Cold War Kid: Gale Hawthorne's Story
Song-Fiction from Gale's POV of The Hunger Games trilogy using music by the Cold War Kids
Note: This first chapter is long, but they will get shorter as I continue
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story. They are the property of Suzanne Collins.
Chapter 1 – Mine Is Yours
You were changing colors like the leaves in fall / I was saving up for the long winter / Summers we'd hideout in my car / When it broke down, we didn't care / We'll figure out another way to get me there / What is mine is yours
A faint pink begins creeping into the sky's darkness and I wonder how it is possibly dawn already when I haven't slept a wink. I sit up and look across the room. Rory is sound asleep. Peaceful. It must not have hit him that his name will be in the reaping for the first time today. To be honest, I don't think its hit me either.
I shudder at the thought and have to remind myself that his name is only in there once. Not like me. My name is in there a grand total of forty-two times. It must be some type of District 12 record. The fact that I haven't been chosen already is a miracle. Nerves are eating away at the pit of my stomach. I have a worse feeling than usual about this particular reaping. Too many people I care about are eligible. Rory, Katniss, Prim…
Even though I don't have to meet Katniss for another hour or so, trying to get any more sleep is useless. My mind is too busy. I tiptoe out of bed and down the hall. As I pass my mother's room, I see Posy is lying next to her. Her eyes open and she gives me one of her famous smiles that could stop the world from spinning. I smile back and hold one finger up to my lips. She nods and goes right back to sleep. This isn't the first time she's caught me sneaking out in the wee hours of the morning.
The cool, morning air is refreshing and I decide to take the scenic route past the Justice Building, which has been transformed overnight for the ceremony. A banner with the Panem seal hangs above a temporary stage that has been set up with a podium, three chairs, and two glass balls filled with names on pieces of paper. Cray, our Head Peacekeeper, is "standing guard" - passed out in one of the three chairs. Rough night at the bottom of the bottle is my guess.
The coast is clear, and I have a sudden urge to sprint over and remove our names from the balls. But I know that if I were caught, even Cray couldn't turn a blind eye and I would be publically executed in that very spot. They don't even hold trials for crimes like that. The Justice Building. What an ironic name for a place that is responsible for anything but.
I continue walking, eventually making my way to the edge of the Seam where I slip under an opening in the chain-link fence. I take in the chirping of the birds, the humming of the crickets, the leaves rustling in the wind. How simple life is out here. I inspect around and see that we've caught a squirrel with one of the twitch-up snares Katniss and I set. Actually, she set it. I just watched. Her snares have really improved from the day we first met.
I realize that I have a little more time before she'll get here and I suddenly get an idea. Stuffing the squirrel in my game bag, I make a quick dash back through the fence, and into the Seam. I pass the Justice Building once again as I make my way into the town square. Careful to make sure I don't have any observers, I quietly glide towards the backdoor of the town's bakery and knock.
It's usually only Mr. Mellark, the baker, who is up this early but today I have the delightful fortune of being greeted by one of his sons. Peeta. I've seen him around for years but I only learned his name recently. Guess he couldn't sleep either.
"Is your father around?" I ask, "Wanted to see if he's interested in a trade."
Peeta nods. "Sure, he's in the kitchen. Let me go get him. Gale, right?"
Oh, please, as if you need to ask that question. Of course you know my name, I think to myself. Peeta Mellark. I had never really given him much thought until a few months ago when I kept catching him staring at me. In the school hallway, walking around the town, at mandatory district ceremonies. It had really begun to creep me out until I started to put two-and-two together. The only time he stared was when I was with Katniss. And that was worse.
I just nod in return and he disappears.
A realistic love runs out of room / I try to talk big but my mouth don't move / Cause I don't own the sun and I don't own the moon / They only come out when they want to / They don't care whether I promised you / What is mine is yours
Katniss and I sit on our rock ledge that overlooks the valley, feasting on bread, cheese, and berries. The bread is still warm from the bakery oven, and I laugh to myself when I notice the crumbs all over her hair. She always manages to get food in her hair. I reach over and begin picking out the breadcrumbs with my fingertips. Her cheeks turn the lightest shade of red.
