Hey everyone,
this was originally meant to be my first story which I brainstormed with a friend of mine (AnItalianDuck), but instead I wrote 'Trained to Win' and 'A victory to remember'. If you've read them, you may even recognise a character in here, as I'm making a few slight changes to the canon story, but you'll see what I mean next chapter.
So without further ado, here is 'An Unexpected Pairing'
Chapter 1 – May the Odds be In Your Favour
"How much?" The sun is barely in the sky by the time I stand facing Mr Mellark in the doorway of his bakery. There's little left in my game bag from the day before, but on such a day as this, I'll trade all of it for a bit of breakfast to take with me to the woods.
"One squirrel." A squirrel? That's all? It almost feels like a crime when I trade my squirrel for the delicious bread I know will have just been baked. Bakers always do that, wake early and do all their baking in the morning, or the night before in some places apparently, I'm thankful that Mr Mellark and his sons do it in the morning, the fine bread is still warm to the touch, and I barely notice the morning chill. Yet as I turn to leave I hear a simple "Good luck Gale" behind me.
It's silent as I head towards the meadow, and though it's true that few wake up this early in district 12, there are usually some about. Yet today is reaping day, and everyone will try to get all the sleep they can get, for two people it may be the last night's sleep they ever get.
Before long, I end up facing a high chain-link fence, barring me from the woods, as well as enclosing the entirety of district 12 within it. It's meant to protect us from all the savage beasts that lie beyond it: bears, lynx's, wild dogs, yet to me it only ever seems to make home feel like a prison, though the gate stands silent when there should be a constant hum of electricity travelling through it 24 hours of the day, every day of the week. We're lucky if we get two to three hours of electricity here, so it's rarely ever on when I want to pass under the metre long stretch of loose gate and onwards towards the woods.
It's still early, so I check my snares before heading to the rocky outcrop overshadowing the valley which is my usual meet up spot with Katniss; it'll be another hour before she even wakes up, though that doesn't stop me checking the hollow log where she stores her bow. Both of our fathers were hunters before us, I never knew Mr Everdeen well, but I know about his skill of carving bows. Katniss tells me she has near five of them stored around the woods, but her father's bow is the one she uses, and so long as it's stored within the log in its usual waterproof cover, I know she isn't in the woods yet. Sure enough, the bows still there, though I take a singular arrow anyway, my own bow is hidden not far from here in a similar log, but I don't feel like taking it out today, I have my hunting knife and if I'm attacked, it's all I need.
When I get to my snares it turns out there was no point even checking them, I had game yesterday but today they're all bare, save one containing a rabbit which is so beaten up and chewed by some other animal in here, there's no sense in taking it. I simply throw it unceremoniously towards a bush before resetting the snare, and heading towards the meeting point.
The suns higher in the sky by now that I can actually see where I'm going without any difficulty. When I get there there's still no sign of Katniss, and I sit down beside a blackberry bush and take out the baked bread from my game bag. To my delight it's still warm, and with a sly smile I skewer it with the arrow and place it beside me.
I don't wait long before Katniss walks up towards me, and at the sight of me her lips curve into that smile of hers I've grown to love so much. "Hey Catnip." Both of us lost our fathers in the mine explosion five years ago, and both of us started to hunt in the woods on our own, I sometimes think its fate that we started to be hunting partners, though when she first met me she whispered her name so quietly she may as well have said Catnip. It didn't help that a lynx then started to follow her around causing the nickname to stick; I don't think it'll ever drop. Shame she shot it.
"Look what I shot." I hold up the bread and smile at her. As soon as she sees it she lets out that laugh of hers and settles down beside me taking it in her hands and removing the arrow before raising is to her nose to smell it.
"Mm, still warm. What did it cost you?"
"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning, even wished me luck." I almost feel proud of getting the squirrel for such a cheap price, but we all feel closer today.
"Prim left us a cheese." My eyes brighten as she pulls out a lump of cheese from her game bag.
