The 70th Hunger Games

Chapter Three

I wake up with a jump. I had been dreaming of the night thirteen years ago that I had lost my parents on. He had died on a boat after it sank. Mr Rif, his fellow Sailor, made it back alive, but not my father. Drowned. Mr Rif, being my mother's best friend, broke the news to her, but she had been ill, and the news almost killed her. Almost. The pills did the last bit for her. I had walked into her room that morning to find her pale, cold and lifeless. My grandmother took me away and I never saw either of them again.

I don't cry out. Just lie there quietly, shaking. Finnick doesn't seem much happier in sleep either. His face is set in a grim expression, his jaw clenched, his brow knitted into a frown. His arms are wrapped around me in their usual protective way and they're tightening, as if he's trying to keep me out of his dreams, or maybe he's trying to break out.

I shake myself out of my frozen state and roll over, or try to. I wake him up, whispering his name repeatedly. His eyes flicker open and he relaxes. "Morning," he whispers.

I smile, pretending we're at home in his bed, not in my bed on a train heading to the Capital. He ignores it too. Kissing my nose he decides to save his talk for later. That time will soon stove, so I keep quiet and bite my tongue, not trusting myself to speak.

As I predicted the bell for only an hour away sounds. I dress it the clothes that Finnick says are Capital standard, and stare at myself in the mirror. He comes to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around me. I manage a small smile. "You'll be fine," he assures me.

I pull myself away. Stepping outside my cabin I check that no-one is around. Only Chris, but he knows about us, so it's fine. "Safe," I hiss.

Finnick emerges from the room and pads down the corridor to his cabin to change. Chris tilts his head in my direction, but he's grinning. I laugh. "Come on."

He follows me the living space carriage, where once again the most delicious spread has been laid out for our breakfast. Grandma is deep in conversation with Stan when we walk in. When she sees us she walks over to us. "When you're in the arena you would be able to eat much. So go and eat as much as possible without throwing up. Okay?" she says. I turn to the food. Eating as much as possible won't be a problem, it's the keeping it down that will prove difficult. I take a plate, piling it high with eggs, bacon, toast, fried fish, and everything else set out. I look at Chris's plate. He looks at mine and raises an eyebrow. I smile guiltily. Then grinning he piles his higher than mine. Clearly he was trying to be polite.

At the table we dig in. The room is silent besides the low muttering between Stan and Grandma. They look at me, taking in every detail. I hear Grandma whisper "Such beautiful eyes," and Stan replies "And such fabulous hair." Then they see me glance at them out of the side of my eye and they turn their attention to Chris. Now they talk in lower voices.

The door swings open and Finnick stumbles in, wearing a sea blue shirt and black pants. Sitting down in a chair he rests him head in his hands. I say nothing, but Grandma is not so restrained. "It's sleeping beauty. How kind of you to grace us with your presence."

I see Stan purse his lips while Chris suppressing a smile. Finnick looks up at Grandma and I see for the first time bags under his eyes. "Didn't sleep well." Liar. He slept pretty well. And he didn't have scruffy hair or bags under his eyes when he left my room. Must have been his own little touch to make it seem as though we spent the night apart. Protecting me again.

"I bet you didn't," Grandma smirks, and I see Finnick shoot her a look. My cheeks burn red so I look at my food and hope we aren't being watched.

"So what's the plan?" Chris asks, trying to change the subject.

"Tonight as you know is the Chariots parade. When you reach the Capital you'll both be whizzed off the remake centre. Don't resist anything. Then your stylist will work with you and in the evening the parade will begin. It'll be a busy busy day, so you'll need as much energy as possible. Not that that seems to be a problem," he says, shooting a look at our plates.