Mmkay, so this is an idea I had because for some odd reason I just love re-writing the Hunger Games, but yeah…
If you love the Hunger Games, check out my forum, (see the link on my profile) and join!
If you love this, then you should check out my Prim's Game fic, which is a re-write with Prim in the games.
I don't put disclaimers because I don't claim to own the Hunger Games. Isn't that rather obvious?
Okay one last thing: Reviews for me are like clapping for Tinker Bell. They make me update faster, and improve my stories, so please review! ^^
-MS
~Gale POV~
My head is spinning.
Forty-Two Slips.
Forty-Two chances to be reaped.
I glance at Katniss. She's lucky, she's only got twenty chances. Rory, the older of my two little brothers is standing in the first row of boys, because he's only 12. Like Katniss' sister Prim, he's only got one slip in, I wouldn't let him take any extra.
Swallowing, I try to clear the pounding in my ears to hear the female tribute's name.
Not Katniss. Anyone but Katniss. I look at her, and she smiles weakly at me. This is not a time for happy smiles. Effie takes the stage and we break away to watch her overly manicured hand descend into the glass bowl that will determine mine and Katniss' future.
She pulls a slip, shuffling over to the microphone. I wonder how it's possible for her to walk in those heels, the heels look like they could snap in an instant. She clears her throat, trying to get our attention and I refocus on her.
"Primrose Everdeen"
No! Not Prim—"NO!" I hear her voice as she surges forward, trying to get to little Prim, the tiny little stick of a girl who's slowly walk towards the stage.
"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" She screams, dashing to Prim as my heart breaks. Katniss, my Catnip, she can't go! I need her here, safe at home, not dead in a cardboard box from the capitol!
My feet force themselves forward, to Prim, before the peacekeeper can get to her, and blindly, I take her back to her mother, waiting behind the children, tears streaming down her face. I set Prim down on her feet, and her mother envelops her in a tight hug, holding her as I return to the rest of the boys, thoroughly shaken up.
Effie has Katniss by the arm, and they're saying something I can't hear through the grief clouding my ears. Katniss looks shell-shocked, and can barely hide her disgust for Effie's hand on her arm. Her face is a dead white, her eyes are huge as she takes in the severity of what she's done.
Two words echo through the deadness in my ears, because I know what I need to do.
"Peeta Mellark."
It's the baker's son. I mentally scoff as I step forward to the bottom of the stage, my eyes locked on Katniss' as she shakes her head no at me. I don't care. My mouth says the words, not my brain.
"I volunteer as tribute for Peeta Mellark," I say, pronouncing the words correctly in comparison to Effie, who is grinning ecstatically. Looking like that, I'm not surprised; this is probably the most excitement she gets in a year.
"Is it true? Another volunteer for District 12?" I step onto the stage with eyes only for Katniss, who is refusing to look at me, jaw set with anger.
"What's your name, darling?" I glance at Effie.
"Gale Hawthorne." My voice sounds disconnected. I can't hear it properly. The grief is clear throughout the whole town.
She giggles again, that awful squeal sounding more and more like a pig each time, "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the tributes of District 12, Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne!"
To their credit, not a single person claps.
Not the ones holding betting slips.
Not the ones stoned as a mine.
Not the mayor.
Not Madge.
No one.
And then it starts, as if everyone had the same idea, as if everyone shared a mind, all at once, they raise their right hand, touch three fingers to their lips and hold it out to us, as we stand with our hands raised by Effie's awful paws.
It's our district's sign of goodbye, a way to bid adieu to someone you love. I swallow, and stand straighter, feeling the strength of our district behind me.
Effie giggles nervously, and drops our hands, clearly wanting to move things along. "Shake hands, you two!"
I hold out my hand to Katniss, who glares at me with a kind of angry hate that is just so irresistible. She takes my hand, shaking it once before dropping it like it's a wet slug, and it feels like we haven't known each other since we were little. It feels like we're strangers, meeting for the first time.
Peacekeepers walk over to us, surrounding us and separating us. I walk forward, and the feel of Katniss' cold shoulder chills me to the bone. A peacekeeper prods me in the back and I walk faster, into the justice building to the small room where I have three minutes to say goodbye to my life.
There's no way I'm going to live, because Katniss is going to win. I'm going to get us down to the last two and kill myself. Nobody can touch her with me there.
And if by some crazy freak of nature, she does die, I'll kill myself. I cannot imagine a life without my best friend and the object of the biggest crush I've ever had—
"Gale?" Madge comes bounding in, and leaps into my arms.