"Thank you Prim. We'll have a real feast." I can't help but smirk then as I take a few blackberries from the bushes and state "I almost forgot! Happy hunger games!" I look to Katniss who I know wants to laugh at my awful capitol-like accent, which everyone in district 12 knows so well thanks to Miss Effie trinket, and toss a single berry up in a high arc towards her. "And may the odds-"
She catches it and swallows, smiling at the sweet juice before finishing "be ever in your favour."
We have to joke about it; everyone else is scared stiff by the Games. 'Let's send 24 children into an arena where they fight to the death and only one of them can come out alive.' Besides, anything sounds funny in a capitolite accent, it's ridiculous.
As I start to slice up the bread I can't help think about how much I detest the Hunger Games. 12 districts, all of them having to compete in a 'games' if it even deserves to be called that, 'hell' might be more appropriate, where one girl and one boy from each district goes to the capitol, is forced to dress like an idiot and ride on a chariot before having a few days of 'training' then being interviewed by one of the weirdest capitolites in the whole of Panem, and then being thrown into an arena to fight to the death live on television.
"We could do it, you know." I don't know what makes me say it, but as the hate for the hunger games rises within me all I want to do is leave.
"What?"
"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it." I know from the look on her face that she thinks it's a stupid idea, and maybe it is, but as I say it, it almost seems possible. "If we didn't have so many kids."
They're not our kids of course, but our siblings: her little sister Prim who comes of age for the Games this year, and my three siblings, Rory (same age as Prim), Vick, and Posy. Then of course there are our mothers, we could never abandon them I guess… but as I think about it, it could work. We could all run, we come here every day and no-one bats an eye. After the games, which are mandatory to watch for at least an hour or two a day, Katniss and I could come out to the woods and try to find somewhere, an old abandoned house or something. If there was one, we could fix it up, and if not, we could build one, a cabin, far out in the middle of the woods. We could hunt, our mothers could cook, and we could teach Rory and Vick to hunt, Prim never could she always gets squeamish about hurting animals. Plus buttercup, an ill-tempered cat of prim's could keep away any vermin, and Prim's goat could give us milk and-
"I never want to have kids." I blink at her, before looking out across the valley.
"I might. If I didn't live here."
"But you do." Her tone is irritated and just by those three words I know she'd never do it; it's as though my fantasy shatters before me.
"Forget it."
There's an uncomfortable pause which seems to go on forever, before Katniss finally plucks up the courage to break it. "What do you want to do?"
"Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight." And even though I didn't say it, I know both of us think it, after the reaping.
We do well at the lake, and our previous tiff or whatever you call it, is forgotten. By late morning we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens, and a large quantity of strawberries. Katniss found the patch a while ago, and as the mayor likes them (and pays good money for them) I strung up some mesh nets around the patch to keep out the wild animals.
Living in the Seam, we head straight for the Hob, a black market that operates in an abandoned warehouse that, once upon a time, held coal. It's called a black market, but practically all the seam folk and the peace keepers for that matter know about it, and no-one really classes it as illegal at all. Most businesses are closed on reaping day anyway, save the bakery, apothecary, and the Hob, which is still fairly busy; I've never seen it quiet during daylight.
It's almost too easy when we trade the six fish for more decent bread (even if it's not from the bakery), and two more for salt. Greasy Sae then takes half the greens off our hands for a couple of chunks of paraffin. We could always sell better elsewhere, but she's the only one who takes dog meat off us. Not that we hunt it, but if it attacks, we kill it without a thought, and it's no use going to waste.
Once done at the hob I go with Katniss to the back of the Mayor's house to sell half of the strawberries we picked. Madge, his daughter, opens the door, and even though I have no real reason to, I can't help but feel a slightness of contempt towards her. She isn't a snob, she's alright I suppose, and is almost a friend to Katniss (she doesn't have many…) but she isn't more the Seam, and that is why I can never like her, not properly.
"Pretty dress." She shoots me a look and I don't react. It is a pretty dress, not surprising though considering who she is.
"Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look pretty." I look at her confusedly and then my face darkens, and I know Katniss feels it.
