The Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games

Chapter 3- ADDIE

I curl back up in bed under about three blankets. As much as I try to sleep, even as exhausted as I am, I can't get my brain to stop overworking itself. I wonder how Anthony and Agatha and the rest of my friends are doing, back at home. Turning the rope bracelet on my wrist, I think about the good times with them.

There was one time when I had had a major project where I had to visually show the different kinds of sea creatures that we catch in our district. And no, we weren't allowed to draw them or bring in actual fish. I was struggling to come up with ideas as to how I could pull this off, so after school, while working for Anthony, I asked him about it. After some debating (we decided not to bake cakes of them) we came up with the idea to use rope and knot the nets into figures of the fish. It took days, but we pulled it off. We had Spiny Lobsters, with their, well, spines, huge Chinook Salmon with hooked mouths, a school of ugly tuna, Dungeness Crabs, Snow Crabs, which have long legs and a circular shell, and a few others.

Needless to say, I was awarded full points on the project, and my knowledge of knots increased substantially.

It was moments like this that I held onto when I was at my lowest, and so I head back to those memories, hoping that they will help calm me enough to fall asleep. They help, but I'm still overwhelmed by the impending Games.

I turn over and shove one of my many pillows over my head. After a few minutes, I decide that there's no way I can sleep, so I might as well do something productive. I sit up and swing my legs out of bed, switching on the lights as I do so. I pad down the hallway and peek through the cracked door to the dining car.

Finnick notices me and stands up as the conversation comes to a halt. He raises an eyebrow at me and I raise mine back at him. After a stare-down, Finnick finally sighs and motions for me to come sit down.

"We're trying to come up with a strategy," he says. Shifting to a lower tone, he continues. "I haven't told the mentors about our little... agreement."

Settling into my chair, I quietly ask, "Okay. Did you talk to James?"

"Not yet. When I went to tell him, he was asleep."

I nod at him as Brant starts to launch into his plan. Mags and Robin sit silently, and Jon cuts in every now and then to add things.

"First step is gonna be to get you sponsors. That's up to Vim here to help you with that, but our job's the Games. The first thing we gotta do is figure out how you two are gonna fight."

"Finnick here says you got some muscle on ya, Love," Jon breaks in, his strange accent surprising me. "Although I don't see where that assumption comes from."

I raise my eyebrows in annoyance.

"Ignore him," Brant says. "Finnick has said that you have some strength from fishing, but what we need to know is: what are your other skills?"

"Umm..." I start off. "Well, James knows I suck at soccer." This gets a laugh from no one. "I know a lot about knots and netting and um... I really don't know else. I mean, I can swim too, I guess."

Jon huffs and leans back, crossing his arms. His indifference is really starting to bother me. Just because he was trained in sword fighting, dagger-throwing, and who knows what else, doesn't mean I was.

"I've seen her use a knife."

What the heck is Finnick talking about?

Mags nods in agreement as he continues trying to explain. "You know, that one time in the marketplace? Markus?"

A lightbulb goes off in my head and I snort as I remember what he's referencing.

A few years ago, when I was barely fourteen years old, I was in the back of Marina's stand chopping heads off of fish, (appealing, I know) and a man I had never seen before had come up to the stand. He was in his thirties or forties, had a scruffy beard and a bit of a stomach, and introduced himself as Jax. For no reason that I could pinpoint, he gave me a slight suspicion that he was up to no good.