"Here," I say, holding out my hands underneath her lips, "Make a wish."
She rolls her eyes at me, but eventually closes them, purses her lips, and blows. Her breath sends a chill that flows up my arms, through my neck, and into my head. I watch her watch the crumbs float off into the wind like dandelion seeds.
She's quiet for a long time before she mumbles, "Maybe it'll come true."
I know what she wished for and it kills me that I'm so helpless. I can protect her from a lot of things but there is no way I can protect her from the reaping. I would take tesserae for her and Prim out in my name if it was allowed, but you can only take tesserae for family members. Katniss would never let me anyway – she's stubborn like that. So instead, her name is in there twenty times. The thought makes me sick to my stomach and I concentrate hard on holding down the bread and cheese. After a long silence, I finally muster up enough courage to say what has been on my mind all morning.
"We could do it you know," I whisper, barely audible – half because what I'm about to say could get me locked up in the square's stocks, half because I am terrified of rejection.
"What?" She asks.
"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it."
And we could. I know we could. We were made for the woods! We would have more food than we would know what to do with and I could build us a small hut somewhere. The woods are the only place either of us ever smiles - whether that's because of the actual woods or because we are around each other, I'm not sure. But we would be free. We would never have to worry about rationing food, or mine explosions, or the stupid Hunger Games again.
I am completely serious until I see the look of despair on her face. I immediately know why she can't go. She's Katniss Everdeen: patriarch, martyr.
So I quickly add, "If we didn't have so many kids."
"I never want to have kids," She responds. I'm not sure why her words hurt me, but they do.
"I might. If I didn't live here," I say back. She's right, though. Having children when you live in District 12 is just plain selfish because they are destined for a life of starvation and reapings. Perhaps if we let the whole population die off, the Capitol would finally throw us a bone.
"But you do," she snaps back. Which is exactly why we should leave, I think, but I know the point is moot so I just tell her to forget it.
We spend the afternoon fishing and gathering and trying to talk about anything except the reaping, but 2PM still looms over us like a dark raincloud. We have a dozen fish, a bag of greens, and a gallon of strawberries by the time we leave. After we trade some of the fish and greens for bread, salt, and paraffin at the Hob, we make our way over to the backdoor of the mayor's house to get some of the strawberries off our hands.
The mayor's daughter, Madge, opens the door. She's nice enough, and friendly with Katniss, but something about her just always rubs me the wrong way. I think it's because she is so modest, which Katniss finds endearing but I just find annoying. I almost prefer the kids who rub their wealth in my face to the way she tries to hide it. It's unnatural. She wouldn't last one day living in the Seam.
At least today she dressed more like the rest of the upper class, I notice. It seems she has given up imitating Katniss for once, trading in her dull school clothes for an expensive white dress and pink ribbon.
"Pretty dress," I comment before I can think about the double meaning behind my words. Katniss shoots me a dagger of a look.
She smiles sweetly. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"
I can feel my blood start to boil because that is exactly the thing about her that drives me so crazy. Her naivety. Does she actually think she has any chance of being chosen? That gold pin she's wearing so nonchalantly could feed my family of five for months! I doubt she even knows what tesserae is.
"You won't be going to the Capitol," I respond calmly, my eyes on her gold pin, "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was twelve years old."
Her mouth falls open and she looks down, nervously tugging at the bottom of her dress. It's not uncommon for Madge to be speechless, since she is always pretty quiet, but this time it's because of me. I know it's not her fault, that the Capitol put the rules in place and that her father doesn't have the power to change them, but I can't help it. Why does she always have to pretend she is anything like Katniss and me?
"That's not her fault," Katniss says, looking at me dead in the eye. I know she wants me to apologize but I am too worked up now. I definitely didn't get my mother's patience, that's for sure.
"No, it's no ones fault. Just the way it is." It's the best I can do.
Madge doesn't look at me as she puts the money in Katniss's hands and wishes her luck. When the door closes and I know she is out of earshot, I can't help but mutter "Good luck to you too, your Madgesty"and Katniss punches me in the gut. Sometimes I forget how strong she is.
