Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games books. This is an idea that I've wanted to test out for a while. Each chapter takes the point of view of one character present in the indicated scene. Hope you enjoy!
Book: The Hunger Games
Scene: The reaping
POV: Gale
Anger and hurt still throb inside me from Katniss's refusal to leave District 12 with me, but anxiety pushes them both away. What if my name is picked? My mother, without me or my father to help, would struggle to put enough food on the table for three children. The thought is almost too overwhelming.
Pushing these unwanted thoughts out of my head, I focus my attention on the front of the stage when the sole victor of District 12, Haymitch Abernathy, staggers drunkenly forward. He throws his arms around a pink-haired Effie Trinket, who looks alarmed and tries to fend him off.
To get the attention off of the drunken victor, the mayor introduces Effie Trinket, and she bounds forward, as cheerful as ever. She chirps in her silly Capitol accent, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Tuning out most of the following, up-beat speech, I pick through the nervous faces until I find Katniss and our eyes meet. She looks slightly amused at this reaping's eventful start, but then she glances at the glass ball in front of the stage, and concern fills her eyes. Forty-two of the slips in there have my name on it, but she has a fair amount of her own slips. My jaw tightens as fear for her twists my stomach, and I look away.
Effie Trinket says as she has for all the past Hunger Games, "Ladies first!" and crosses over to the girl's reaping ball. She plunges her hand in, down towards the bottom. I clench my teeth. Please. Not Katniss. Her hand closes around a slip and draws it out. Please. Not Katniss. Effie Trinket crosses to the podium. The crowd is as silent as a graveyard. She holds up the slip. Please.
"Primrose Everdeen."
No. It's not possible. Katniss never allowed Prim to take any tessarae, strictly forbidding it, so she would only have one slip. That one had been picked, one out of thousands. Disbelief leaves me numb. The crowd murmurs unhappily. No one likes to see a twelve-year-old chosen, especially not Prim.
White as a ghost and hands clenched by her sides, Prim rises stiffly from her chair and walks determinedly forward. A choking cry comes from behind her. "Prim!" Katniss cries, stumbling to her feet. "Prim!" The pain in Katniss's voice brings me to my feet, too.
Katniss reaches Prim and pushes her out of the way. "I volunteer!" she gasps. "I volunteer as tribute!" Anguish lurches in my stomach. No!
"Lovely!" says Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's the small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if no one does come forth then we, um…" she trails off, looking unsure.
"What does it matter?" the mayor asks, eyes fixed on Katniss, and even from where I'm standing, I can see the pain on his face. "What does it matter?" he repeats, louder. "Let her come forward."
"No, Katniss!" Prim, screaming hysterically, latches herself around Katniss's waist, holding on with all she's got. "No! You can't go!"
"Prim, let go," Katniss says harshly, trying to hold back tears. She sets her jaw and recovers herself, ignoring her sister's attempts. "Let go!"
My legs move of their own accord, bringing me to the front of the stage. I pull the still screaming Prim off of Katniss, and we lock eyes. "Up you go, Catnip," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but it hurts. I want to scream like Prim, beg her not to go, do anything, but I know I can't change what's happened. All I do is carry the writhing and sobbing Prim off the stage.
Katniss mounts the stage, and I hear Effie Trinket gushing, "Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the Games!" She sounds thoroughly pleased. "What's your name?"
"Katniss Everdeen," comes the response.
"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody!" trills Effie Trinket, turning to the audience. "Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"
No one claps. No one moves. Katniss stands rigid on the stage, as the audience remains silent. Then, like a ripple of water, fanning out to every person in the square, they touch the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then out to Katniss. A sign of thanks and a sign of admiration, a good-bye to someone you love. They know, as I do, that this is the end. She's not coming back. I'll lose her forever.
If anyone has suggestions for future chapters, I'd be happy to hear them! Please reply!