Story Title: Treading Water

Characters/Relationships: Finnick/Annie

The story of Annie Cresta from the 70th Hunger Games and beyond.

Atala resumes her speech and informs us that each station is attended to by a trainer and that we will break for lunch in two hours’ time. I eye the various stations and begin to gravitate towards Pacific but a searing pain grabs my shoulder before I can move. I’m yanked backwards and once again my assailant is Cameo Saks. She has her right hand clamped around my wrist and pulls Laurentia with her left. She’s a lot stronger than she looks.

The belle from District 1 trots off in the direction of the weapon stations with Laurentia and me in tow and stops abruptly in front of a knife display.

“I was hoping we could train together. You know, like friends,” she explains sweetly, releasing us from her vice-like grip.  

“We’re not friends, paper shaker,” Laurentia deadpans, but she picks up a knife anyways. Her motions are concentrated but lighting quick. She draws her muscular arm back and hurls the blade forward in one swift motion and the combat knife soon finds itself in the stomach of a nearby dummy. The station attendee, a man with a shaved head and stretched ear lobes, looks pleased and Laurentia flashes the entire gym with a cocky smile. Her first smile of the day.  

Cameo and I follow suit. Cameo’s knife buries itself in the dummy’s shoulder while my own projectile doesn’t even reach the target. As a unit we move from weapon station to weapon station and my results remain largely the same. My failure seems to make Laurentia grin even more than her own success.

I can only imagine the hue that undoubtedly colors my cheeks, but it must be flaming red because my whole body feels like it’s on fire. I keep my head down at hand-to-hand and at the staff station, but I can feel the other tributes staring. Their eyes burn a hole in the back of my vulnerable head. I’m an easy target.

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Story Title: Treading Water

Characters/Relationships: Finnick/Annie

The story of Annie Cresta from the 70th Hunger Games and beyond.

In the morning only Mags joins us for breakfast seeing as Thora has been up since dawn and, having eaten already, busies herself in clerical work. Finnick on the other hand still hasn’t returned from wherever he went last night. Pacific, Mags, and I make inconsequential small talk over apple bread and juice for the majority of the meal, but suddenly Mags’ voice becomes dead serious. Despite the side effects of her stoke she speaks deliberately and enunciates every syllable for guaranteed understanding.

“Remember that you are to warm up to the other Careers today but also consider that you will need to break away.”

Pacific and I look at her in confusion and remain silent, so she speaks to this point further.

“Leaving the Pack will be important. Leave too soon and the whole arena will hunt you down… Leave too late and you’ll be an easy target for the remaining Careers. You need to leave while there are still other tributes in the field, but not too many…”

Her advice seems valid enough, so what confuses me most is her timing. We’re -well I’m - not even sure if I have a spot among the Careers and breaking my nonexistent alliance is currently low on my list of priorities.

“And if we time it wrong?” Pacific asks.

“If it is already too late… Kill them in their sleep,” our elderly mentor responds.

Kill them. This is an aspect of the Games that I have conveniently ignored up until this point. But now I have no choice but to address it. If I am to become the victor that I’ve decided I will be I must slaughter the competition. My pink hands will be painted red by the time I make it out of the arena.

I look down at my pale palms and can already see the harsh color burning beneath my skin. Crimson fills my blue veins but luckily my company isn’t privy to my transformation. I hide my arms beneath the skirt of the white table cloth and act as if nothing is wrong.

“You alright, dear? You look pale,” Mags says, and as the darksome quality in her eyes begins to dissipate so does the red of my flesh.

Relieved I reply, “Yes I’m fine… Just anxious to get down to training is all.”

“Then you best hurry down…”

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Story Title: Treading Water

Characters/Relationships: Finnick/Annie

The story of Annie Cresta from the 70th Hunger Games and beyond.

“District Four didn’t have any trouble getting sponsors last year and the tributes were dressed as a run of the mill mermaid and pirate during the opening ceremonies! And their training scores were pretty low too. So you two should have no trouble getting sponsors this year!” Thora Sugarcane explains, as chipper as ever.

We’ve made it to the fourth floor of the Training Center and although the fashion show has barely ended it’s time to start strategizing for the Games. 

“You two looked pretty out there,” Finnick says dreamily, giving Thora one of his signature smiles.

She nearly swoons but contains herself when she sees Mags squinting at her. She must be a little afraid of the old woman, I know I am. Although Mags is old and gentle there is an underlying darkness in her tourmaline green eyes. She was once a Victor herself. Still is, technically.

Night is falling and although the red suns sinks over the Capitol the streets below still buzz with excitement and we are only just sitting down to dinner. A few Capitol servants in white uniforms set the table with china, cutlery, and a main course. It’s some kind of rich savory dish with rice, shriveled plums, and a type of meat I don’t recognize. The thick, creamy white sauce that blankets the entire entrée isn’t all that palatable to my tastes but I stomach the heavy meal anyways. I could probably afford to put on a few pounds before entering the arena.

