CHAPTER 19
The NotebookOlive moved her fork around her plate, not feeling like eating breakfast at all. The Victor's interview with Caesar Flickerman would be that evening, and it was safe to say she had no desire to go, or participate. About halfway done with her food, someone sat beside her. Finnick, who had disappeared from her room before she woke up, began eating while listening to Piscia's usual morning complaints.
"I'll get abducted by my prep team once we get to the Capitol, won't I?" She asked in a hushed tone, trying not to drive the escort's attention to them.
"Yes," Finnick answered, looking at her with a smirk. "Good luck. Remember, you can't curse in front of them, nor at them."
Olive sighed. "That's going to make things way easier."
"And then, there's the party with the Sponsors," Finnick pointed out.
"Oh, God." Olive buried her face in her hands, wanting nothing more than to make the day pass in a matter of seconds. "I forgot."
"And then . . ." Finnick paused for dramatic effect. "We go home."
She raised her head, looking straight into his eyes with a smile. "That I like."
"Thought you would." He chuckled.
Piscia slammed her hand on the table, prompting both of them to jump slightly. Their escort was having a hard time arguing with Librae, who couldn't seem to care enough to express any emotions. Ron and Mags exchanged glances, trying to decide whether to intervene or let both women continue with the bickering.
"Piscia, you're being unreasonable. Olive is just seventeen. Doesn't matter if she's close to being off-age, people looking at her like that is disgusting." Librae laid back in her seat.
"Olive's a handsome young man—I mean beautiful young woman. She deserves the attention and care everyone has for her. How could you say something so insensitive?" Piscia shouted.
Olive moved forward on her sit and folded her arms over her chest. "What do you mean by attention?"
Piscia took a deep breath in and out, forcing herself to smile at Olive as she used her usual cheery voice. "Well, what do you think? You're a sensation in the Capitol! No one can take their eyes off you. I tell you, you'll continue to be popular for a long time."
The air got stuck in Olive's throat. Her mentors' words appeared in her mind. Being popular wouldn't be good. The chances of being sold off incremented. Her family would be in danger. Somehow, that reality was becoming more present in her mind, engulfing any other thoughts. Her family. Her siblings and father. Dead. Because of her.
Her instincts kicked in; she had to leave. She needed to be in an open space, something that could let her relax. Although no place like that could be found in a Capitol installation, she decided the room assigned to her would work. It was spacious and closed. Perfect to keep Capitol's eyes from peeking at her distressed state.
Through ragged breaths, and after giving a short and shaky excuse, Olive walked to her room. She paced around, walking from one end to the other. Objects kept appearing in her way, or perhaps she was too lost in her thoughts to realise they were there. There was no way to tell what was in front of her. Her blurry sight didn't allow her to see much through the tears. At some point, her hands clasped in front of her mouth as she pressed them against her lips.
Olive's own thoughts were consuming her. The worry, fear, and anticipation of what could happen to her family overtook parts of her mind that left her like a puppet; repeating the same steps aimlessly. Her body acted on its own, she had no control over it. In fact, she had no control over anything. Everything was messed up. Out of place.
Her mind, just like a falling puzzle, was falling apart.
Something was slipping out of her grasp. She felt it disappear, bit by bit. But what was it? Her eyes closed, trying to concentrate on her memories. She didn't want to forget. She didn't want it to happen again.
Like a reflex, her hand went to her mother's keepsake; the golden earring she had cared for so long. But even that didn't help her.
"Olive, are you OK?" Finnick came in, practically running to her.
Olive paused, opened her eyes, and stared at him. "Finnick?" She muttered under her breath, taking in her surroundings. "Why are we on the train? We were in District Four just yesterday. Victor's Tour is still a week away."
Finnick held her stare but didn't answer. He stood there, looking at her, concern and fear slowly showing in his eyes. "No . . ."
His whisper alarmed Olive, who took a step back, analysing the room with her eyes. She sat down on the bed, her hands falling onto her lap. "I forgot again, didn't I?" Her eyes rose to meet her friend's. "Finnick . . ."
"No, it's OK," he assured, immediately taking a seat beside her on the bed. "It's alright. It'll be alright. I'm here. I got you."
Tears escaped Olive's eyes, running down her cheeks to her chin. Her voice was shaky and unsure. "What if I forget you?"
"Then I'll make you trust me again," he replied, bringing her into a tight hug. "I'll be with you, and I'll help you. I—We will figure something out."
"Why did I forget again? Why? I don't want to. I'm scared. I don't want to forget," Olive cried through her words, stopping at some points to sniff or breathe through her mouth. She buried her face in Finnick's chest, trying to hide the mess it had become. "I hate this. I want to go home. I—"
Finnick shushed her gently as he stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. "It'll be fine. We'll be there tomorrow morning. You'll be home soon, I promise."
