bed.
My hand automatically reach into my hair, and I let out a gasp as I find that my hair is no longer tangled.
Finnick gives me a little smile. "We'll continue this conversation after you win, my little mermaid," he promises. With these last words still hanging in the air, he leaves my room and gently closes the door behind him.
And it's this little smile, this strange little thing, which lights a tiny spark inside me. As though I still have hope.
As though there's a chance that I can win.
I have to win. Yes, I must. Not only for my mother and Ellie, but in order for me to finally understand Finnick Odair.
Not even five minutes later, Sandra comes to collect me. I follow her numbly as she escorts me to the launch room. There, I shower and dress in the jumpsuit that all tributes wear into the arena. Sandra ties the necklace that Finnick gave me for my district token around my neck, and I rub the single pearl between my fingers. It feels comforting.
"Anything to eat?" Sandra offers. I shake my head. I do accept a glass of water, though, and sip it quietly as we wait for the launch time.
It's not long before the time comes. I enter the launch tube, but not before Sandra envelopes me in one last hug. "May the odds be ever in your favor," she whispers into my ear. I don't know why, but I giggle.
It must be all this stress.
The tube rises. Slowly and painfully.
It stops.
I'm officially in the arena. The countdown to the time when we're allowed to get off the platform begins.
I get a view of my surroundings for the first time. The tributes are spread out in a circle, and in the middle of this circle is the Cornucopia. I can see all sorts of goods and weapons scattered on the ground.
Finnick told me to avoid it. I have to listen to him, no matter how tempting the items are.
Looking around, I spot a dam in the distance. I've learned about them in District Four.
Where there's dams, there's water.
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. "It appears that the odds are in my favor, after all."
That's when Claudius Templesmith's voice booms, "Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Seventieth Hunger Games begin!"
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belongs to the amazing Suzanne Collins.
160 reviews! You guys are awesome! Thank you all so much! (I'm debating whether to write a Finnick POV story after this, and have it act as a companion to the current story. What do you guys think?)
A slightly shorter chapter, but the Games start in the next! Hehehe..
*sarcastically* I wonder who will win? (not that it's obvious or anything!)