“I’m guessing this isn’t fish,” Pacific says, scrutinizing a piece of meat he’s speared with his fork.

“No, it’s lamb!” Thora exclaims which prompts Finnick to baa. We all laugh, except for the Avoxes. They instead bring a few more dishes of piping hot food to the table, this time a plate or two of fish cutlets that are garnished with oranges and turnips. Pacific seems sheepish about the change but still swaps his lamb for a fish dish.

After everyone’s eaten we begin to plan for the coming days.

“District Four is a Career district, and I honestly think both of you have a shot of getting into the Career Pack this year,” Finnick says.

Mags’ bobs her head up and down and adds, “Sorry bunch this year.”

“Right, the Careers from One and Two aren’t all that impressive this year, but they’ve still got a better shot at surviving the first week than the kids from lower districts. Tomorrow’s the first day of training and I advise you two to get to know them. Dazzle and Cameo are the boy and girl from District One while Hadrian and Laurentia hail from District Two,” Finnick comments.

I have my doubts about my merit as a Career. I’m almost certain that they would take Pacific in without a second thought, but me… I was pretty sure that Finnick and Mags were going to tell me that I’d be paddling my canoe alone.

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Story Title: Treading Water

Characters/Relationships: Finnick/Annie

The story of Annie Cresta from the 70th Hunger Games and beyond.

“She’s too thin,” a woman with a nasally voice complains.

She circles my naked form one more time for good measure and then secures a notebook and pen from one of her comrades.

“If you haven’t heard, Galla, thin is in,” the man with black hair drawls, snatching the paper back.

I stand in the center of the room like a statue. I haven’t said a word since they whisked me away to the Remake Center even though my experience has been nothing short of unpleasant. Despite my shower on the train they insisted I be washed again, and then they covered me in a thick butter that was only to be rinsed off during my fourth stay in the tub. All the hair that was not on my head has been waxed and tweezed and I’ve been poked and prodded so many times that my skin has begun to ache. Now I’m forced to stand naked in front of three strangers as they evaluate my “strengths” and “weaknesses”.

My prep team is made up of two identical women and the tallest, skinniest man I’ve ever met.

Apparently the women aren’t related but have gone through cosmetic alterations to look alike. I guess family resemblances are among the many things that the Capitol fabricates. The first woman is named Galla. She’s young and fairly slim, although not the Capitol definition of “thin” as the man, Klaus, had insinuated. Her hair is a demure violet color and she has dark stars at the center of her blue irises instead of round pupils. The other woman is just the same, except her name is Sonoma.

In comparison to his female cohorts Klaus has a more tame appearance. He’s extremely thin, but underweight bodies are not all that unusual in Panem, although they’re usually found in places such as District 12 and not the Capitol. The idea of starving yourself while having access to a plethora of foods makes me feel uneasy and I wonder if he’s sick. He is dressed in black from head to toe, which isn’t all that remarkable except for the fact his platform boots and thick rimmed glasses are bedazzled with amber and crystal studs.

He takes a moment to write down “thin” in the strengths column on his sheet of paper. Soon after pale, doe eyes, and cheekbones join the more favorable side of the chart, while uneven hips, freckles, and hair make an appearance on the weaknesses side. They all seem to agree that my hair is terrible and in dire need of attention.  

“Darling what did you do to your hair?” Klaus asks. “It’s absolutely wretched!”

I honestly don’t think my hair deserves the descriptor of wretched but it is the shortest I’ve had it in a very long time, and slightly uneven. My hair falls about an inch beyond my collarbone and the cut is choppy at best. Months prior to my arrival in the Capitol I had gone for a swim near the docks and had the misfortune to swim into a net. The fishermen had hauled me up on deck and exclaimed, “We’ve caught a mermaid!” to their fellows. Luckily they had sense enough to leave the actual hair cutting to my mother and simply severed the rope that was badly tangled in my tresses.  

“Don’t worry Annia, Vivien can fix it!” Sonoma cries as if fixing my hair is of upmost importance. Her Capitol accent is particularly pronounced.

“It’s just Annie.” I say in a small voice.

“She speaks! Add that to the list, Klaus,” she gasps.

“What? That she can talk?”

“No! That her voice is so… so sweet!”

Sweetness makes me think of Thora Sugarcane. And Finnick. I wonder if he’s already found some ritzy Capitol woman who will temporarily enjoy his company. He probably has and this makes me feel a bit glum for whatever reason. Of course Finnick Odair and my troubled locks should be the least of my worries seeing as I’ll be dead in a few days. But I haven’t yet found the courage to face that fact.

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