Step, step, twirl, thrust, turn, twirl, swing, jab, step, thrust.
The quiet echoes of tributes training further down range dampen any audible proof of the young Victor's exercise. His footsteps, precise and sure, tread lightly on the soft mat. Strong fingers effortlessly spin the trident in tight revolutions as muscles rhythmically ripple in time. Artificial light highlights each ridge and contour of his exposed, tanned, torso and a hint of sweat shimmers across his brow. His face is relaxed and calm just as his breathing. Even his eyes appear to be closed.
Suddenly, he spins the trident around his back and sends it into the air, keeping his gaze to the ground and with two gliding steps, he turns and catches the weapon at his waist. It gives a quiet ring as it hits his palm.
"Like what you see?" Finnick asks with his back turned to me. I am amazed he notices my presence, even though I am sure the shadows conceal me among the pillars. His words bring me out of my daze and I realize I am still staring when he continues, "I never did like these training uniforms. Too constricting."
"Peeta said you wanted to see me," I say, clearing my throat and stepping onto the padded mat. After changing into a new uniform and scrubbing as much of the yellow grease paint from my arms and face, I gave in to the curiosity sparked by Finnick's request to talk to me.
The trident starts to move again in Finnick's hands as he turns around. Seeing the flash of metal work its way towards me, I stop and feel the urge to retreat.
"Oh, hey, there's nothing to worry about. You didn't kill any of my tributes." He gives the trident another flip and sets the butt down with a loud bang, making me jump.
"You know how these games work. I just-"
"Did what you had to do? I know. All of us know. Only Cashmere made the mistake of getting too close to Glimmer. That's one part of these games you'll never know like the rest of us."
"Look, if I wanted a lecture from a mentor, I'd talk to mine. I already got an earful from Haymitch yesterday," I say and cross my arms over my chest.
Finnick's stance relaxes and he grabs hold of his trident with both hands and leans against it. "Oh, you've got me all wrong. Sure, I am a fellow contender, but I could possibly be an ally," he says, lifting an eyebrow.
"I don't want an ally. It didn't turn out so great last time."
Finnick gives a solemn nod. "Sure, another thing we all know too well. But while we're alive and kickin' down here, buried deep in the basement, I think we can help each other out."
I hate that stupid smile of his.
"What did you have in mind?" I learned my lesson with Cashmere; trusting Finnick gives me an uneasy feeling.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe we can trade. You show me how to shoot and I can show you how to use this without poking your eye out," Finnick says, slowly gliding one hand up and down the metal in an obvious attempt to make me uncomfortable.
I put my hands up and turn to walk away. "Nope. I'm done with combat training. Pick up a bow and figure it out with the others."
"I wasn't finished. We can make it interesting."
"With what? Kisses for bulls-eyes?" I say with a huff and turn around.
"Kind of. Instead of kisses, although I do like that idea, what do you say to secrets? You know I have plenty," he says as he resumes twirling the trident in one hand. "And maybe you can tell me what that yellow shit is on your ear."
I rub my ear and look at my fingers. Sure enough, I missed some paint Peeta used to make me disappear into a bed of flowers.
"You really didn't see me?" I ask.
"When? I thought you were hiding in the bathroom again."
I smile and rub my fingers together, dissolving the paint into small flecks. "I was hiding in the flowers."
Finnick raises an eyebrow at my confession. "No shit? Bread Boy has some skills after all. Maybe this year he can score some parachutes with cave paintings."
"Forget it. Just make sure the pointy end of the arrow is facing away from you and you'll do fine." I step off of the mat and head for the steps.
"Cashmere is afraid of heights," Finnick calls after me. I stop and look over my shoulder and see he now has his trident over his shoulders with both hands draped over the shaft; his smile is smugger than ever. "And Brutus, he hates fire."
I creep back onto the mat, my feet driven by his notion. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Like I said, to make things more interesting. And c'mon, how else am I going to get you to show me how to shoot?"
"One hour. That's it. I'll tell you one of my secrets if you hit a bulls-eye."
- O -
"That's it, draw it all the way back to your chin. Hold on, loosen up your fingers. See how the arrow fell off your bow hand? Okay, put it down. Let's try again."
"Ugh, Dad, this is really hard."
"I know, but you'll get the hang of it. Now, your arrow is already nocked, don't pinch your fingers together. There you go. Okay, when you lift your bow, draw at the same time, like this. See, nice and fluid. That's it, all the way back to your chin. Remember your shoulders. Ah, watch that elbow. There you go. Now... loose."
"Aw, too low."
"But you hit the tree this time. Remember how that felt. Now adjust and aim a little higher. Go on, get another arrow."
"My arm hurts. Look, it's already bruising."
"That's 'cause you're all double jointed. It's a girl thing. Remember to turn your elbow out and the string won't hit you. I'll make you an arm guard for next time. Okay, strong shoulders this time. And when you release- Watch, Katniss, look at me. When you release, bring your hand back to your ear, like you are brushing hair off your face. That's right. Okay, let's try it again."
"It's getting dark. What about the fence?"
