Chapter Fifteen
After we send the kids to their training session, Finnick and I make our way down to the sponsor floor. Finnick hasn't said much about what to expect, and he takes a deep breath before the elevator door opens to the floor and we walk out.
This time, Finnick doesn't have to announce that he's arrived—everyone notices. Capitol men and women flock to Finnick, each vying for his attention, and Finnick appears to eat it up, which I know is a front he's putting on for them. He laughs amiably, winks at a few people, and lets them touch him.
"You guys remember Annie, right?" Finnick asks them, gesturing to me behind them. "She's got an awesome tribute this year, too. A volunteer, and so strong. Did you see his muscles in that suit last night? He'd be sure to win in hand-to-hand combat."
Knowing this is my chance to chime in, I say, "He's skilled too, at spearing with tridents and at swimming. And he hasn't talked about it yet, but I'm sure he's good with nets, just like Finnick."
The sponsors nod and make agreeable noises to me, but their attention quickly turns back to Finnick. I realize that I'm not going to get much attention while he's around, so I tell Finnick I'm going to make my way around the room.
My heart feels like it's trying to jump out of my body and I'm worried I might be sick, but I keep reminding myself I'm doing this for Thompson, and I approach some Capitol people on the other side of the room.
"Hi," I say, not really sure how to start the conversation.
"Annie, right?" A man with pink curls says in an analytical tone, looking me up and down. "Who is it you're mentoring this year?"
"Better hope he doesn't lose his head—literally or metaphorically, am I right?" The man next to him says, and the two laugh. "You don't have a good track record for preventing either of those things happening." I hear a few other people around us join in the laughter.
I fight the impulse to run away and cry, and take a deep breath. "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen. But Thompson—he's my tribute—is already a strong candidate to be Victor. He volunteered, which means he's prepared. He's strong and he's talented with a lot of different weapons, and it's only the beginning of the training week. Just think how much better he'll be by the end."
The two men nod and smile, before looking at me as if they're wondering why I'm still standing there, and I know that the conversation is over. I swallow hard, and walk away.
The rest of the morning feels like agony. It's much harder than I thought it would be to talk to the sponsors. The way they talk about the tributes, it's as if they don't even see them as humans. To them, the people of the Districts are less than animals—just frivolous things that provide them entertainment throughout the year, their lives meaning nothing more than how excited they can make the sponsors. They're awful to the Avoxes who serve them food and drinks too. One man knocks a tray of food out of a young girl's hands in anger, and when I rush to help her pick it up, he scolds me and says something about District trash not knowing how to behave. I feel sick by the end of the morning. Every time I've looked at Finnick throughout the morning, he's been surrounded by a large group of people. We make eye contact at one point and he gives me a brief grimace before a woman near him leans in to kiss Finnick, right on the lips, and Finnick's eyes widen in shock for a second before he closes them. My heart aches for him, seeing him being taken advantage of like this and having to pretend he likes it. He said that he gets a break from seeing clients when he gets to mentor—one of the perks of it—but I guess even then he doesn't fully escape the Capitol's lusts.
When we're alone in the elevator, heading upstairs for lunch, Finnick's hand finds mine, and I take it, leaning my head on his shoulder.
"That was worse than I thought it would be," I say.
"I know. I wasn't sure how to prepare you for—well, for how cruel the sponsors can be. We beg them for money that's barely anything to them, but to the tributes that pocket change means the difference between life and death, and the sponsors only care about what they can get out of it."
The elevator door opens and I quickly untangle myself from Finnick, each of us taking a step apart before exiting onto our floor.
After lunch, we decide to take a break from the sponsors and make our way to the mentor floor. Our communicuffs show that we both have already raised some money for our tributes.
The mentors from One and Two are sitting in the same spot as the day before when we get there, and they're all laughing. They look up when they see us enter the room.
"Hey, Odair!" Calls Ronan. "Settle this for us. Would you rather die in the first blood bath, or be the second-to-last tribute?"
Is this what they talk about?
Finnick takes a moment to consider, crossing his arms over his chest. "Blood bath," he finally says. "Can't think of anything worse than almost winning."
Cardell and Brutus high five each other, and Ronan scowls.
"See, Ronan?" Cardell laughs.
Cashmere looks unamused, sitting on the end of the seating. She picks at her nails and rolls her eyes. "Anyway, children," she says, even though the rest of the mentors are clearly older than she is. "Let's get down to business." She looks at the mentors sitting beside her before settling her gaze on me. "Our tributes want to team up with yours, Annie."
