What would have happened if Madge had jumped to substitute herself as the girl tribute, instead of Prim? And, what if Gale had his name drawn instead of Peeta? This is a Gadge piece that explores the possibilities of those very questions. (Be nice with your comments, I don't have a Beta or anyone to edit for me)
"Madge, if you don't hurry along then you'll be late for the reaping," my mother pathetically moans from her room, her voice barely carrying from upstairs to where I currently am, cutting strawberries in the kitchen.
She'll be nestled away in bed for the rest of the day, excused from the reaping because of her illness. It really isn't even an illness. Whatever happens to her is a self-induced sickness that she could quell if she really had the motivation. These are my secret thoughts. They only really blaze when I am fed up with her act of being helpless. I love my mother but she has created this life for herself and she doesn't understand the hurt she causes my father and I.
The knife is deposited in the sink and I place the strawberries into a container, sticking them in the fridge. I quickly glance down at my dress, seeing that it has maintained its soft white color. A stain on my dress would reflect badly upon the image of my father. He's a good man and a messy daughter isn't something that he deserves. He also doesn't deserve a falsely sick wife, but that is a matter for another time.
"I'm going now, mother. I love you," I softly call up the stairs, cringing at how delicate my own voice sounds. It sounds just like my mother's. I cough and shuffle out of the room and through the rest of the house. I'm glad for an excuse to leave now and the thought that I could catch a glimpse of Katniss brightens my mood.
I'm aware of the stares I receive as I begin the stroll through town to the square. They always stare, like I am some specimen that they can't quite understand. Madge Undersee. That is who I am and that is who I have always been. I'm quiet and observant, considerate and easy to irritate. I have never appreciated the way they gaze at me, sometimes with menace or other times with curiosity. How hard is it to approach me? I'm the mayor's daughter, not untouchable.
Dignity is something that I have always been able to maintain. I don't give them the benefit of turning my head from side to side to try and meet all of their stares frantically. It makes me seem more arrogant but I don't have to prove anything to them.
I tried to show some kindness to one of the Seam boys once. His name is Claude and he fell from a tree when he was younger, permanently twisting his leg. The boys in the schoolyard would push him and call him Cripple. One time, I rushed over to his side and tried to help him stand because they had pushed him into the mud. His response was to pull the ribbon from my hair and spit in my face. He yelled "City bitch" at me then pushed me away.
Katniss almost detached his head from his body. I didn't let her go near him. From that day on I vowed that I only had to prove my value to myself and the opinions of everyone else were to be disregarded. Except for Katniss. She rushed over and fished me out of the mud, scooping up my ribbon and spitting at the boy. From that day one I have ranked my friendship with Katniss at the top of my priorities. I worry over her constantly and I would do anything to help her family, if she would let me. She's even more stubborn than I am.
There is only one thing about Katniss that I would ever aim to change. Gale Hawthorne. He has done nothing but corrupt Katniss. He takes her into the woods and has urged her to defy the rules, telling her that it is the only way to survive. That isn't the way it has to be for her. When she came to our door the first time with strawberries I begged my father to adopt her. I told him "No girl like Katniss deserves to have to act so desperately." But I would never talk to Katniss about my worries; she wouldn't want to hear any of it. So, I left the girl with the bow to do what she did best: survive.
I am frowning heavily at the invasive thoughts of Gale Hawthorne when I feel someone tug roughly on my hair, causing my ribbon to fall loose. "Is there any reason to act to childish?" I curtly snap, sweeping down to retrieve my ribbon. There is no time for shenanigans. I just want to get to the reaping.
"I could ask you the same thing. Your ribbon is very childish," says the mocking voice of Gale Hawthorne.
The pink ribbon is clutched tightly in my hand, which has started to shake. It's clear that I don't have any tolerance for this boy. My hair is tumbling around my face and it takes all of my restraint not to brush it back from my face furiously. "Katniss gave me this ribbon for my sixteenth birthday," I tell him through gritted teeth.
Instantly, any trace of malice dissolves from his face. Gale still cannot understand how Katniss and I have bonded through the years. It's doubtful he can even begin to perceive the depth of our friendship either. Just because we both have connections with Katniss doesn't mean that I can tolerate him anymore. We have arguments over Katniss. Our personalities clash, horribly. Katniss has had to divide her time accordingly between the two of us, Gale receiving more time with her, naturally. I would envy him, if he weren't such a gaping waste of space.
