Fall Away

"Oh, cut the crap and get on with it," Rafa grumbled, drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair as he waited for Caesar Flickerman to finish hyping up the Games and start delivering the scores.
I shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, torn between not wanting to see my score at all and wanting to just get it over with and know now. I hadn't done all that well; living in District 1 and having the money to pay for all our food, I hadn't really needed to do much spearfishing or knife practice, and even all the practice I'd had in the training arena over the past two weeks hadn't done much to change the fact that I still cracked under pressure.
"I'm sure you did great," Shalim said softly, seeming to notice my nerves. He gave my shoulder an awkward pat, not knowing how else to comfort me, before nodding stiffly at me. I guessed those actions were supposed to be reassuring, so I gave him a smile in return.
"Shh, they're on!" Rafa hissed, reaching for the remote to turn the volume up another half dozen notches.
Adri's face was the first to flash across the screen, and though I should have known enough to expect it, it still made me flinch. Finnick, who was sat across the room, seemed too absorbed in the TV to notice, and for that much I was glad. Adri's stats flashed across the screen, followed by a large flashing number 11. Same as last time, I realized. Something about the thought of this year's Games following the pattern of the last ones left a sour taste in my mouth, so I tried not to dwell on it. Cashmere was next, and she was awarded an impressive 9. The way she eyed up the camera as her photo flashed across the screen made me feel like she was looking directly at me, like she had taken that photo thinking about all the things she wanted to say to me, and it made a lump rise in my throat. I was careful not to show any signs of worry, though, not wanting my prep team to know how pathetic I really was.
District 2 and 3 both went over my head. I knew who I had to worry about, and as much as Brutus and Enobaria scared me, they weren't the top threats on my list at this point.
I cast a glance over at Finnick, trying to gauge his expression as he waited for his scores to appear. He looked calm and collected, almost disinterested. I tried to figure out if it was just an act or if he was really so relaxed about the whole thing, but it was impossible to decipher. Of course, he'd had much more time to practice putting up a false composure in front of the Capitol. I was starting to wish I'd taken more care to remember the things he'd taught me during my Games over the past two years.
His eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch as his number flashed across the screen, and I turned to glance at the TV just in time to see a large 11 fade away. The same as Adri. That wouldn't help ease the competition between them, I realized with a frown.
"Not too bad," he murmured with a cocky grin as he propped his feet up on the coffee table. I wasn't sure if he was talking to himself, his prep team, or me, so I just twisted my fingers and tried to mirror his composed look as I waited for my own stats to finish loading on the screen.
It seemed to take forever for the numbers to fade, making way for my own score. I felt my stomach flutter with hope as I tried to convince myself that maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe my mistakes were all in my head. Those hopes were quickly dashed, however, when the number flashed across the screen.
"A...a 4?" I breathed, feeling sick to my stomach. As much as I'd told myself to remain composed, this seemed beyond my ability to handle. I double-checked to make sure I wasn't doing something stupid like seeing my District number, but no matter how many times I blinked, the number didn't go away.
Rafa frowned at me, tutting disapprovingly. "Winnie, may I speak to you in private?" he asked, voice tight.
I nodded shakily and stood, following him out of the room like a scolded dog with its tail between its legs. "I don't know what happened, I'm so sorry," I began as soon as we were safely out of earshot, tucked away in the shadows of the corridor.
"I do," Rafa said, straightening up to full height so he towered above my small frame. "I've been hearing things -- rumours about you -- from the other trainers. That you and Adri have been having a...a lover's quarrel, for lack of a better word, and that the other tributes have noticed you and Finnick getting closer as well. Too close."
I swallowed thickly, fidgeting with my fingers behind my back. "What do you want me to do? I can't help what other people notice."
"It's not just that they're noticing, it's that it's happening in the first place," Rafa said, a vicious edge to his voice, before he stopped himself and took a deep breath as if to calm himself. "Look, I understand that coming in to the Games can be difficult on any relationship. The Games have seen brothers and sisters reaped together, only for one sibling to kill the other before the end of the first day. But do not think that, just because your marriage is in jeopardy, you get a free pass. These tributes are still going to be looking for your weak points and they won't hesitate to use them against you. Not only that, but now you're so distracted that you can't even protect yourself. Can't even get a decent score when you're firing knives at stationary dummies. How do you think you're going survive the first five minutes at this rate?"
I blinked a few times, letting his words sink in. I knew this was exactly the wake-up call I needed -- after all, if Adri was right and our marriage was as good as done, why waste so much time on it? "Okay. Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. I'll do better, I promise."
Rafa sighed, seeming to realize that I knew he was right and wasn't going to argue or defend myself. "Don't promise me. I'm not the one who dies in that arena if you screw up," he mumbled, but he seemed satisfied with my answer as he turned and led me back to the TV room.
"Katniss and Peeta -- you remember, our allies? -- they both got 12s," Finnick supplied as I sat back down. Nobody seemed too interested in the TV anymore now that Caesar Flickerman was back on the screen, discussing the surprising points of the score revelations. My scores were the first to pop up, and I flinched and reached for the remote to turn it off.
"That's nice," I noted, trying not to let the bitterness seep into my voice. It was hard to act happy that we were at least allied with people with good scores, all things considered.
Finnick saw right through my false calm. "It's okay, Winnie. People have won before by intentionally lowering their scores so they don't seem like a threat."
I cleared my throat and nodded, trying to act reassured, even though I knew there was a key difference. People intentionally lowering their scores at least had something to hide; I had given my all today, and still failed miserably.
"We'd best start getting you ready for your appearances tonight. Winnie, come on down with me. We've got a lot of work to do," Shalim murmured, and I bit back a glare at his tone.
"It's nice to know that you appreciate my natural beauty," I grumbled as he and the other assistants all stood and headed towards the elevator to take me to the dressing rooms.
"Once you get curves and grow out of a child's size, we'll talk," Shalim said matter-of-factly.
I was hyper-aware of the other people still in earshot (most embarrassingly, Finnick) and reflexively shielded my arms around my chest protectively, but it was too late. The last thing I heard before the doors to the elevator closed behind me was Finnick's laughter, loud and booming.