"Just a few more and we'll head back, okay? It's too hot for the fence to come on this early anyway. All the power is going to the shops and state buildings. Alright, remember to aim a bit higher. With your arm, don't lean back, you're all wonky. There you go, very nice. When you're ready."
"Dad! I hit it! Gimme another arrow!"
...
"I had fun today."
"I'm glad. It'll be nice to have a hunting partner."
"Naw, you just want someone to lug all this stuff for you."
"Hey, that stuff is food. Wouldn't it be nice to have a little extra on the table? I don't want you to ever have to take a tesserae."
"I know. It just sucks that we can't just buy our food."
"Katniss, look at me, hey, don't you ever, ever, rely on what the Capitol gives us. You might not see it yet, but they don't care about us. Not here in 12 anyway. You know how many hours I work in the mines and all the people your mom takes care of, yet we barely get by."
"But what if we get caught?"
"You can keep a secret, can't you? Well, this is just a bigger, more important secret. You want to see your sister grow up big and strong, yeah? And you want to help your mom by gathering herbs for her medicine? Just do what I tell you and we won't get caught."
"I understand. Hey, Dad? Can you sing somethin'? I like it when the mockingjays sing along."
"Sure. Let's see. Remember what the jabberjays were, right?"
"Yeah. They're like the mockingjays, but they could talk."
"I was a child
Running wild on the mountain
I knew secrets
I collected my charms
and carried them down the great big valley
I felt two eyes on me
Of his feathers I'm warned
That he would take every word I
Had ever spoken
I held on to my secret
I knew I had to keep it
He followed me down
Onto a wilted meadow
His words grew stronger
Deceit filled his wings
Gazing down to the water
I find my paradise
and I took out my secret
I knew I could not keep it
In the silence
Hiding deep down
Me and my charm
Shall never surface
He'll never sing of my secrets
I have a secret that can change the way the people think
I have a secret that can change the way you think of me"
- O -
"What are you humming?" Finnick asks as he picks out another arrow from his quiver.
"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just thinking of home." After some basic pointers, I told Finnick to shoot a few rounds to get the feel of it. Watching him fumble with the arrows reminded me of when I could barely hit a tree from ten yards. "Stand up straight, you're leaning forward too much."
"You're lucky you're going back into the arena right away. You'd have been pretty popular back in the Capitol humming nothing," he says as he draws back the arrow to the anchor point at his jaw. Even though he put his shirt back on, I can see his shoulders flex under the thin polyester of his training uniform. His posture may be bit sloppy, but for some reason, I don't mind.
"How is the arena better than the Capitol?"
He releases the arrow, sending it high and to the right on the flat, square target. Looking over his shoulder, he says, "You'll figure it out at the Sponsors Ball."
"What, they're going to make me get up and sing? Yeah, I'd prefer the arena too." I get up from my seat on the floor and step closer to Finnick at the twenty-yard marker.
"All I am saying is you might have to perform for those parachutes," he says, cocking an eyebrow.
"You don't mean-"
"You know what, don't worry about it," Finnick continues as he loads his bow again, keeping his eyes forward. "Your engagement might be a better idea than you thought. Believe it or not, these Capitol people have some respect."
"Don't you have someone back home? And you still... perform?"
"Okay, not that much. We aren't as official as you and Blondie. Damn, I keep hitting the top right."
"You're not centering yourself. Straighten out your left arm; you're pulling up when you draw. Bring your shoulder blades together and stick out your chest a bit, like this." I stretch out my left arm and set my right hand at my jaw, easily falling into my archer's stance with my shoulders back and chest out.
Finnick's eyes drop and he gives a wicked grin. "I think I get it now."
"Oh shut up, get another arrow." I give him a playful shove and look over my shoulder to see how interested the Gamemakers are in our session. I lean forward and lower my voice. "You know Peeta and I aren't really official. We only did it because Snow thinks-"
"Those berries were a big middle finger to the Capitol?" Finnick whispers, glancing up at the mezzanine. "I think Haymitch is right, you're not smart enough for that kind of stunt."
"Gee, thanks. I wonder what else you and Haymitch have to say about me," I mumble and think how horrible an idea this is.
"You and Peeta need to spice up your act. People are already getting bored and from the little whispers left on my pillow, the outer districts couldn't give a shit about the wedding."
Stepping back, I watch Finnick fire a few more rounds and try to focus on his shooting instead of his comment regarding Peeta and myself. Finnick is actually listening to my instructions and the arrows start to fall closer to the center.
"Much better," I commend much louder this time, keeping the training portion of our conversation as natural as possible for those bothering to listen.
I step forward and lightly place my hand on Finnick's shoulder and quietly continue the other part of our bargain. "I still can't figure out why they think I'm anything special in the first place."
"You also took out a Gamemaker. The dirtiest, most fucked up Gamemaker, I might add. So why stop there?"
"All Gamemakers are fucked up, what do you mean?" When he pulls back the bowstring, I can tell from his shoulders he has become tense from the new topic.
"Let's just say he plays a dirtier game outside of the control room. I'm glad he's dead." He puts emphasis on this last word when he fires, then immediately sets down his bow and heads for the target to retrieve his arrows.