"You won't be going to the Capitol. What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just 12 years old." My eyes rest on the gold pin that adorns her dress, real gold, and beautifully crafted, it would feed my family for weeks.
"That's not her fault."
I look to Katniss but still I just feel anger. "No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is."
The reaping system is unfair, it always has been. You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn 12, making this year Prim and Rory's first reaping. That year, your name is entered into the great big bowl of name slips once. Twice when you're thirteen, three at fourteen, and so forth. But if you're poor, like practically everyone in the seam is, you can get tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meagre year's supply of grain and oil for one person. You can do it for every member of your family as well, so when I was twelve, I took out my share, and a share for both of my brothers (Posy wasn't born) and my parents. My father didn't die until I was thirteen.
The thing is, it's cumulative. I've been taking out tesserae for myself and my family every year since, so now my names in forty-two times. Lucky me.
My face is still stony and annoyed as we head home. I know Katniss agrees with me, we've both ranted about tesserae often enough, in the woods where we know they don't hear us, whoever they are, but she's right when she points out how it doesn't change anything, but that doesn't stop me yelling in the woods.
We divide our spoils leaving two fish, a couple of loaves, greens a few handfuls of strawberries, salt, paraffin, and a bit of money for each of us. Once done, I close my game bag and she hers as she looks up at me and says "see you in the square."
"Wear something pretty." My voice is flat and emotionless when I reply. We go our separate ways, though we don't live too far apart, and after a minute or two of walking I'm back at my own front door. It's a small hut, with only two bedrooms, one for me and my brothers, and one for my mother and sister, but it's home.
I wipe the stony expression off my face before entering, I don't want my family to see me annoyed, Rory will already be feeling worried, I know I was.
"Hey Mum, I'm home!" I call out as I walk through the door, and before I even close it properly behind me I hear a loud "Gale!" and a small figure throws itself at me, wrapping its arms around my waist. Unprepared, I stagger back slightly then smile down and ruffle the hair of Vick, my youngest brother.
"Hey little man."
"Did you shoot lots of game?"
"Better. I got us a rare treat. Take a look." I hold the bag out to him and he quickly releases me to look inside.
"Hello Honey." Looking away from my brother I see my mother standing in the doorway between her room and the main room, with Posy perched on her hip giggling happily. Four years old yet still ignorant of most of the world's horrors. I really envy her.
"Hey Mum." I walk over to her and give her a one armed hug as Vick shouts out with glee about the fish. She's already wearing her plaid dress, especially worn for parties and special occasions, and Posy is in her own little Pink dress with a matching ribbon in her short hair. It's almost sick that the capitol request we dress smartly for the reaping, it's like dressing yourself for your own funeral, or at least for two people it is.
"You have two fish?"
"And bread, a couple strawberries, paraffin, and a few greens." I shrug at her, she isn't even surprised that I have so much; Katniss and I always try to get more on reaping day, and don't sell as much to leave us even more.
"That's great, I'll cook the fish for lunch, there's a warm tub waiting for you in the back room, when you're cleaned and dressed it'll be ready and we can sit down to eat before-." There's a soft creaking of floorboards as Rory comes in from the bedroom, wearing a grey shirt tucked into sleek brown trousers. "Well, we can sit down to eat." I smile sadly at her as she stops herself from talking about the reaping and turn to Rory.
"Hey Rory."
"Hey Gale. You caught fish?"
"Yeah, two, help Mum prepare it okay?" When he nods, I turn and walk towards the back room and slowly climb into the warm tub awaiting me. I scrub off all the dirt and sweat I accumulated from the woods, and even rinse my hair before getting out and dressing in the faded blue shirt and brown trousers my mother laid out for me earlier.
We try to eat jovially, my mother, Vick, and I talking like it's a usual lunch, and Posy smiling happily beside my mother, and making the odd comment, but there's still a shadow of misery amongst us, and Rory doesn't say a word. He only has one slip, just one, I refused to let him take out tesserae, though as this is my last year, it's likely that next year he'll have to, but for now all he has is one, and if my the time he's my age he has 4 less slips, or even one less than I do, it'll be enough.
