Puzzle Pieces • Finnick Odair

C H A P T E R 2

As the district 4 escort, Elaine Rosewell, walked onto the platform and began her speech, Jessica couldn't help but bite her lip anxiously. No matter how many times she hears 'the speech' it never gets less nerve racking.

"Welcome! Welcome, welcome. Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour. So, before we begin, we have a very special film brought all the way from The Capitol."

Music begins to play. She can recall the video word by word, knowing what it's going to say before it even starts.

She glances back at her brother seeing him signing to her, War. Terrible war. She manages to smile back at him as she hears the exact same phrase said by Snow coming from the video. They had learned to sign when their father would have bad days after his wife's death and would be unable to bring himself to talk. Now, it came in handy when the siblings communicated long distances away.

She looked back towards the screen in time for it to end.

"I've always loved that!" Elaine speaks as the music comes to an end.

"And now, the time has come for us to select one brave, courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District 4 in the 70th Annual Hunger Games. As usual, ladies first."

Her freshly manicured hand reaches into the large, circular bowl, her fingertips dancing over the paper inside, hovering for a split second before seizing and pulling out one single piece of folded paper.

Her heart sank as she heard the name 'Jessica Miller' exit the woman's mouth.

This can't be happening. No.

It seemed her body comprehended what was happening before her mind did as she found herself standing before her district, eyes locking with the tear filled ones of her brothers' as the cogs turned in her brain trying so desperately to understand what was happening. It was as if her brain was a machine malfunctioning. Her gut feeling that morning had been right and she felt as though she might throw up or faint there and then but she wouldn't. She had to stay strong, if not for herself then for her brothers watching her.

"How old are you Jessica Miller?"

She moved the microphone over to her face, "eighteen."

"Well, well. Your last reaping, isn't that lucky. And now for the boys."

She couldn't hear properly, everything sounded fuzzy, she was unable to focus. It was as if she was underwater, though, her head emerged from the depth of fear below to hear the name of the male tribute she would be in the arena with: Dale Connors. He was a small, skinny boy, he barely looked like he was of reaping age.

He walked up to the platform, lips trembling, face soaked with tears as he replied to Elaine's question, "how old are you Dale Connors?" He replied in a shaky voice informing her of his age. Twelve, he had turned 12 just days before the reaping. Her heart ached for the poor boy who, if there hadn't been a microphone, wouldn't have even been heard by the crowd as his timid whisper barely left his lips.

"Here we are, our tributes from District 4. Now, shake hands, you two."

They shook hands, his trembling hand meeting her strong one as she sent him a soft, hopefully comforting, smile.

"Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour."

AN: and the Reaping has happened, I love little Dale, poor guy is a nervous wreck and tbh he always is🤷‍♀️