In my dream, my dad's running. Running for his life. I bolt up, screaming, and look over to see Vick and Rory's gloomy expressions. They know I was having a nightmare about dad's death.
You see, four years ago, my dad died working in the mines. Most people who live in District 12 work in that wretched place. The mine explosion killed him and a lot of other fathers too; including Katniss's. Katniss is my best friend and hunting partner. Our families, like almost every other in the district, are barley scraping by. Even with me and Katniss hunting and trading daily, we still go to bed with empty stomachs some nights. I get out of bed and dress quickly, grab my hunting bag, and head into the living room. My mom is on the couch, snoring lightly. I tiptoe to the door, and my mother stirs and looks up at me.
"Gale," she whispers.
"Yes, mom?"
"I love you."
I look the strong woman in the eyes. After all she's been through, she still keeps going. "I love you too," I say, and head out the door.
At first I'm blinded by the sun, rising and shining happily in the morning sky. It's almost a shame that today, the day of the reaping, is beautiful. I walk into town and turn toward the bakery. Mr. Mellark looks up from the counter when he hears me walk in, and I'm welcomed with a sad smile.
"Hey, Gale," he says. "Come to trade?"
In response, I hold up a squirrel. The baker nods and turns to the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with a warm loaf of bread. The aroma makes my mouth water, and he hands me the bread with a light smile. He's being especially generous today. Reaping day usually has this effect on people.
"Thank you, Mr. Mellark," I say.
"You're welcome, Gale. Thank you," he replies.
As I walk out the door, he calls, "Good luck!"
I turn around and nod, then start on my way to the woods. Ah, the woods. My source of survival. One of the few places I can be myself. The place where even Katniss laughs. The woods are illegal, and trespassing through them is punishable by death, but Katniss and I both would rather be shot in the head than starve to death. It's much quicker, and far less painful. Once I reach the fence, I hold my ear up and listen for a minute. The fence is supposed to be charged with electricity 24/7, but it almost never is. The lack of a buzzing sound tells me that it's turned off, so I lie on my stomach and crawl through one of the many holes that are in the fence. When the trees block my presence from the district, I reach in a hollowed out log and grab my weapons. A bow and arrows and a knife. Carefully, as I slip the knife in my belt and swing the bow and arrows over my shoulder, I walk up the hill to the spot where Katniss and I usually meet. I'm first to arrive, but I don't mind waiting for her. In a few minutes I hear her coming around the bend, and her face brightens up when she sees me.
"Hey, Catnip," I say. When she first told me her name, she barley whispered it. I thought she'd said Catnip, and when a crazy lynx started following her around, it became my official nickname for her. We had to kill it because it was scaring off game, but the whole thing was pretty amusing.
"Look what I shot." I say, holding up the bread I bought with my arrow stuck in it. Katniss laughs while she walks up to where I'm sitting and takes the loaf, removing the arrow, and sniffs it.
"Mm, still warm," she says. "What did it cost you?"
"Just a squirrel." I say. "I think the man was feeling sentimental this morning, even wished me luck."
"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we? Prim left us a cheese." Katniss says, taking the cheese out of her bag. Prim is Katniss's little sister. She is small, sweet, and owns a goat that produces milk. It's a funny story how she got the goat... but that's not important.
"Thank you Prim. We'll have a real feast," I say. I start to talk in the Capitol accent, mocking Effie Trinket, the oddly colored energetic woman who comes every year to read off the names in the reaping. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" I pick a berry from a nearby bush. "And may the odds-" I start, tossing the berry in a wide arc toward Katniss. She catches it with her mouth with a satisfactory smile and finishes the catchphrase. "Be ever in your favor!"
We have to joke about it because the objective is to be scared out of your wits. Plus, the Capitol accent it so abnormal that it's hard not to make fun of it.
I pull out my knife and start to slice the thick, warm bread. I spread the bread slices with the goat cheese, gently placing a basil leaf on each one. Katniss goes to the bushes and starts picking the berries. We decide to eat in a place hidden by rocks, so no one can see us, but we can easily overlook the brightening valley. Looking at the woods can sometimes make me angry, and I feel my body filling up with hatred toward the Capitol. How can they sit idly by while we starve to death? Suffer the trauma of the reaping? I think of my dad, how he used to love the woods. I try to think of what it would be to live here always. Then I hear myself voicing my thoughts. "We could do it, you know," I'm saying.
"What?" Katniss asks, clearly confused.
"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it." I say. The idea is quickly becoming more and more real to me. No more Capitol. No more reapings. No more Games. Then I remember. "If we didn't have so many kids," I add. They're not our kids, but our siblings and mothers might as well be. Katniss and I are the main supporters for both of our families. They couldn't live without us, leaving would mean killing them. To starvation and the Games. Neither of us could do that.