We save most of the bread and some of the greens for the evening meal. We still have some chees so it'll probably just be cheese sandwiches tonight, but we've always had big lunches on reaping days, mum says it helps make us strong for it, even though we shouldn't need to be.
When we've finished, Vick helps with the washing up, and I take his seat next to Rory.
"Hey, cheer up. It's just reaping day."
"But it's not just reaping day. It's reaping day. The day where two people's name will be pulled out of the reaping ball and two people will go to their deaths."
"Two people. But not you."
"You don't know that." He looks me full in the face, and I feel a pang of sadness at the evident fear in his eyes.
"Yes I do. You have one slip. I have forty-two, and Sean Edmonds in my year has 74 slips. He has 7 people in his family, and he's the one who takes out tesserae. You'll be fine." I give him a one armed hug as my mother and brother finish with the dishes, and then stand.
"Come on, let's go."
Attendance at the reaping is mandatory unless you're at death's door. This evening, officials will go around all the houses to check if you are, and if you're not, you're imprisoned. The square is usually one of the pleasant places in district 12, but on reaping day it just feels grim. The banners and camera crews perched like vultures on rooftops', don't help the matter either, and only add to the effect.
We file in silently and sign in. 12-18 year olds are herded into roped off pens within the square, with the oldest like me at the front, and the youngest such as Prim and Rory, towards the back, with our family members around the perimeter.
A feeling of slight claustrophobia overtakes me as more and more people file into the square, but not even the square can hold the entire population of district 12, and latecomers are directed to adjacent streets to watch the entire 'show' live on television. I look around and see Katniss arrive and take her place in the 16 year old section, exchanging nods with a few other girls before looking towards the stage. I follow her lead and do the same.
There are three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls. In one of those balls, my name is on forty-two slips. On the chairs sit Mayor Undersee, Madge's father, a tall balding man, and then Effie Trinket, a highly annoying capitolite woman who is even more annoyingly district 12's 'escort. She sits with her usual scary white grin, pinkish hair and spring green suit. It's disgusting.
The last chair remains empty, which absolutely no-one finds to be a surprise. Two mentors from each district have to go with their tributes to the games, but as we only have one, the same mentor sits on stage every year and every year goes to the capitol. Haymitch Abernathy. A drunk. He won the second quarter quell where there were 48 tributes rather than 24, but ever since he returned he's never been the same, and spends most of his time either drunk as hell, or lying in bed with a searing hangover, which he thinks the best cure for, is to drink more.
The mayor and Effie mutter to each other before evidently deciding that they should start anyway, and as the clock strikes 2, Mayor Undersee steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same everywhere, the history of Panem, the dark days, the uprising, and the treaty of treason. I've heard it so often that I let it go past me without realising, instead thinking of what I'll do tonight at home, and the next days in the woods, and then my mind reverts back to what could happen if we did all just run away. Would they have caught us?
The sound of hollering brings my attention back to the square and I watch as Haymitch staggers up the stairs, drunk as always. The mayor was evidently reading the names of past victors, and the crowd begins to clap, the token applause. Yet confused, Haymitch just goes to hug Effie Trinket, if it wasn't the reaping, it'd almost be funny, and she barely fends him off.
As it's televised though, district 12 is now the laughing stock of Panem, and the mayor can't help but seem distressed. As we're always the laughing stock however, I don't see how he's still upset about it; everyone else is used to it by now. I look back to Katniss and as she meets my eye a ghost of a smile appears on my face. As reapings go, at least this one is funny. Then I remember the forty-two slips, and I know she does to, so I turn away, my face darkening.
Then it's time for the drawing… the main event. Effie stands and walks over to the large glass balls on the stage, her large heels echoing across the square as they hit the hard wood. "Ladies first!" She walks over to the girl's ball and moves it around dramatically before pulling out a slip of paper beneath two elongated fingernails. She then walks over to the podium and smooth's it out. Not Katniss. Not Katniss. I know it's wrong to wish for another girl to be the one to die, but right now I don't care, I just don't want Katniss to be the girl who dies this year.
