"Ga-ale," Posy's voice is firm, pleading, and oh, so irresistible. "Pleeeease come with me to the show. Please, please, please."

Apparently there's some concert going on at the Justice Hall tonight, and Posy has been begging me for the past three hours to come with her. "Aw, Posy," I groan, rubbing my face. "I'm tired. I worked really hard today."

Posy's silent for a moment, confused. I work hard every day, and she knows that. "Gale," she whines again. "I really, really want you to come with me."

"You really should, Gale," I hear my mother chime from the kitchen. "Gives you something to do rather than sitting in your room scowling all night."

Posy giggles. "Yeah, Gale," she says, grinning. "You need to smile sometimes."

I sigh. How could I? In a world like this? But I do. "Alright, Pose." She laughs. "I'll go with you. What is it for, anyway?" She gets up from her spot on the floor to sit next to me. She curls into me, and I wrap my arm around her. "It's a piano recital," she says. "Lots of people will be there." I hold back another sound of protest. "There's this one girl, and she's so pretty, and she's so good at the piano," Posy says, her face glowing, excitement in her voice. "I want to be like her when I grow up. Except I can't, not really."

I grin. "And why's that?"

Posy rolls her eyes as if I should know the answer. "Because she has blonde hair, Gale." She rakes her fingers through her own almost-black curls, and sighs lightly. "I wish I did."

"Why would you want to stand out like that?" I ask, rubbing her shoulder. "Like a sore thumb."

"But she's so pretty -"

"So are you." Posy is, really. She has a sharp jaw, sparkling bright grey eyes, and skin somehow unaffected by the coal dust that finds its way on everything in the Seam. "Prettier than whoever this girl is. What's her name, anyway?"

"It's - oh, Gale, we have to go! The show starts in a few minutes!" Posy grabs my wrist, her hand just barely circling it, and she yells hurried goodbyes to everyone as we stumble out the door.

"Oh my," Posy breathes as she pushes open the front door of the old stone building. The usually dusty floors, walls, chairs and tables are immaculate. Chandeliers hang in a pattern across the gold ceiling, just one of them probably costing more than I've earned in a lifetime. There are white tablecloths covering each round table, candles flickering. There's food at every table, and it breaks my heart to see the literal hunger in her eyes. But we each take a plate as offered and we don't say a word.

After we eat, she leads me eagerly into the theater. Before I know it we're sitting in the front row, lights practically blinding us. People are murmuring all around, and Posy turns around to chat with some people she must know from school. I lean back and close my eyes, waiting for some implication that the show is starting.

"Gale!" Posy giggles, jabbing her finger into my shoulder. "Don't fall asleep!" I sit up, opening my eyes. "I wasn't," I grumble. "Just waiting."

"Well it's starting," she says, her voice hushed. The lights dim and the crowd falls silent. An old man with a crooked bow tie walks out from behind the curtain, all smiles, proclaiming how happy he is we have all made it. He introduces the first act, a middle-aged woman who plays a few boring songs yet gets considerable applause.

The whole show is boring, to be honest. Until the end. The bow tie man returns again from behind the curtain, cerimoniously tapping the microphone before speaking.

"Hasn't this been a wonderful show, folks?" Applause. "Yes, yes, well, it's not over yet! The whole Musician's Committee of the Outer Districts of Panem is very, very pleased to welcome an astonishingly talented pianist to our show, for the very first time!" Applause. This must be who Posy was talking about. The blonde. I try to think of all the blondes in the District. Prim. Mrs. Everdeen. Mellark and his brothers. Who am I missing? I try to figure it out, but people are again applauding. I direct my attention to the stage. Someone must be walking out. Dammit, I didn't catch her name.

I lift my eyes to her and forget how to breathe.

The instant she sees the crowd, any professional, poised air she may have had disappears. Her eyes light up; she grins, mouth wide open, red lipstick on her lips. Slightly touseled curls fall down her exposed back. She's not too tall, not too short, thin. Curves in some places, straight lines in others. Her dress is a pale blue, sparkling with gemstones on the tightly laced bodice. The skirt falls from the waist like a waterfall, a high slit in the side that you only notice when she bends her knees to sit at the piano. I clear my throat, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I don't have to look to know that Posy is smirking by my side.

Instead of bringing her fingers down to the smooth white keys to play as all the others have done, she takes the microphone with both hands and excitedly grips it, eyes still glowing.

"Wow, um, this is amazing, you guys!" She gestures to the crowd. Everyone has a smile on their face; there are people whistling, clapping, shouting words of encouragement. "I, uh, well...I just want to say that no matter how much I do this, I still get this feeling of, of -" she purses her lips and looks at the ceiling, trying to find words. "I don't know how to explain it! But it makes me so happy that you all come out here to hear me play. The fact that there are so many other talented musicians who have been doing this for longer than I've been alive...and yet you have made me feel like part of you..." her eyes start to glisten. I can tell she's holding back tears. I wonder why.

I look down at Posy. She's biting her lip and clasping her hands together. "I just feel," she starts again, "like I matter. And this is all so beautiful. Thank you." Then there's more cheering, more clapping. I can't move, I can only see her.

She plays an intoxicating slur of songs, one after the other; she briefly explains each one, but I only hear the smooth, soft sound of her voice, not the actual words. A few times, I think I actually see her look at me. Posy must, too, because she excitedly elbows me each time, raising her eyebrows.

All too soon, the last note plays, and the applause is deafening. An absolute roar. The open-mouthed grin she had when she walked out earlier is back on her face. She looks around, bringing her hands to cover her face, and then stands. "Thank you so much!" she yells, waiting for the crowd to hush. I still haven't moved; I can't. But if she noticed that, then she surely noticed the tranquil, awestruck look on my face.

