You Asked For This - Finnick Odair

The Girl From District 7

"The eyes say it all."
— Unknown

...

The reaping for the 71st Annual Hunger Games came and went without trouble.

The female tribute was sixteen years old and had blonde hair and blue eyes. But she didn't look like Lyra. Her name was Trianna Basin and she was a volunteer. She had potential to win, but wasn't particularly extraordinary.

The male tribute was eighteen years old and had brown hair and grey eyes. His name was Marsh Rivers and he was also a volunteer. Just like Trianna, he had potential to win but wasn't particularly extraordinary.

"Don't light any fires," Cora instructed, giving basic advice. She wouldn't put her heart into it. "If you absolutely have to light one, make it quick and don't use anything you think might produce lots of smoke."

"You'll probably end up in the career pack, so you might not need to worry about this," Finnick added. "Most other tributes will be too scared to come near you."

"But never let your guard down. When the time comes, Districts 1 and 2 won't hesitate to kill you where you stand."

The twenty-year-old and nineteen-year-old Victors had gotten better at coaching. Giving tips and tricks, good advice.

The volunteer tributes paid close attention, Marsh more so than Trianna, who seemed to think she could flirt her way out of trouble.

...

At the parade, Cora scanned the other tributes, trying to get a feel for how she might need to train her own. Her eyes stopped on the girl from District 7.

She looked nothing special. Big brown eyes and long brown hair. She was pale. A small, skinny little thing. Even her posture made her look weak and easy to kill.

Her outfit was positively tragic. She was dressed as a tree. Not a beautiful, tree-inspired gown. A tree. A stiff brown skirt with bark texture.

Her top looked like her stylist had glued green cotton balls to the girl's torso. Her long brown hair was gelled into many stiff ponytails, a few green cotton balls glued to the ends.

Cora wanted to cry at how terrible it all was. She also wanted to laugh a little. And so, out of pure curiosity and a little pity, she made her way over to the girl.

"District 7?" The strawberry-blonde asked with a little smirk playing on her lips.

The girl looked at the young woman, her brown eyes widening in what looked like fear. She didn't say anything, just nodded, now trying to avoid eye contact.

"I think this is the worst I've seen them dress anyone from your district. I don't remember anything in the old treaty about public humiliation before being sent off to the arena."

The girl continued to avoid eye contact, as she responded. She was so quiet that, if Cora hadn't been specifically trying to listen to her, she wouldn't have heard a word of it. "Well, I guess that's just my odds. Humiliation and death."

The green-eyed young woman felt bad for the brown-eyed girl. She had already given up.
"What's your name?"

"Johanna Mason," was the girl's soft reply.

"How old are you, Johanna?" The girl could've been anywhere from thirteen to eighteen. She looked only a little younger than Cora. But she acted like a scared little kid.

"Seventeen."

"You're older than most of the others. That gives you better odds. Don't give up so soon." Cora wasn't sure why she felt the need to lift this girl's spirit. Johanna wasn't her tribute. But here she was, trying to help all the same.

"One of the others could be like you. You won at fourteen." The girl argued, still in a soft and scared voice.

Cora blinked. Sometimes she forgot that the districts knew who she was. I wasn't planning on it, she wanted to say. But she had an image to keep up.

"I didn't give up on myself. That's why I won." She looked over and saw Finnick giving her a questioning look. "I need to go. May the odds be ever in your favor, Johanna. You never know how the games are gonna go."

Before Cora left, Johanna looked the woman in the eyes, fear still on her face. "I know exactly how these games are gonna end." The brunette remained shy and quiet, like she was accepting her death, but Cora saw a glint in her eyes. Just for a moment. But it was there. There was more to Johanna Mason than she was letting on.

The strawberry-blonde nodded and walked off to Finnick. She stood next to him as she continued to survey her surroundings.

"What was that about?" He whispered.

"Just scouting out the other tributes. Wanted to train ours a little better."

"And what's so important about her?"

Cora looked the young man in the eyes, her own shining with anticipation. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

The bronze man raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

The green-eyed girl smiled, intentionally not answering the question.

Finnick didn't pretend to know what was going on in her mind. But he dropped the matter. He knew she was lying, he just didn't know why. He just trusted that she had a good reason.

...

The parade went on without incident. Johanna Mason kept her head down and almost curled into herself while still standing on the chariot. She didn't even bother trying to not look pathetic.

She was a good actress. Good enough to fool everyone except Cora. But the strawberry-blonde would keep her lips sealed.

This wasn't her secret to tell.