Finnick and Annie

I Lose my Calm

I met up with Mags as the games where about to start. While we waited for the tributes to rise, Caesar Flickerman went over different sections of the arena during a pre-game overview.

It was mountainous, and there was a huge dam on a side that controlled the water levels of the long river that cut through it. There were plenty of hiding spots, and the forest seemed like it would be full of resources.

I sat and waited anxiously; other mentors began trickling in. We would watch the start of the games together. Though up to half of us would likely be jobless again within the first hour.

Mags sat next to me and held my hand. I sank deeper into the sofa and stared at the screen. We didn't speak. I could sense strange looks from some of the other mentors, but I didn't care. Some of them were friends of mine; we'd met over the years during Capitol visits and kept in touch. Most even knew the truth about said visits—a few of them had similar "arrangements" with Snow. Even so, no other victor—at least none at the time— was as popular among Capitol citizens as I was. They all pitied me.

"What's wrong with your face?" Johanna Mason asked as she dropped on the couch next to me.

I jabbed her with my elbow. "Shut up, Jo. I'm not in the mood."

"No kidding."

Mags squeezed my hand and left to catch up with some of the older veteran mentors in the room.

"So... it's her, isn't it?"

I avoided her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The girl from back home?"

I shot her a threatening look. "What, are you crazy?" I whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was hearing our conversation. "Not here."

"Sorry," she winced. "But, you should probably try to be more subtle then. You look like someone kicked your puppy."

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. She was right, of course, so I took one final long breath, then straightened up in my chair.

"How are you doing?" I asked, reminding myself to act less distressed than I really was.

"That's more like it," she smiled. "Things are wonderful—as always. What more could one ask for, when living in such a glorious nation as Panem?" Johanna had won the Hunger Games two years before mine, but she was only one year older. After Mags, we were probably the closest.

"They do know sarcasm in the Capitol, you know?"

She rolled her eyes. "Barely.

"Isn't it against the rules?" she asked after a much-too-short silence.

"It's also against the rules to sneak a knife in your tribute's jacket," I shrugged. "I heard you talking about it."

"Oh, he's going to die anyway," she said with a wave of her hand. "Kid can't even use a knife."

I looked down at my hands and fumbled with my fingers. Though I really loved Johanna, I wasn't in the mood to talk to her.

"She's going to be alright," she whispered, which was a really stupid thing to say.

"Yeah, she's going to be fantastic."

"Sorry, Odair. I'm not really sure what to say. But, hey, maybe she'll win. I hear she's got a pile of sponsors already, all courtesy of your hotness."

"It took a little more than just good looks to make that happen," I assured her. I'd slept with three women in the past few days and promised dates to many more.