"I never want to have kids." Katniss says bitterly.
"I might. If I didn't live here." I say.
"But you do live here." Katniss reminds me, annoyance in her voice.
Thank you, Katniss, for crushing my dreams. I am the man of my house, but I'm still a kid. Sometimes things just slip out of me and explode.
"Forget it." I snap back.
We eat the rest of the meal in silence. That was awkward. I keep trying to think of something to say, but knowing Katniss, that will probably annoy her. So I stay quiet.
"What do you want to do?" Katniss asks, breaking the silence while we walk down the valley. We can hunt, fish or gather.
"Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something good for tonight," I answer. After the reaping, you're supposed to celebrate. Most families do, happy that their children are safe for another year. But two families will shut their shutters tight and mourn over their child that they will probably never see alive again.
We end up with a pretty good haul for the day. By late morning we have a dozen fish, some greens, and a gallon of strawberries. We go back under the fence and head toward the Hob. The Hob is in a building that used to be used for coal storage, but when better systems were worked out it was abandoned. Slowly it turned into the black market where we make most of our trades. We trade six fish for good bread and two for salt. Katniss and I head toward Greasy Sae, a skinny old woman who sells soup, and trade her half our greens for a couple chunks of paraffin. Greasy Sae doesn't give the best trades, but she's the only one willing to buy wild dog, so we like to be generous sometimes. We don't mean to hunt wild dog, but when you're attacked by a pack... well, you have no choice.
When we're done trading at the Hob, we go to the back door of the mayor's house to sell some of the strawberries. The mayor has a sweet spot for them, and he always gives a fair trade. Madge, the mayor's daughter, answers the door. Madge is Katniss's age, and Katniss once told me that they sometimes eat together at school. She's wearing an expensive looking white dress today and has her blonde hair tied up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes.
"Pretty dress," I say.
Madge shoots me a look, trying to figure out if I'm being serious or just bitter. If she guessed the second, she's right.
"Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?" Madge says.
Now it's my turn to be confused. I think she's messing with me.
"You won't be going to the Capitol," I say. My eyes move to a golden mockingjay pin on her dress. It's probably made of real gold. That could keep my family in a supply of bread for months. I think of the unfairness of this all and say coldly, "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old."
"That's not her fault," Katniss breaks in, giving me a look.
"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is." I say.
Madge looks away from me and hands Katniss the money for the strawberries.
"Good luck, Katniss," she says.
"You, too." Katniss replies before the door closes.
I can tell that Katniss is annoyed with me- again. She doesn't like how I talked to Madge. She's right, though. It isn't her fault. But is it my fault that my family is poor and I'm forced to sign up for tesserae? No.
Back in the Seam, Katniss and I split the rest of our trades. We each get two fish, a few loaves of bread, some greens, a quart of strawberries, salt, paraffin, and some money.
"See you in the square," Katniss says.
"Wear something pretty," I reply flatly.
I walk in the door of my house, only to be swarmed by my brothers. We start wrestling while Posy, our little sister, cheers for the winner. My mom walks in the room, shakes her head teasingly at us, and walks to the kitchen. I go over to her (which is hard, considering I have a brother on each leg), and hand her my bag filled with the trades. She opens it and starts to make soup, setting the money aside. Once the soup is brewing, she looks up at me and my brothers and points to the bathroom. Our heads lowered, we walk to the sink and start to rub the grime off our bodies, only to start a water fight. Little Posy comes in, gets splashed, and runs to out, only to come back in again screaming.
"Boys! What are you doing now?" My mother calls from the kitchen.
"N-nothing!" We all reply, laughing.
"They're having a water fight! Come on, mom! It's fun!" Shouts Posy. We all grab her mouth to quiet her, but she's already told. Vick, Rory, and I all start drying ourselves and the bathroom, failing and only making it worse. My mom comes in, angry, but apparently thinks we're cute because she starts to laugh.
"You missed a spot," she says, ruffling my hair.
"Oh, did I? Huh, you would think Rory and Vick would know how to have a proper water fight," I say jokingly.
Rory and Vick look over at my mom and say, "Yeah, mom. We need more practice. I think we should have another water fight."
"Oh, no, you don't," my mother replies. "Now, go get changed."
After we're all wearing "nice clothes", we line up in the living room. My mom comes out of her room holding Posy's hand. They both look so pretty in their dresses. If only it wasn't for the reaping. My mom looks at all of us, fixing our shirts and smoothing out our hair. Then she takes a step back and sighs.
"Shall we?" She says, heading out the door.
I fumble along side her, a Posy on my back, a Vick on one leg and a Rory on the other. It's a good thing I'm tall.
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