𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬; 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫.

chapter 3 - Things like me

You will, darling.

Embarrassed beyond measure by the way Finnick spoke to me in the main car, I spend hours in my own personal room on the train.  It's much larger than my room at home, bigger than the room I was in at the justice building, and yet it's rather imposing. The ceilings are high , and the black walls make me feel claustrophobic, and the lack of windows makes me feel enclosed, like i'm in a cell.  I replay the interaction in my head over and over , Finnick's arrogant smile on a loop. How he was so kind to Tiernan , easing into conversation with him , and not me. 

Most victors are self absorbed, of course. Finnick Odair seems to be on another plane of existence. He moves with a certain affectation, like he is still in the Capital. I dislike it. He doesn't have anyone left to win over. He has the hearts of every woman in the country in the palm of his hand , and he could have them fawning over him at the snap of his fingers. That's what irritates me about Finnick.  He can have anything he wants , whenever he wants. I think of Tiernan and his mother , hauntingly bony like her son, and the fact that Finnick is well fed, and will be for the rest of his life , in his electricity powered home in the Victors Village on the far side of the district.

I decide , that if Finnick shall be arrogant with me, I will be cold with him. I do not owe him anything. He owes , if not me , Tiernan a chance to win this thing. To come home and see that little girl again, and his mother , who's frail arms latched onto her child in hopes of safety, in hope that someone would take his place. The only thing volunteering  for him was the wind.

The small clock on the wall reads 7:30 pm when Ivara comes to my room , peaking her head round my door and inviting me to dinner with the rest of our company. I debate not going , my absence could insult the hubris , trident bearing victor, but my stomach growls in protest. I slip off of the silky bed , stretch my arms and walk to Ivara , who holds her arm out , directing me down the hall.

"That was admirable, what you did. At the train station." she looks to her left and right , as if to see if anyone has heard her , as if she's said something treacherous . "I just wanted to tell you that." She walks ahead of me now, leading me to the dining area. 

The dining table is set up in an extravagant display , crystal  candelabras stand in the middle of a wide spread of sea food and vegetables , and glasses of colourful drinks are by each place mat. The room has transformed , a chandelier now hangs over the table , making the dark walls glow a sky blue. I wonder how the food managed to be prepared so quickly, but I suppose the cooks on this train are cooking at every moment , with the amount of it that is here.

I sit down at a place setting with glass of red liquid next to it , and begin to grab a bread roll from a small basket , when Ivara lets out  a small squeak .

"You must wait until everyone is sat down Orla." she tuts , and mutters something about table manners to herself quietly.

 My stomach growls again , and so I take a bread roll and hide it in my lap under the table , and tear little pieces off.  It tastes vaguely of salt , and there's little green specs inside of it. Seaweed bread. A staple food from District Four. I smile to myself , thinking of the beach this morning, and the gem my father returned to me. It seems so long ago , despite it only being hours ago. I thumb the outline of the gem in my dress pocket , seeking home.

I'm half way through tearing my bread roll when Tiernan walks in , Finnick behind him. They're laughing at something at one of them has said , and now I regret staying in my room. I've wasted precious time , that I shouldn't use so sparingly, wallowing. All while the boys have gotten to know each other. I rip off a piece of the roll and stuff it into my mouth , chewing harshly.

Finnick sits down opposite me , Ivara next to him and Tiernan next to me. We all help ourselves to food after greeting each other, and the only sound is the clang of forks against plates and the occasional clatter of the tracks below us. Tiernan shuffles a bit , facing me in his chair.