Brring! Brring! Finnick groaned and groped blindly for the phone. Finally, he found it. "Hello?"
"Finnick, it's good to talk to you again!" The voice on the other end was far too cheery for the time. Finnick glanced at the clock. One PM. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and leaned back in bed. No, maybe he was just lazy. "I'm sorry. Finnick, are you there?"
The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Finnick couldn't locate it. "Yeah, I'm here, but I'm not sure who you are."
"Oh, it has been a long time. I'm Pearl Ondley, the head of the training academy." She paused, waiting for his response.
Finnick remembered Ms. Ondley, but he was having a hard time consolidating the stern, businesslike woman he remembered with the chipper voice on the other end of the line. "Oh, yes, Ms. Ondley. Of course I remember." What was that phrase his Capitol clients always used when they wanted someone to cut to the chase but didn't want to seem rude? "Is this a social call?"
"No, I'm afraid not. I was wondering if you would be able to come to the academy sometime in these next few weeks to talk to the students. It's always good for them to hear from a victor, especially one who's around their age - it makes you more relatable."
"Yeah, I suppose I can do that. Sounds great. Can we figure out the details some other time?"
"Of course. Thank you, Finnick. I and the rest of the academy appreciate it."
He fell asleep again without hanging up.
.oOo.
"So, what am I supposed to talk about?" he asked, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Why had he agreed to this?
Ms. Ondley – though she'd asked that he call her Pearl, Finnick couldn't shake years of habit – smiled. "Just tell them a bit about your life as a victor, and if it's all right, I'll let them ask a few questions."
"That'd be fine. Okay, I'm ready." He squared his shoulders and walked into the small room. Though he shouldn't have been, Finnick was surprised by how few people were there. Fifteen teenagers sat in the small classroom. He remembered a couple of them from his time at the academy, but most were unfamiliar. All of them turned to look at him as he stepped inside. When he reached the front of the classroom, everything he'd planned to say left him. The small crowd stared at him as he gasped for words like a fish out of water struggled for air. "Umm…" he looked at the crowd, trying to remember something, anything, to say to them.
One of the young women smiled at him. He met her gaze and smiled back, and, slowly, his speech returned to him. "Hi, I'm Finnick Odair, and I won four years ago." He told them all about his Games, about the Arena, about the spoils of victory, but he really only spoke to her. She played with a lock of dark hair as she watched him with steady green eyes. The smile never left her face.
None too soon, he was finished. "Thank you," he said to the crowd. It was only truly meant for one student.