You wanna fight about it / You wanna fight about it / Come on, come on / I made you cry about it / I made you cry about it / Come on, come on / There was no other way / To let you in here to stay / We had to give it away / Come on, come on / And when we come up for air / And when we come up for air / And when we come up, now we know…
I give Rory a pat on the back and he joins a group of twelve year-old boys towards the front of the square. His face lights up when he sees his friends and I realize the true meaning of the day hasn't dwelled on him. Even though he and Prim are the same age, he's years behind her in maturity. I'm grateful for it though. His innocence makes it all a little easier.
I have to pass the sixteens on my way to the eighteens, so I try to spot Katniss but I don't see her. The whole ceremony is horrible enough as it is, but I really hate that they herd us into specific age groups like we're farm animals. It would all be a little more bearable if Katniss and I could stand together, squeezing hands and making fun of whatever ridiculous outfit Effie Trinket decided to wear today. None of the other kids get my dry sense of humor when it comes to the Capitol.
I secure a spot next to Jonah Scott, who lives next to me in the Seam. Our fathers worked together, so our families were pretty friendly while I was growing up. His father survived the mine explosion though and things got a little weird between us. See, Mr. Scott has a bit of a reputation for getting rowdy when he drinks and, whenever we could hear things getting heated, my father would go over and calm him down. It could be my imagination, but after the explosion, it seemed like Jonah was always apologizing to me or something - like it wasn't fair my dad died, when his didn't. But when is life ever fair?
If there is one thing to be grateful for at this moment, it's my height. As I peer over the crowd I finally spot Katniss. She is so small, and a pro at making herself blend in, but I manage to get a clear shot. A pretty blue dress brings out her gray eyes, and her hair is done up in that criss-crossed ponytail thing that I like. She looks absolutely beautiful, except that her face is covered in complete anguish as she keeps a close eye on Prim.
A drunken Haymitch Abernathy introduces Effie Trinket, and I can't help but chuckle when he knocks her dumb wig off center. You would think that with all the fancy gadgets they have in the Capitol, they could at least make wigs that stay put! I make eye contact with Katniss right in time to mouth "And may the odds be ever in your favor", but she just gives me a worried look instead of mouthing them with me.
Effie moves toward the glass ball with the girls' names. My entire body tenses up and my heart begins to beat wildly inside my chest. As I watch her white hands glide around the inside of the ball, beads of sweat drip down my nose and my fists clench so tightly together that I can feel my fingernails digging into my skin. Just pick a name already, I think. The humor from Effie's slow, over-exaggerated movements gets old really quick at these things.
Finally, she selects a name and my breathing stops. The amount of time it takes her to walk back to the podium and unfold the piece of paper seems like an eternity, but her lips finally begin to move in front of the microphone. When they don't make a "K" shape, I stop listening and breathe a huge sigh of relief. Katniss is safe. And that is all that really matters. Only one more name, and then we can go home and celebrate that another reaping is behind us.
Jonah pats my back, and shakes his head in dismay. I glance around and notice that the crowd is upset, with the men murmuring to one another and the women covering their mouths in shock. This can only mean one of two things: that a twelve year old has been chosen, or that the mayor's daughter was picked. I look over at the sixteens and notice that Madge has turned white, but that she is staying put. I figured as much.
As I turn my head towards the twelves area, my eyes catch something in blue fighting it ways to the front. My legs seem to be one step ahead of my brain, and I have already made my way up through the fifteens when it suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks. Prim's name was chosen. Little, fragile Prim. The Prim who has such a big heart that we used to have to tell her the animals we brought home died of natural causes. How could this be? Her name was in there only one time. One time.
I don't know why I am so surprised when Katniss volunteers in her place, but I am. Prim wouldn't stand a chance in the Games. Katniss could at least put up a fight. We had talked about it once before, on the night after last year's reaping, but I had sworn to her it would never come to that.
"But just in case it does happen," she instructed sternly, "You have to make sure I do it. Even if I am too in shock or if I start to chicken out, promise me that you will make sure I volunteer."