And I'm right. It isn't Katniss. "Primrose Everdeen." It's worse than Katniss.
The crowd murmurs unhappily as they always do when a 12-year-old is chosen, but my head whips around to look at Katniss, who simply looks speechless. She blinks and then opens her mouth but I don't hear what she shouts. She tries again, and this time everyone hears. "Prim!"
The small fair-haired girl I've come to love like a little sister keeps walking towards the stage, her fists clenched as I know she tries not to cry. She's almost at the steps when the other kids' part for Katniss as she runs forward and pushes the small child behind her. "I volunteer!" NO. Katniss, No! "I volunteer as tribute!"
Confusion spreads like wildfire across the district. District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades and the protocol itself has become rusty. In some districts, people volunteer willingly, there, winning the reaping is a great honour, like districts 1 and 2, sometimes 4, but here it's a death sentence. The rule is that once a tribute's name has been pulled another eligible child of the same gender can step forward to take his or her place.
"Lovely! But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers and then if one does come fort then we, umm…" Effie trails off; most of the square is glaring daggers at her.
"What does it matter?" The mayor cuts across her and I see him look to Katniss with a pained expression on his face, the girl who brings him the strawberries. Five years ago he presented both her and me with a medal of valour for our fathers, who were vaporised in the mines, now all he is thinking is that the girl he gave the medal to all those years ago will never come home after today, it's clear from the look on his face.
"What does it matter? Let her come forward." Prim's hysteric screams fill the square as she wraps her arms about Katniss refusing to let go. I walk quickly towards them as she continues to shout how she can't go, and she won't let her.
"Prim, let go." Katniss's voice is sharp but I know her well enough to know it's just for the camera's, she doesn't want to seem weak, and the competition will watch her daring her to cry so as to mark her as an easy target. Katniss won't let that happen.
I reach them and go to pull little Prim up and away from her. She thrashes hard, tears streaming down her face but I just wrap her more tightly in my arms and look to Katniss determinedly. "Up you go Catnip." I turn and head towards Mrs Everdeen, Prim still shouting in my arms, as Effie talk's nonsense and almost seems excited about my best friend going to her death, and I hear "Katniss Everdeen" echoing throughout the square as she's asked her name.
As I pass Prim over to her mother, both of them wrap themselves in each other's arms as Effie dares to ask for a round of applause for "our newest tribute".
No-one claps. I turn to face the stage again and go to return to my place, and the whole square is silent. Then a shift occurs and one by one almost every member of the crowd touches three middles fingers of their left hand to their lips, and holds it out to her, my best friend, who has now become something precious to us all. I join the salute, a gesture that is very old, and rarely used, it means thanks, it means admiration, and it means goodbye to someone you love. It has never been used more appropriately in history.
She looks like she's about to cry, yet then Haymitch staggers up and throws an arm about her shoulders. "Look at her! Look at this one! I like her! Lots of… Spunk!" He releases her and staggers a bit as she continues to shout and holler at the top of his lungs. "More than you!" He turns to the closest camera boy and points directly down the lens. "More than you!" Is he addressing the capitol? I don't know, and then he plummets off the stage in front of his all, knocking himself unconscious.
Haymitch is whisked away and I see Katniss has composed herself. Effie then continues as though nothing happened. "What an exciting day! But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"
How is that more exciting.
She walks over to the great glass balls once more, this time the one for the boys, and reaches inside. I try to catch Katniss's eye, willing her to look at her so I can let her know through looks rather than words that it'll be alright, we've always been able to do that. Becoming hunting partners has allowed us to know each other almost, if not better, than we know ourselves. But she looks determinedly over the hills, and I know my attempt is futile. If she didn't have to, I doubt she'd even look at the boy tribute when his name is called, as she knows he'll only have to die, for her to come home.
Effie smooth's out the slip as before and coughs that irritating cough of hers, before speaking the one name that could make this day the worst it could possibly be.
"Gale Hawthorne."
Please remember to review, the support is what encourages me to keep on writing. Next chapter will be up soon!
Thanks!
~Tara