So. Here we go. It's kind of a crazy Alternate Universe. In it, several of the characters are messed up. Here, I'll tell you who I have switched (so far)
Peeta - Katniss
Madge - Gale
That's all for now.
I don't own the Hunger Games. Although I do own a rather beautiful mockingjay pin.
When I roll over, the other side of the bed is cold. I look across the room to find my little sister, Prim, curled up with my mother in the other bed. Of course. She is scared. It is her first time, and she had needed the comfort of my mother's arms to keep the nightmares at bay.
Comfort I could not give her.
I lie in bed for a while, listening to the sounds of their breath. Then I realize that Prim's breathing is ragged, uneven. She is awake, too nervous to sleep, even tucked up against our mother. I walk across the room and stroke her hair.
"Hey," I whisper. "It's okay. It's your first time. Your name's only in there once."
"Sing to me, Peeta," she says. "Sing me something happy."
I sing to my little sister, a sweet little song about a meadow. It was the safest place I could take her, as far away from District 12 as possible. Hunger and cold would never be a problem there. Neither would the possibility of being chosen randomly for televised slaughter.
I kiss her little head as she falls asleep. "I have to go," I said. "I'll be back soon."
I slip on my father's old boots and a worn shirt and pants, grab my bag, and go. I run through the little worn-down alleys of the Seam until I reach the fence, ducking under with a clang, I meet my friend Madge on the other side.
"Hey, Pete," she calls out and notices the look on my face. "What's wrong?"
"Hit myself on the fence again," I say, grabbing my scratched-up side.
"You really need to get better at sliding through that hole. You're small enough. And besides, didn't you get yourself in the exact same spot last week?"
"And the week before," I nod. We walk farther into the woods until we reach our clearing on the hill, and Madge stops short.
She's staring at my shirt, on which a red flower of blood is blossoming. "You're bleeding. Come on, take off your shirt, you know the drill."
I plop down on the grass and do as she asks, watching her nimble hands tear a strip off of the piece of linen she keeps in her bag for this reason. It cost us a few squirrels and some berries, but it was worth it. My entire back is scarred with evidence of our meetings in the woods; raised white stripes criss-cross up and down my arms and legs as well, but it's mostly in my back.
After my wound is taken care of, we hunt. I'm a bit too loud to hunt most animals, but I'm alright with traps and good with plants. Madge can take out almost anything with a bow. Between the two of us, we make a pretty good team. Besides, we need to hunt to survive. There's no food in our district and we need to feed our families. Madge has three siblings back home, just as I have Prim and my mother.
We walk back to our clearing, and I pull a raspberry out of our bag. It's our tradition, every year. I toss it in the air, laughing, and Madge grabs it, throwing it as far as she can off of the hill. "Happy Hunger Games," she says.
"And may the odds be ever in your favor," I reply. We giggle, but our moods are bleak. My name is in the reaping bowl twenty-six times. Madge's is in it thirty-nine. Every slip of paper is one chance closer to almost certain death.
Of course, there's also the chance that it could lead to fame, glory, riches, and severe emotional trauma, but that's too small of a possibility to even honestly consider. Supposedly it's an honor to be reaped in some districts. Not here. There is no honor in being killed by another child.
After selling our goods at the local black market, we head home. I bring a small bag of berries and nuts with me alongside our regular share of the goods in order to bake a loaf of bread after the Reaping. Kind of a "congratulations, you haven't been picked for televised death!" sort of thing.
I comb my hair and change into the one nice set of clothes I have before, taking Prim's hand, we head to the Justice Hall.
Effie Trinkett is onstage, looking ridiculous as ever in a pink wig, and Prim clutches my hand harder. Unfortunately, we are separated into age groups and I lose her to a sea of twelve-year-olds. I see Madge across our group of sixteen-year-olds. She nods quietly.
Onstage, after the usual formalities and propaganda, Effie Trinkett was adjusting her wig and reaching into the bowl labeled of girls' names. "Ladies first," she says.
Her hand reaches in.
My heart pounds for my sister.
They're not going to pick her.
They can't.
"Primrose Mellark."
My head is spinning. My little sister. I love her unconditionally. I didn't have much trouble making friends, not really. I had been told that I was a good communicator. But Prim meant more to me than anyone else. The way she clutched my hand when she was scared; the way her smile was infectious, her laugh could spread through the Seam. I can't let her die. Before I know what else to do, I scream.
"I volunteer. I volunteer as a tribute."
There is a collective gasp. I hear cries of "Peeta! You can't!" Volunteering as a tribute is allowed, but uncommon. Especially in districts like ours. It was signing yourself up for certain death. In all of the previous seventy-three Hunger Games, our district has had two victors, and no volunteers.
Prim is crying as the peacekeepers march me up to the stage. I will not cry. I will be brave for my little sister.
"Your name, sir?" Effie asks.
"Peeta Mellark," I declare as confidently as I can, but my voice still wavers.
"I take it you are Primrose's brother?" I just nod, and she addresses the crowd once again, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a volunteer. May I have a big round of applause?"
District 12 does not applaud. They raise three fingers of their left hand in the air. The most majestic salute they can give.
Shortly thereafter, Effie reaches into the girls' bowl again. She will not need the bowl of boys today. They will all be safe for another year, at least from this particular torture.
I do not recognize the name she calls, but I know the face.
"Katniss Everdeen."
She is the baker's daughter, a small girl with the dark coloring of the Seam, despite living in the better part of the district.
She saved my life once, and now, to save it again, I will have to kill her.
Okay. There we have it. Chapter one.
Let me know how it was?
In other words, review or I'll send the mutts after you.
No, but seriously :)