He has recovered quickly, reaching out and pulling on the lace of my dress. "Planning on heading to a wedding, instead of the reaping? Absence at the reaping leads to incarceration, you should know that Madge." Gale speaks formally, and I take it to be an attempt to mock the way that I speak.
I'm focusing on sweeping back my hair and sloppily tying it with the ribbon. Hair falling into my face is the possibly the biggest pet peeve I have, besides the constant nagging of this Hawthorne boy. "The dress belongs to my mother. It's an exact replica of what my Aunt Maysilee wore the day she was reaped." My words come across sharp, seeming to tear into Gale's composure because he falls quiet. Again.
There is no more time available to worry about Gale and his childish antics. A bell is sounding from the square, signifying that the reaping is about to begin. An image of my father's searching glance combing the crowd propels me forward, but not before I swing back and attack Gale's hand. "See where acting like a little boy gets you!" I holler back to him and begin to stumble forward, trying to save both of us from being late. He resists instantly against my grabbing at his wrist, which only causes me to pull him along with a fiercer tug.
"Don't trip in those pretty sandals you have strapped on your feet," Gale says, his voice taunting me with caution I know is anything but genuine. If I could spare the time then I would reach back and smack him across the head. Gale tests my very patience and each time I resort in giving my urge to immaturely react him. No one else has this sort of effect on me.
I grit my teeth, pressing on with more speed. Sometimes it's surprising, how swift I am. No one would ever expect such things but I'm actually light on my feet. Surprises are the best way of overwhelming people. No one knows exactly what I can do, that always seems to give me the upper hand.
Pleasure courses through me as I notice that Gale seems to be surprised. For a moment he stumbles, which is not acceptable. With a sharp tug he is upright again and trailing behind me, keeping up to pace easily. The sandals hinder me some, making it feel like they could slip off my feet at any moment. My breathing is stifled because we have traveled so quickly but were at the very edge of square now, just able to make out the pink head of Effie Trinket.
We skid to a stop just in time to hear Effie chirp out, "Primrose Everdeen!"
From the area sectioned off as the sixteen year old girls I hear someone let out a cry of anguish. I don't even have to crane my head to know that it is Katniss. A shaking Primrose begins to travel forward to the stage, unnerved because the crowd has no reaction towards the reaping. Usually there would be a sprinkle of claps and a few hollers but since it is a twelve year old girl that has been reaped they are all silently praying for Mrs. Everdeen. She'll have to watch her daughter fend death off on every screen in District 12.
Gale lets out a breath and I can tell he is stricken by the reaping as well. Something grabs tightly at my chest. Suddenly, I know that I can't let this choice happen. Katniss is holding out her arm to keep Prim from stepping forward any further, which gives me the perfect chance to bound forward. "I volunteer from Primrose Everdeen!" It comes as a surprise to everyone in the crowd because my voice has never reached past a hush toned. But I wholly mean what I just said.
I keep my gaze focused on the glass ball at the edge of the stage, purposely avoiding the face of my father. His spindly form is on the other side of the stage and an unreadable expression has overcome him. As I stride past Prim and Katniss, I can't even manage to glance over at the two Everdeens, my ribbon falls from my hair and a mess of blond is tumbling around my shoulders. So far I have managed to cause quite the scene.
Effie seems unaffected by all of this, still bobbing happily about the stage with Prim's slip in her hand. I climb the stairs with trembling legs and reach a hand for Effie to take. "Dear, you are going to the Capitol in style!" Effie screeches, both of her slim hands enveloping mind. "Don't tell me…you're Madge Undersee!" I give a nod as a response before shuffling off towards the side of the stage.
This is the choice I have made and no else is going to try and intervene with the way that I have set fate against me. If my mother had been attending the reaping she would have begun to sob the moment I screamed out to alter the choice of the Prim being chosen. My father is internally dreading what I have done but he knows that it his -+isn't place to deny the choice I have made. Inevitable death is what I am going to face with a set grin on my face. Because if I am going to be dancing with death I might as well make a show out of it.
Directing my eyes out onto the crowd I see Katniss huddling closely to Prim. Her eyes catch my stare and she lifts the three fingers of her left hand to her mouth before extending them out to me. Prim does the same. All of their gratefulness has been transferred into that large gesture, also creating a swell of confidence within me. I'm going to fight with all of the life that resides within me. A smug smile sets on my face, quickly to be wiped off when I hear the name Gale Hawthorne called out in Effie's silly Capitol accent.