I promised her. Not because I thought I could ever keep it, but because I knew she would never chicken out. Even so, hearing her scream those actual words felt like a thousand arrows had pierced me through the heart. Or how I would imagine it to feel, anyway.
I have somehow made it all the way up to the thirteens when she does it. Her voice affects my legs, and they aren't sure whether they want to lock in place or completely collapse from under me so they settle somewhere in between. I stumble forward, causing a group of kids to jump out of the way. Prim is screaming, gripping herself around Katniss's waist, but Katniss just stares ahead, stone-faced. I know she is fighting back tears for the television cameras, and that she won't be able to hold them back much longer with Prim crying, so I muster up the strength to pick Prim up in my arms. She must only weigh 70 pounds, wet, but her violent thrashing makes it a little difficult. My throat is lumpy but I manage to choke out, "Up you go, Catnip," and force a closed-lip smile. Our eyes lock but I have to quickly look away.
Prim's kicking and screaming turns to hysterical sobs, and I think I preferred the kicking. I make my way through the crowd and finally find Mrs. Everdeen standing, frozen, amongst a bunch of parents from the Seam. I set Prim down and she goes running into her mother's arms. My mother is standing nearby, holding Posy in one arm while clamping Vick's hand with the other. She doesn't notice me because her eyes are still focused on Effie Trinket on stage. I can read her lips, and I know that she's whispering a prayer. Religion is strictly forbidden in Panem, but Mom still likes to think that there is a higher power out there watching over us. I bought into it for a while, but after my dad died I didn't really see any point. If it makes her feel better though, who am I to judge?
Her praying reminds me that the reaping isn't over – that a boy's name still has to be chosen, so I quickly look back to the stage. While Effie selects a name and makes her way back to the podium, I consider volunteering myself – so I can protect Katniss. But on a second thought, I know it isn't the wisest idea and it would only upset her more. Besides the fact that only one person can go home as victor, who will feed our families?
Peeta Mellark's name is announced. When the words sink in, I am ashamed about the first thought that comes to my mind because I know there are bigger things I should be worrying about. But I can't help it…
Why does he have to be the one to go to the Capitol with her?
All my stones become your pearls / All my trials are your treasures / All my debt you inherit / All my crimson lines will shine / Cause mine is yours
The Peacekeepers drop my arms, and the door that separates Katniss and I slams in my face. My breathing gets heavy and I try to make a mental record of all of those last moments – the way she looked, the way her hair smelled when she hugged me, the way her voice sounds. My eyes start to sting and I do everything I can to blink back the tears but I can't. I don't cry often, but when I do there is no stopping it.
I start to feel dizzy, so I find a bench in the lobby of the Justice Building and sit down. I replay those final moments and all I can do is focus on everything I forgot to tell her. How much she means to me, how I need her to come home to me, how brave I think she is, how she is the best thing that has ever happened to me, how much I love her…
My anger at myself is interrupted when I see the baker's wife walk out of a room to my right. She has no emotion on her face, as usual, and she leaves the door slightly ajar. I don't know what possesses me or how I even get there, but before I know it I am standing in front of Peeta Mellark.
He stares at me curiously and I realize that I have absolutely no idea what I am doing in his room. Panicking, I mumble an apology and begin to leave but his voice stops me at the door.
"You know, I always thought I would spend my last days with Katniss Everdeen but I never thought it would be like this."
The words ricochet off the walls for a couple of seconds but then Peeta starts to laugh and, for whatever reason, I do too. Loudly. It isn't a funny laugh. It's just one of those insane I-can't-believe-this-is-happeninglaughs. One of those crazy, mental patient laughs. A laugh at the absurdity of it all. And it feels good.
We laugh and laugh like mad men until we are interrupted by a knock on the door. Peacekeepers.
"Listen Gale, if someone comes home from District 12, it'll be her," Peeta promises me.
I take a long, hard look at him. He's short, but stocky. I think he wrestles too, which means he must be strong. And he seems sincere, so he might actually look out for her.
"Thank you," I respond. I mean it.
What is mine is yours
Coming Soon: Chapter 2 - Fashionable
Comments/constructive feedback are appreciated!