"So, um," she begins again, twirling the ends of her hair around the fingers on her hand that isn't holding the microphone. "I'll be here for a while, so if you want to come back and talk to me, that'd be cool!" She smiles again as the crowd cheers. "I can't wait to see you!"

She winks, waves, and calmly strides behind the curtain without looking back.

"Gale!" Posy shrieks excitedly. I snap to attention. "Mmm?"

Posy giggles. "Gale, can we go back there? I want to meet Madge so badly!"

Madge?

"Who's Madge?"

"Gale." Posy sighs, much like our mother when I frustrate her. "You just spent the last 45 minutes looking at her and barely blinking."

Madge. The familiarity of the name shakes me. But the girl I just saw, no, I've never met her before...

"Y-yeah, Pose," I take her hand in mine and we follow the line out the theater doors. People are humming all around us, and I hear her name over and over again. The long file of people leading into a small room must be where Madge is, so I lead Posy over to the end. "This is going to take forever," I mutter. Posy looks at me with those damn big eyes. I squeeze her hand. "It's okay," I smile. "We'll stay." She grins, jumping up and down. "I'm so excited!"

"How come I've never heard you talk about her?" I ask. Posy frowns. "Whenever I do, Mom just gets sad about how she can't buy me the music." I nod, knowing I shouldn't have asked. I've seen some like it at the Hob, and on the counters of the shops in town. Reflective discs barely bigger than my hand. Used to be a lot cheaper, I was told. But now they're as much as I earn in a week.

The line is growing smaller, and before we know it, there's only one person ahead of us. Posy is practically exploding in anticipation. After what feels like forever, the person in front of us leaves, and Posy rushes up to Madge with uncontainable joy.

"Oh my gosh, hi!" Madge exclaims. She crouches on her knees, her dress pooling around her as she wraps Posy in a huge hug. When she pulls away, she asks, "Did you like the show?"

"Yes!" Posy nearly shouts. "You were the best part. You're so pretty."

A dark pink blush creeps onto Madge's cheeks, down her neck. I force myself to smile down at Posy to hide the obvious effect the smiling blonde is having on me at the moment.

"Thank you, but you're so much prettier," Madge insists, tapping Posy's nose. She giggles. "That's what Gale said, but it's not true," she blurts. At the mention of my name I look towards Madge, who's eyeing me suspiciously. She laughs awkwardly, straightening herself. "This must be him, then?" she clears her throat, trying to regain composure. Posy nods. She reaches out to hug me. I want to hold her in my arms and feel her body against mine, her chin on my shoulder, but it's all too short. "I'm Madge," she says as she pulls away. There's a small smile playing at her lips, the opposite of her huge stage grin. "It's so nice to meet you."

Have we met before? I want to ask. Damn, I want to. But I don't.

"What's your name?" she asks Posy, reaching behind her for a small stack of CDs. They don't have her face on them; just simplistic photos. Piano keys, nature. There's one that shows the flame of a candle. For some reason it makes me cringe.

"Posy Hawthorne," my little sister announces proudly. Madge stops, not moving her gaze from the black marker between her fingers. "Posy," she says slowly, writing it out on the front of each case. With each, she adds an "I love you" and quickly signs her name. "What about you?" she smirks, breaking the strange wall she seems to have built between us. "Something tells me you don't really have interest in a CD."

I shrug. Still smiling, Madge opens a drawer and pulls out a small book. It's all paper, wrinkling at the edges. She doesn't sign anything on the front. Instead, she opens it to the back cover, quickly but steadily writes something down that's definitely longer than an "I love you." I feel my face get hot at the thought of it. Quickly, she hands the book to me, and the look in her eyes tells me don't look now.

Posy is too busy ogling everything to notice the strange little interaction between Madge and I. She looks back when Madge asks, "Do you guys want a picture?" I avoid answering as Posy eagerly nods. Madge takes a bulky camera off her desk; it's ancient. It can't be the one she used for the huge line of people here earlier. Like she's done this a hundred times, she holds it out in front of all three of us and grins, her mouth wide open, just like on stage. Posy wraps her arms around Madge's waist and I try to lean beside both of them in the least awkward way possible. She presses a button, there's a flash, and in a moment, a white card with a black film over it slides out of the front. In a few seconds, I see our faces smiling back at us. Hell, she looks gorgeous.

This time, she clearly and slowly writes "To the Hawthornes," on the white space beneath the photo. There's something so innocent, so real, about it. It seems like we're best friends, not like some coal-dusted kids from the Seam are standing next to a celebrity. Something about how she knows exactly how to spell Hawthorne (God knows how many times I've had to spell it out for people) and the way she gingerly hands it to me, not Posy, puts me on edge. She hugs both of us again, smiling at Posy, talking with her a bit before a large, muscular man pushes open the back door and says, "Miss Undersee, it's time to go."

Undersee.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Pose," she says, brushing Posy's bangs out of her eyes. She hands her the CDs and hugs her for what, the fourth time. "I hope I can see you again sometime!" she says, her voice clear and bright. She grins at me and I know it's completely fake. She can't really hide the sadness in her eyes. Almost, but not completely. The man clears his throat, and she kisses Posy on the cheek before we both leave, Posy's goodbye considerably more enthusiastic than my own. "See you," Madge calls quietly as the door shuts behind us.

"Gale," Posy begins as soon as we're outside in the cold autumn air. "How did she know my nickname?"

"Hmm?" She doesn't...

"She called me 'Pose,' like you and Mom and Rory and Vick do."

I stop for a second, staring at the ground. Posy patiently waits. As I resume walking, I say quickly, "I don't know. Maybe it just slipped out."

Posy's skeptical, but she lets it go.

I don't. It's all I think about until I fall asleep that night.