A knock on the door made Finnick tilt his head slightly towards the door. He didn't answer, nor demonstrate their presence in the room, but Four's victors were past the point of waiting for an answer. They all froze as their eyes landed on the scene; Finnick hugging Olive, who had her face hidden, but was notoriously crying.
"Olive," Ron began, "I know what it must look like. We promise we'll try our best to keep anything like that from happening."
Finnick gave Ron a harsh stare and motioned him to not say anything else. The victor looked at him, puzzled. Librae seemed to be catching up to the actual situation, but she didn't say a thing, as she wasn't sure. Mags was the one to take a step forward, carrying a sort of notebook that she gave to Olive, who let go of Finnick's shirt.
"A notebook?" Olive asked, her eyes travelling from the object to her mentor.
"A diary," Mags corrected through mumbles. "I was going to give it to you tonight, but now's the time."
Olive stared at the diary. Nothing stood out about it; a regular-sized notebook with the word 'diary' written in a lighter brown than the one on the cover. She could imagine what Mags had in mind. Now that she had forgotten, if she had the diary sooner, she could open it and read everything she didn't know. Every detail she had considered important, every person she had met, any promise she had done.
"Thank you, Mags," she whispered, her voice less shaky and steadily clearer.
Mags gave her a warm smile and caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears that still lingered there. The careful, yet loving action made a soft, barely visible smile form on Olive's lips.
"How much did you forget?" Librae asked, driving everyone's attention to her.
"To me, there's still a week until the Victor's Tour." Olive paused, glancing around the room doubtfully. "Which District are we going to?"
Ron exchanged glances with Finnick, who looked at him warningly, telling him without words to look out how he phrased it. "We're going to the Capitol, Olive. We'll be there in an hour at most."
She nodded to herself and gulped. "OK." She whispered, rearranging her hair to the side, running her fingers through it almost desperately. "OK . . . Ca—Can I be alone, please?"
Finnick rested a hand on her back, rubbing it comfortingly. "Are you sure?"
Olive nodded. "Please, I . . . I don't know. I just need to be alone."
He nodded and took his hand off her back. "Call us if you need anything. Don't try to shoulder it alone, OK? I'm just next door."
She smiled at him as she watched him get up from the bed. "Thank you, Finnick. I'll keep that in mind."
The victors left silently. Ron took a second to look at her with worried eyes, but left as he had been asked to. The abnormality of silence was astounding to Olive. Her last memory was about her siblings. They had a late-night talk before sleeping. That day had been especially loud, as Finnick had stayed for supper, per Theo's petition.
That heart-warming and extremely loud moment compared to what she was living felt as if her mind was trying to mix oil with water. It simply didn't work.
She opened the diary. The first page was blank, which, for whatever reason, she wasn't expecting. Perhaps it was because of Mags' words, but somewhere in her mind, she had expected words to appear on the very first page.
Olive got up and rummaged around the room, looking for a pen. Fortunately, there was one in a drawer. She sat back down on the bed, pen ready in hand, but not writing a word. How could she begin a diary for a possible future self without memories? How could anyone foresee what could make them trust some random diary?
'Hello.' She immediately crossed it out.
'Your name is Olive Navin Cresta.'
'I'm writing this for—'
'Sorry.' It all got crossed.
With a sigh, Olive ran her fingers through her hair. Why did anything that she wrote sound like the things she had heard right after she woke up without memories inside the hospital? Why did it sound so plain? She genuinely wanted to help herself, or her future self.
What would I want to hear? What would I trust? She thought, letting go of her hair to approach the pen to the paper.
'Forgetting is shit, isn't it?' She kept that phrase. 'I know you're confused. I know you won't trust a word written here. But you should. Because of our family and friends. If you don't know who those are, you definitely need to read this. If you know, why are you even doubting? We . . . well, I guess 'I', would do anything for them. For any of them.'
Olive took a deep breath in, feeling way more relaxed than a couple of minutes ago. 'Being scared is OK. I know that's probably what everyone's telling you, mostly Finnick, I assume. (He's like that most of the time. Don't be fooled by his cockiness. It's a façade) And they're partly right. What's not alright is for you to give in to your fear . . . I would know, as this advice comes from personal experience.' She paused, rereading every word a couple of times to make sure she was pleased with her writing. 'If you have to be scared, be scared, but don't give up. You can't give up. It doesn't matter how confusing or hurtful, you're not alone to shoulder it. In fact, I've just forgotten two entire weeks myself, and the first thing I'll do after finishing writing this will be to have a decent conversation with Finnick. (If the prep team doesn't take me away before I do, of course).'
The train came to a halt, and the room's door opened swiftly. Piscia was on the other side, a worried expression plastered on her face. She ran up to Olive and engulfed her in a hug.
"Oh, Olive, they told me," Piscia whispered.
Olive closed the diary, leaving the pen between the pages to make sure she didn't lose it. "I'm OK, Piscia. But I think I should know what I've been up to these past two weeks."
"Piscia!" Librae yelled from the other side of the door. "We told you not to barge in."
