Finnick's Story: Mentor • The Hunger Games | IN PROGRESS

Chapter Six: Adapting to the Atypical

Small change: I've altered the spelling of Brynne's name to Brynn, without the 'e', as it is the more traditional spelling. I've changed it in previous chapters as well as this one. That's all! :)

- Kallen is pronounced 'KAH-LIN', with the short 'a' sound as in 'apple' - not pronounced as 'Colin'.

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I'm back in my own car with Mags and Leahna, after talking with Sebastian and Brynn for a little while. Brynn was noticeably exhausted, physically and emotionally, so I advised her to take a nap for a few hours. She agreed and left for her assigned bedroom car, and I stayed with Sebastian to talk one-on-one for a bit. We already knew some things about each other, being classmates for several years, and at first it was just a casual conversation about school and life in Four. We talked about our teachers, our other classmates, and how our history classes never really prepared us for how we would feel to hear our names called at the Reaping.

From as young as our first year in school, we're taught about the Games. At age five, we were being shown videos of Caesar Flickerman, who was 'kind' enough to explain the concept of the Games in child-friendly language. Every year, the explanations grew more complex--more aspects of the Games' reality were integrated. First year students are taught that the Games happen every year, and one boy and girl are chosen from our district to fight and work together. Second years are taught that these boys and girls fight against other boys and girls, chosen from other districts, and only one boy and girl can win out of all of them. That boy and girl are the strongest in the arena. Third year students and on are taught the full extent of the grim reality--every aspect of how the Games function, as well as their history and origins.

President Snow's name has been ingrained in my head since my first year, regardless. No matter what we know or don't know about the Games, everyone, young or old, knows President Snow. But in our third year, when all of us are around seven or eight, we learn how the Games began, and how they evolved into what they are today. As we move through each year, we learn more and more. We learn about the more pivotal years of the Games in history, such as the Quarter Quells, or select years that strange, impressive, or peculiar events occurred. Haymitch Abernathy's victory year, the second Quarter Quell, is one I remember more vividly from school.

In addition to the history, we also learn about how certain tributes won, and how certain tributes didn't. We learn about the Gamemakers and how they manipulate the arena to create a more interesting show. We're taught about mutts, poisonous plants like Nightlock, the Cornucopia, the mid-Games Feast, and other circumstances that are common to see. We're shown clips of previous Games to teach us about survival tactics--how one tribute survived while another one didn't. What did the one do wrong? What did the other do right? We're desensitized to the sight of death, as viewing the Games is mandatory each year, and so even as children, we become immune to the sight of blood, screaming, and terror from children not much older, or younger, than us.

But as I said before, knowing seemingly everything about the Games still doesn't prepare you for how you'll feel when your name is called at the Reaping. The stomach-turning, heart-dropping feeling when the initial shock fades and reality sinks in. The way I felt last year, thinking there's no way it could be me, as if I was somehow immune. Nothing could have truly prepared me for hearing Leahna shout: 'Finnick Odair!' into the microphone, and shortly realizing what that entailed. Back then, I had the idea that I would likely volunteer at 18. To be reaped at my current (then) age of 14 was completely jarring.

Additionally, thinking back, I will never understand my previous desire of wanting to become a tribute when I was 'old enough'. Children who train will likely never question that desire, unless they win, like me, and their entire view on life changes when they come back home. That raw appreciation of life, and how fragile it is, was never so apparent to me until I realized how quickly I could have lost it. And how all 23 others did.