ODDS

desirable

𝓘 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓽𝓸 the side of the stage in a room full of screens. By the time I had made it there, Sander was already on stage, giving his own interview. So far, he was doing great. I was studying the screens and watching Sander interact with Caesar and the crowd when Finnick came up beside me.

"So? How was that?" I asked, looking to him with a smirk upon my lips. He didn't look at me, only kept his eyes on the screen in front of us, staying silent. I looked behind us, expecting to find Mags and Zane following Finnick, but only found empty space. I spoke up again. "Where are Mags and Zane?"

"Alana, we need to get somewhere private." Finnick turned abruptly to me. Although not much taller than me, in that moment he seemed a thousand feet tall, leaving me down among the dust of the earth. His eyes seemed to hold a sort of fear, one that I could not understand. He seemed to pity me, as if he knew something that I did not.

"What's wrong?" I asked, still holding a light tone to my voice. "Did I do something wrong?"

Finnick looked around before his eyes met mine directly. "Not wrong, just-"

Applause sounded and we both turned to the screens. Sander had finished his interview and was walking towards the backstage area. I looked back to Finnick, but he was already looking at me again. His face slid into a mask, his true emotions and feeling hidden behind it. This confused me to no end.

"We'll talk about this tonight."

Before I could say anything, Sander appeared from the side door. A smile plastered on his face as he saw me there, and I smiled back, following Finnick's lead as I slid on a mask. Maybe I would become used to it. It only made sense. Finnick seemed to be throwing it on and off, as were Mags and Zane. Perhaps it came with the job.

"That was great, Sander. You did well." Finnick gave the older boy a complement. Sander smiled, nodding to him.

"Thanks."

I gave Finnick a small frown. He hadn't told me that I had done well. What had I done? What was wrong?

"Let's go to our room. You both have a long day tomorrow." With this, Finnick turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

***

I sat on the ledge of the roof, letting the breeze lull me into a daze. It was almost peaceful up there. If the crowds below would not have been having a party, celebrating the coming deaths of two dozen children, it would have been the perfect night.

Someone came beside me, someone tall and lean. I looked over to find Finnick, a worried look, the one from earlier, still forming in his eyes. That look took over his features, wrinkling his forehead and setting me on edge. If he was still worried over whatever it was that had him in a bind, then it couldn't have meant any good news for me. Still, the curiosity formed inside of me, and I had an urge to assure any bad news away.

I didn't want to be the first to speak. As curious as I was, I didn't want to break the silence, no matter how tense it seemed to be. The air became urgent when he sat beside me, making me bite the inside of my cheek. This couldn't be any good.

"You did very well tonight. I don't think I told you." He finally spoke. My eyes clouded with confusion as I peered into his. He gave me a smile, albeit a sad one. Regret and a bit of guilt made its way into the mix.

"Thanks?" It comes out as a question. I wasn't sure what else to say, or how to say it for that matter. I only wanted answers. Finnick's body heaved out a sigh, making my brows furrow.

"You did a little too well tonight." he seemed to only be able to whisper, as if his voice were stuck within the walls of his throat.

"What do you mean? Did I get any sponsors?"

"That's not the problem anymore, Alana." My heart skipped in the way he spoke my name, as if my death certificate had already been signed. Sure, I had to fight against twenty three other kids, but I had just as good of a chance as anybody. My training score alone proved that. What was he so afraid of?

"Well then, what is?" I could see that we were nearing the topic that Finnick seemed so desperate to avoid. Yet, there was no escape from this.

"You have a really good chance of making it out." he began.

I interrupted, "And that's a bad thing?"

Finnick rubbed his tired face, pushing the sleep from them. "Not in itself."

He was stalling.

"Finnick."

At my calling his name, he swung his head lazily to the side, catching my eyes. This was it. I had worn him down. He gave a sigh, closing his eyes and then opening them to the party below.

"They're- we're- called Desirables." At my confused stare, he continued. "Capitol officials buy us, use us however they please. We have no say, we have to do what they tell us or else someone gets hurt."

"Who? Who gets hurt?" I didn't think I wanted to know.

"Your family. Friends. Whoever is close to you. That's how I lost my parents." Shock overcame me. How could any of this be real? Surely he was mistaken.

But his mom. His dad. There was no way he could make any of this up. Why would he?

"Who-"

"President Snow told me to do it. I refused. A week later, my dad had been trampled by a horse. A month after that, my mom died of some disease. That's what he said, anyway." I looked at Finnick, a new light shone over him. He was no boy. He was a young man aged with battle.

"I'm sorry, Finnick."

"I didn't tell you this so that you would feel sorry for me." There was no anger in his voice, only remorse, as if what his words were saying were about to get one hundred times worse.

"Alana-" His voice faltered, letting a small cry out. I grabbed his hand, trying to comfort him the only way I knew how, the only way I could. "They're taking notice of you. Your interview? It came off as- I don't know. Desirable?"

"Finnick, what are you saying?"

He looked me in the eyes, the deepest form of sorrow painting his irises. My mouth dried, closing my throat in. I bit my cheeks harder. I knew what he was saying. Of course I did. How could I not? He had done everything but say it aloud. He admitted it without saying a word. His eyes gave it all away, and now the truth was out. If I made it out of the arena, I would still be dead. The Alana of yesterday would be dead. I was dead.

"I think you know."