I'm almost shocked that she's addressing me directly, but I quickly recover. "That's great! I was hoping Thompson could be allies with them."
"We've also been eyeing the male tribute from ten, I'd better go talk with Mink," Brutus says in his commanding voice, getting up to cross the room toward a freckly blonde woman.
The rest of the week is more of the same. I keep hoping each day it will get easier, but it doesn't. The sponsors are just as awful and I feel just as awkward with the other mentors each day. We start the day by giving our tributes advice over breakfast before sending them off to training, and then we split our time between talking with sponsors and hanging out with the other mentors who are also taking a break from training or talking with sponsors. I swear some of the mentors never even go down to the sponsor floor. I don't blame them for not wanting to, but I can't help but feel that it's the least we can do to fight for our tributes. Finnick, ever the social one, bounces between all the mentors, making dark jokes with them and discussing their tributes.
I find myself gravitating towards the pair of mentors from District Six. They're quiet like me, and I find their presence refreshing, if not comfortable. When I approach them the first time, they offer me some morphling. I feel dizzy, remembering that night when I was drugged with the stuff. "No, thank you," I say, unsure if I should leave them alone after rejecting their offer.
"No worries," the woman, Lilia says.
"Probably for the best," Garner adds in. "This stuff'll rot your teeth and make your skin sag like ours."
"Not a bad fate, when you consider it makes us unappealing to the people of the Capitol," Lilia says. "But still, not for everyone."
"I'd never be able to make it through the Games sober, that's for sure," Garner says.
Lilia nods solemnly, and pops a pill into her mouth.
"Do you like art, Annie?" Garner asks.
"I do, actually, though I'm not good at it myself."
Garner pulls out a sketchbook and shows me some of his drawings. Pictures of trains, landscapes, and some portraits. I recognize one of them as a younger self-portrait of himself.
"These are beautiful," I say, grateful to see something actually beautiful and not Capitol garish for once this week.
I look around the room and lock eyes with Finnick. He lifts his eyebrows questioningly, and I give him a smile. He returns the smile, his dimples showing, before returning to his conversation with Chaff and Haymitch.
After that, I spend most of my time with Lilia and Garner. They don't talk much, and I'm free to just sit beside them. A few times I'm caught up in an episode, and they're watching me when I come out with curious looks on their faces.
"Where d'you go when that happens?" Lilia asks on the day before the interviews.
I shudder. "Most of the time it's back to the arena, but sometimes it's here in the Capitol, or else it's just flashes of images…" My voice trails off as I'm hit with another round of visions.
This time, when I'm come to, Finnick is there, kneeling in front of me. He hands me a glass of water.
"Thanks, Finnick," I say. He gives a brief smile, but I can see he's worried. "I'm okay. You go have fun." I nod my head over to the group of mentors from Seven and Ten he'd been with earlier.
"Never had more fun than when I'm with you," Finnick says, and it makes my heart skip a beat. "C'mon, I think we've solidified the alliances for our tributes enough and I've got more than enough sponsor money. Let's head back to our room for the day."
We order some food for ourselves and sit on the couch, snacking and talking. Finnick tells me about the time he tried to learn how to sew.
"I always thought I could do anything if I put my mind to it, but no matter how many times I tried, I could never get the seams right," Finnick says with a laugh. "You should see the shorts I tried making for myself, they're ridiculous."
I laugh. "I'd love to see them." After thinking for a minute, I add. "That reminds me of the time I tried to catch this stray cat. She had been coming around our house for weeks and I would put out food for her. I thought that eventually, she'd trust me enough that I could hold her, but every time I'd reach toward her, she'd run away. Once, she scratched me and it left this scar," I lift up my hand before remembering the full body polish the Capitol did removed the scar. "Anyways," I say a little distractedly and shake my head. "There was this little boy from down the street who went up to her once and she jumped right in his arms. I was so glad that she finally found someone she liked that I started crying and the little boy looked at me like I was crazy. I wonder what he thought of me when I did actually go crazy."
Finnick narrows his eyes at me, but when he sees me start to laugh, he joins in. Although I'm embarrassed about it most of the time, I'm glad that I can at least joke about it with Finnick and Mags sometimes. Makes it a little easier to deal with.
We're still laughing when Thompson comes in. He must've finished his session with the Game Makers.
Feeling suddenly anxious, I sit up and ask, "How did it go?"
Thompson puffs out his chest and puts on a smile. "I showed 'em my best throws with the spears, and made a human-sized twitch-up snare in less than five minutes. I'd say I rocked it."
