Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

XXV.

"You know, if you put enough pressure on coal, it turns to pearls," Peeta tells us, as he holds up a glistening pearl from the oyster that he opened.

I gape at the thing in shock. I've seen coal, and I've seen pearls, I've just never thought that something that ugly, crumbling to dust can make something that nice. Pearls are the only jewel that District 1 doesn't export. They're from district 4. Finnick has brought me pearls before.

Finnick scoffs dismissively. "No, it doesn't." He tells Peeta, whose face falls flat. Katniss laughs.

It doesn't matter anyways.

I don't know why, but the fact that coal doesn't turn into pearls disheartens me. Something shabby, falling apart should be given the chance to turn into something special. Sparkly. New. Something that's worth gift giving. To try and distract myself, I chip a small piece of wood from a nearby tree. I peel off the bark with my knife and twist it around in my hands. I don't know what I'm making, but the sound of my knife scraping against the raw wood is calming. It is sort of like Finnick and his rope.

Finnick sits next to me.

Beetee sits alone, and looking at him, and Katniss and Peeta, who huddle around each other, whispering, I feel pity. Wiress is gone. There is nobody in these games who would die for him. It's cruel, I know, but I wouldn't. Given a choice between Finnick and Beetee, I would save Finnick in a heartbeat. I think I'd save Katniss over him too, just because she's the face of the rebellion. I hope that it won't come to the point where I will have to choose. I hope that Plutarch's plan works, and that all of us can make it out alive. I hear the trees shuffle in the back and catch a glimpse of Cashmere's platinum blonde hair. She is another that I hope will live.

Finnick and I sit in silence. There is nothing to say anymore. Both of us are hoping that this far-fetched plan will work, that we won't have to see the other die.

The chime of another parachute awakens all of us from our dreamland. It bears a pot of spicy red sauce and more round rolls from district three. Finnick counts them, and sure enough, there are 24. This is Haymitch's last warning to all of us. Be near Katniss at midnight.

We divide the rolls 5 each, with seven rolls remaining. We won't need them any longer though. Which is probably good, seven doesn't divide equally anyways. The remaining food, after each of us has eaten our fill, is tossed into the water. It pains me to see good food go to waste, after years of not having my stomach filled, but we can't afford to let the careers get it either.

Finnick and I settle back into the edge of the trees. He brushes his thumb lightly over my knee as I scrape against the wood.

"They're planning to run," I tell him softly, gesturing at the young couple in front of us.

"I know," he tells me. "We would have too."

I know that it makes the most sense, from Katniss's point of view to run now. She thinks that the games will go on after we set this trap. That there will be only one winner. I know better. For her, the games will stop. She will be rescued, no matter what. It's the rest of us, the unnecessary extras, who are dependent on the rebel's mercy, that must be worried. If the rebels don't get us, the Capitol is sure to. And after my performance in the games so far? Snow is not going to be very happy with me.

"Kendria."

I almost don't hear it. I turn my face towards him and look at his beautiful eyes.

"Yeah, Fin?"

"In case I don't make it out," He starts, and I immediately look away. I don't want to talk about this. My brain would prefer if we only thought about the situations in which both of us make it out alive. Together.