Suddenly I realize it wasn't just the rich Capitol citizens vying for his attention. Who else would be more obsessed with the Victor than his own Gamemaker? My nose wrinkles at the idea of two men together and the thought of Finnick running his fingers through Crane's ridiculous beard.
"Here I thought running from tribute-faced mutts was screwed up. What do you think about Plutarch?" After our little chat at the party, I was curious about Plutarch's motives and maybe a different Gamemaker would ease the tension.
"I'm surprised they let him come back as the Head Gamemaker." Finnick returns to the line with a full quiver, ready for another round and from the look on his face, another topic. "He was pretty close to getting the same treatment as Crane."
"Watch your posture." I step forward again and place my hand on his shoulder, muscles flicker under my fingers. "Bring your shoulders back and drop your elbow a bit, it's too high. There you go, remember to breathe." I step back and line my sight up with his. "When you're ready." Finnick slowly breathes out and fires. The arrow plunges into the target just outside the red of the bulls-eye.
"There you go, much better. Try it again." I clear my throat, not sure if Finnick is ready to continue our conversation, but my curiosity urges me to ask him about Plutarch. "So what did he do to step down?"
An odd grin appears on Finnick's face, like he remembered the punch line to an inside joke. "He offed that mayor's kid, remember? That boulder that came loose from the 'earthquake.' " Finnick pulls another arrow and nocks it with ease while he speaks. "A lot of people lost a lot of money on that game. Plus, Snow wanted to prove to the districts the higher ups were untouchable."
"So why would they let him back in?"
"You have a certain effect on people. I guess he is the only one who isn't afraid of you."
Finnick is right. Plutarch said no one else stepped up because of the responsibility of how the Games turn out. Really, no one wants the responsibility of making sure I don't survive.
I look back up to the mezzanine and sure enough, Plutarch is standing at the railing with his eyes on me. Shouts from a few stations over draw my attention and I think up of another question for Finnick.
"What's up with Johanna?" I motion to where Johanna is jumping from obstacle to obstacle, chasing after a trainer with a foam weapon. Her war cry can be heard echoing off of the walls. "Looks like she finally found her uniform. Seriously, why all of the nudity? Did you hear about the elevator?"
"Oh that? That's her way of being in control, I guess. She's lost a lot since she won. She may seem crazy, but that's her way of keeping it together, especially being so far away from her home in 7."
Coffee fills my senses and my stomach lurches.
7.
"I've had victors before... 4 and 7."
"Wait, she's the only female Victor from 7, right?" Johanna's behavior doesn't make sense to me, especially if what Thread said is true, but who else could it have been?
"Yeah, why? Damnit, so close."
"You know the rules, hit a bull and I will tell you what I know."
"Fair enough."
Finnick's silence tempts the words from my mouth; my throat contracts, desperately trying to keep them in, but my tongue betrays me.
"I might have something in common with her." I continue to watch a screaming Johanna being pulled away by two assistants as she throws broken bits of foam at the poor trainer on the floor.
"What, because you're the only females from your districts?"
"No. I think we may have gone through some of the same stuff back home."
Suddenly, Finnick is standing in front of me, arrow in one hand, bow in the other. I look up at his green eyes, too stunned to move. Finnick hisses so as not to raise his voice and call attention from the other tributes. "Don't you ever compare yourself to her. You have a family. You have Peeta. You still have your dignity. She would've had everything if it weren't for..." he pauses to compose himself, but really it seems like he is holding something back. "She was forced into these games. You volunteered."
"You think I had a choice? My sister was called, goddamnit!" My voice almost cracking in the attempt to keep a low volume. "Johanna's name was drawn by chance."
"On purpose! They rigged it! Because of something she did, she was forced."
Finnick keeps his voice low, but raises the arrow, bringing fletching just inches from my nose. "That girl has been to hell and back, and you say you two have something in common."
"Forget it. This was a bad idea," I mutter and lower my eyes. There is much more to this game than I will ever understand and I am still a rookie compared to these other Victors. Who knows what they have done to stay in the game.
From our position, Finnick turns and fires at the target. "Huh, would ya look at that... a bulls-eye."
I look up at the board and sure enough, the arrow found its way to the center. "Now tell me, what is it that you think you share with Johanna?" His posture shifts and he narrows his eyes at me.
"The same thing as someone from 4."
"The hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I- I... Uhm," I stammer, unsure how I should answer. "Another female Victor from 4, I mean. Maybe from the last ten years."
Finnick's brow furrows for a moment and I can see him piecing everything together as I rattle on about the Victors from 4. Suddenly his eyes grow wide at his conclusion.
I start to count my fingers and name off the list of girls from his home district. "There's Dana, Saranda, Lorne and... uhm, Anna? No. An-"
"He never hurt her. I made sure of that." He lets the bow fall to the floor. Picking up his trident, he turns his back to me; his shoulders now sag with a sigh.
This game of secrets is becoming something we both regret. Before I can say another word, the trident is hurled at the target. It lands right in the center, snapping his previous arrow.
"What do you know about Peacekeeper Thread?" Finnick asks, keeping his back to me.
"Something we both know all too well."