Relief settles over me and I smile. "That's great!"
Eleanor arrives shortly after and Finnick asks how she did.
Eleanor shrugs. "Okay, I guess. I tried a little bit of everything I've practiced this week. Shot some arrows and hit the target, punched some bags, threw some knives." I can see the hint of a smile on her face, and I know she's proud of herself.
"That's great! I'm sure you did awesome. Get some dinner and we can all watch the scores together when they come on later tonight." Finnick says.
I give a sigh of relief when Thompson scores an eight and Eleanor gets a seven.
"Well done!" I say, giving Thompson a high five.
"You guys certainly 'rocked it,'" Finnick says with a smile, hearkening back to Thompson's earlier comment. "Now remember, tomorrow's all about the interview and it'll be a long day for you guys, so make sure to get some rest."
Figuring out Thompson's angle for his interview the next day is a no-brainer—confident. He's been nothing but confident since he volunteered. We practice a few interview questions before I send him off to Yardley to go over etiquette and then the stylists to get ready for the show.
I feel anxious about the interviews even though I know I'm not the one being interviewed. I think about the last time I was on the stage after my Games, trying to get the image of Miguel's body on the hospital bed out of my mind because I know now it wasn't real.
I look around the waiting room, all the other mentors laughing and talking amiably with each other, and I wonder how long it took them to get like this—to get over the reminders of the traumas they went through at their own Games being brought up by each step of the mentoring process. I make a note to ask Finnick about it tonight, if he's up for talking about it.
Finnick finds my eyes from across the room and smiles, and for a moment, it's as if everything else dissolves. I smile back, feeling that healing sensation I get with Finnick even though we're not speaking.
"You wanna drink?" Haymitch asks me, his drink sloshing in his hand as he holds it up to me.
"I'm okay, " I say, hoping I don't sound rude. Apparently Mags never said no to a drink at the Games, and I'm worried Haymitch is disappointed in me, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't like the stuff.
"Suit yourself," he replies before finding his way to Chaff. Chaff greets him with that drawn out 'hey,' and the two clink their cups together before taking a sip.
I look around for Lilia and Garner, but they both look too spaced out to be any kind of company, so I join Finnick and the District Seven mentors.
"Annie, looks like you joined us just in time," Finnick says, gesturing to the screen on the wall. The interviews are beginning.
I laugh, but I'm not sure why. I shake my head, take a deep breath and swallow. Finnick looks at me with concern, and grabs my hand. I look around, worried about people seeing, but it's just the mentors and some Avoxes in here, and all of the mentors are staring at the screen.
Finnick laughs and shakes his head when Caesar Flickerman, his hair and eyebrows dyed a bright red-orange, says it's going to be the best Games yet.
The tributes all seem to handle the interview fairly well, leaning into their determined angles to show off for the sponsors. Eleanor comes across as very analytical, and she doesn't hesitate to answer any of the questions. Thompsons seems like he can't get enough of the attention from Caesar and the live audience, and it looks like he's genuinely having a good time.
My heart sinks when the girl from District Seven, Johanna Mason, enters the stage. She's visibly trembling, and starts crying as soon as Caesar asks her the first question about how she's liking the Capitol. She seems to be genuinely sad about being parted from her family, and terrified to be in the Games. The poor girl only scored a three last night, and this interview isn't making up for it.
"Leif, did you know your tribute was so scared? You could've at least given her something to help calm her before the interview. She won't last a day in that arena, if she can even get through this," Finnick says, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows slightly knit together.
Leif just laughs and folds his arms across his chest.
"It's funny to you?" Finnick asks. "Well I guess that makes it easier on the rest of us. One less tribute to worry about."
"It's funny that her plan is working," Leif responds, his voice amused.
"Her plan?" I ask, curious about what he means.
Leif simply says, "You'll see." A grin stretches across his face as he looks back up to the screen, his tribute wiping her eyes with a handkerchief Caesar hands her.
A few of the other mentors in the room start high fiving, apparently thinking what Finnick had just said—one less tribute to worry about. I see a flash of something in Johanna's eyes before she leaves the stage, and I wonder if Leif was right about this being part of her plan, and what kind of plan it could be to appear so weak. Certainly it won't help her get sponsors—the sponsors don't care about a tribute's human emotions.
But I remind myself I can't worry about Johanna Mason, I have to worry about Thompson and getting him out of the arena alive. I can't save everyone, not even if I tried.
That last thought haunts me as I lay in bed that night, trying to will myself to sleep but instead being pulled into a barrage of visions that lead to nightmares.