Finnick appeared next to her, glancing at his once mentor with an amused expression. "It's not like you guys are any better."
Librae tilted her head to look at him. "You zip it, Finnick. Or should I tell Olive the nickname Rhett gave you after your Games?"
Finnick held her stare but quickly gave up to look at Ron. "How? How do you put up with her?"
Ron chuckled and patted Finnick's shoulder. "I think you don't need me to answer that, Finny."
"I hate you," Finnick told Ron before moving to let Mags pass through. His eyes went back to him as Mags made her way to Olive. "I'll get my revenge."
Piscia shrieked as she looked at the time. "What are we all standing here for? We gotta go! Now, now, now!"
After giving the diary to Finnick, making sure it was protected while she was being guided around the Capitol. They pushed Olive around for the rest of the day. Go up. Then sit down. Hold back her thoughts from becoming actions while the prep team chatted. Go back down. Enter a room. Wait for Cario. See him enter with a covered-up outfit.
"Good to see you again," Cario greeted.
"Good to see you, too." Olive smiled at him. "Did they tell you already?"
"About your forgetting? No need. Piscia was shouting it around." He unzipped the bag, letting her see a beautiful, deep blue suit. "Don't worry, the others weren't stopping her, so I guess they must have a plan. And Piscia is helping . . . unknowingly, but she's helping."
Olive snickered as she imagined a nervous Piscia going around Capitol people, just to tell them how worried she was about the newest victor for forgetting, again. "Poor thing." Her eyes landed on the suit as he began taking his clothes off to get changed. "Not gonna lie. I expected a dress."
Cario paused for a second, glancing at her with an indescribable look in his eyes, before smiling. "Not today." He gave her the shirt. "Not for a long time, in fact. At least until the Capitol gets a new victor."
"Disappointing," Olive muttered with a chuckle as he put on the shirt. "I liked your dresses. They were beautiful and comfy. How in the world can you even make those?"
"What can I say? I'm just really good at my job." Cario said cockily.
"Oh, no. Don't. To be cocky, there's Finnick." Olive laughed.
"And he does a good job at it." Cario smiled, giving her the rest of the clothing for her to change into. "Although, lately, I think he might be getting distracted."
Olive furrowed her brother, confused. "Distracted? How so?"
Cario sat down beside her on a sofa as she put on the dark blue trousers. "I think that he's found something that keeps his mind away from his problems. A distraction of sorts. A really good one, in my opinion. The only issue, it's a horrible time for him to get this distracted. Everyone's eyes are on him more than any other victor. Even you."
"But what's the distraction? Is he OK?" Olive asked, genuinely concerned.
With a soft smile, he patted her shoulder and got up. "You don't need to worry about him. He'll be fine. It's not anything bad." He then turned to look at the door, where the prep team had run out before. "You're clever, so you'll figure it out soon."
Olive got up the moment she finished getting dressed and huffed loudly. "What's up with the riddles, Cario? Didn't know you wanted to imitate Ron now."
"Trust me, it's not a riddle. It's actually pretty obvious." He took a step forward, giving her earring back, so she could put it on. "Alright, let's go, 'cause chatting just made us lose time. And we can't be late."
The many turns she had to take exhausted Olive. She followed beside Cario patiently, but she couldn't help to feel nervous, and even slightly afraid. The chances of messing up were high, more so when she had been so uneasy all day. Or what she remembered of that day.
On the stage in front of the Training Centre, Caesar Flickerman prepared an interview with the new Victor, as he usually did every year. He started the interview with a few jokes per usual.
"Navin, I have to say, it's a pleasure to have you back here with us. You missed him, too, didn't you, folks?" Caesar made all spectators shout their agreement.
"Glad to be here, Caesar." Olive smiled. "Although you'll have to forgive me, as I can't remember our first interview."
"That's true!" He exclaimed, raising a hand to his head as he looked at the audience, who reprimanded him as a joke. His eyes were back on her in a second. "So, let's start from the beginning, then. How are you liking the Capitol?"
"Oh, I have to admit it's beautiful," Olive replied. "But between you and me, my heart will forever stay where the sea is."
Mainly because my family is there. So don't dare touch them in any way. She thought as she smiled kindly at the audience.
Caesar turned to the audience, laughing loudly as if what she had said was a joke. "I wouldn't expect any less," He said excitedly, then he changed to a more serious approach. "So, Navin, as I assume you know, you volunteered for your younger brother, Theodore. You told us about what he told you before you came here as a tribute. Now, what did he tell you when you got back, as a victor? Can you remember it?"
Olive shifted her eyes slightly from Caesar's to look beside him. She didn't want to answer that. At least not to him. But there was one person she would tell, even if they had already been there when it happened. The person she needed to think about at the moment was to not spit or tell Caesar off for asking such personal questions.
Finnick Odair, her friend and one of the few people she trusted to that degree.
"He asked, 'If you're Navin, who am I?'" Olive answered, altering the name to fit what the Capitol knew about her.