The room they deposited and locked me in was an odd mix of furniture, leading me to wonder about the purpose of this space when it wasn't being used for this macabre festival. To the right of the door was a wooden table, stained a deep shade of reddish brown, with a surface as shiny as a mirror. There wasn't a speck of dust on it. Four matching chairs were pushed under it. Further around, in the far corner was a small couch, a stuffy looking chair, and between them, a table with a lamp. It would have looked very cozy in my living room. Much better than the ratty seats we owned that smelled like a stagnant puddle on a hot summer day. Next to the couch were a couple of empty shelves. They did look dusty and had several shelves missing or broken. The last thing, just to my left was a wiry, ornate table and two chairs. The table was barely large enough to hold a single cup and the chairs looked like they might collapse if I sat in them. It was the most useless thing I had ever seen.
After wandering about for a few minutes in nervous silence, I strode across the room and decided to sit on the couch. I perched on the edge of the cushion, leaned my arms onto my legs and began naming every speck of color I could see in the carpet. I sincerely hoped they weren't going to leave me in here alone with nothing buy my thoughts for much longer. This part of the Games was untelevised and therefore not known to me. The uncertainty had me on edge.
Suddenly, I heard noise outside the door. It was being unlocked. I stood up quickly, ready to take on whatever it was they were sending at me now. My buddy, Thom, lumbered into the room and the door was closed and locked behind him. I relaxed a bit at the sight of him and he crossed the room in two big strides. We met in a brotherly hug that was as comforting as it was brief. Thom clapped me on the shoulder, then stood back shaking his head.
"I'm so sorry, man. I don't know what to say."
I shook my head right back at him. "Don't worry about it. There isn't anything to say. We knew I had the highest chance of anyone to be chosen."
"I know, but to have to go with.." His voice trailed away. He didn't have the heart to say Katniss. "I mean, only one of you can win. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know, Thom!" I snapped. He looked hurt and this was not how I wanted to say goodbye to one of my best friends. "I'm sorry, I..."
"No," he cut me off, "it was my fault. Of course you don't know what to do."
I sighed and shook my head again. "It's pretty shitty."
A weak "yeah" was all Thom could muster. "I will make sure to check on your family and the Everdeens. You know, see if they need any help with anything."
"That would be great, man. Thanks." He gave me another quick embrace before heading for the door.
"Thom." He turned around to face me one last time. "If there was ever a year to place a bet on District 12, this would be the year."
Thom smiled at that and said, "I bet you're right, Hawthorne. I've never know you to back down from a fight. And I've never known you to win anything against Katniss Everdeen." The truth of his words brought a faint smile to my lips. "Good luck, Gale."
"Thanks, Thom." With that, he rapped on the door and was let out. I was exhausted already and he was only my first visitor. Now I understood why the Capital allowed this. They got to appear merciful, but it only served to wear down the tributes even more. To strip us bare of our courage like sheep sheared before a slaughter.
I breathed in slowly a few times to regain some stamina and sat back on the couch. No sooner had I hit the cushion than the door swung open again and my baby sister flew into the room to jump in my arms. Her tiny frame squeezed around my neck and I smiled at the normalcy of it all. If I closed my eyes, it felt like any other day when I came home from school or hunting. But this wasn't any other day, and one look at my brothers was proof of that. They walked over to me slowly, followed by my mother who had a weak smile plastered to her face. She was trying to stay strong for the kids.
I decided to address Rory and Vick first. Both looked like they were about to cry. "Hey, guys, none of that now, okay. You've got to keep it together and take care of our girls, alright." Vick nodded and sniffed, but Rory wasn't buying it. He was old enough to realize that the two people keeping us fed were about to leave and may never come back.
"What's gonna happen now, Gale? How are we going to make it?" Rory chocked out, trying so hard not to cry, but failing.
"Listen, you are going to be just fine. We were already stocked up for the Games since we can never really hunt during them anyway. We've got some money saved if there is an emergency, and Thom is going to stop by and check on you."
"But what about...after the games? What then?" He was barely getting his words out now, so I gathered all of them up in a big hug.
"No worries now, Rory. You know what happens after the Games."
He stepped away to question me. "What happens?"
I couldn't lie to him, so I said with as much conviction as I could, "The Victor comes home and then everyone will be taken care of for the rest of our lives."
My words were met with a thick silence until Mom stepped in and announced, "Alright, everyone. Out you go. Wait in the hallway with Thom, please." I grabbed them all up one last time, chanting a chorus of "I love yous" and kissing their heads. My eyes were burning and I desperately needed them to leave the room. Mom ushered them out, requesting to be left alone with me. The peacekeeper obliged her and she closed the door behind my siblings.
I met her halfway across the small room, collapsing onto her shoulder and letting her hold me close, another painful reminder that I was still so much a child. Never since my infancy had I needed my mother more and just like a baby, I wept. "Mom." It was all I could get out, a simple acknowledgment of who she was to me. She lifted my head and wiped away my tears. Shushing my cries and soothing my pain. She always was the strongest of us all.
"Gale, sit down." I moved back to the couch and she took the big chair, holding my large, rough hands in her own smaller ones. "I want you to have this." She reached into her pocket and handed me what looked like a small piece of old paper. I took it, turned it over, and found a faded image of my father looking back at me. "I want you to carry this with you into the arena."
I met my mother's eyes and she laid a warm hand on my cheek. Giving me a sad smile she continued, "You are so much like your father, Gale. You are strong, dependable, resilient. You have become a good man these past eighteen years. Whatever you feel like you need to do out there, Gale, in the arena, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. You don't owe me anything. But I don't want you to forget who you are or where you came from."
A knock at the door signaled that our time was almost up. Mom dropped to her knees on the carpet in front of me, hugged me tight, and whispered in my ear, "You show them all what a real man is, Gale. You show them what we value here in District 12."
"I will, Ma. You will be proud of me."
"I told you, son. I already am." The peacekeepers made a move into the room to separate us, so Mom stood up and I followed. "I love you."
"I love you, too, Ma." One last kiss on my cheek and she was escorted from the room. I collapsed onto the couch and let the tears fall. After a few minutes, I remembered that I still had to make it to the train, so I dried my eyes and wiped my nose with my sleeve, summoning up all the rage and hate that I had for the Capital instead of the sorrow I had for myself. I squeezed my hands into fists until they hurt and I was left with tiny crescents along my palms where the nails had dug into the flesh.
Five minutes or so of solitude passed, and I assumed that my list of guests had been exhausted. When the door opened again, I was ready to be led out to the car that would take me to the station. While that wouldn't be an official media event, there were always a few cameras ready to catch some candid shots of the tributes before they boarded the train. The commentators loved to zoom in on the poor souls and deliberate on the tragic farewells that had just occurred.
Imagine my surprise when I saw Prim tentatively step into the room, shadowed by her mother. Both of them had red eyes and noses, a clear indication they had already seen Katniss. I lowered myself to a knee on the carpet and opened my arms to her. She walked into them quietly and gently, the way of Prim. Laying her head on my shoulder, she said softly, "It isn't fair." I looked up to Mrs. Everdeen for some indication of how I should handle this, but she was twisting her fingers together and staring at the floor.
Taking Prim by the arms, I lifted her off of my chest and looking her right in the eye, I told her with absolute certainty, "Prim, I will do everything in my power to send your sister home." My promise only served to make her cry harder. Mrs. Everdeen came forward and gathered her up, heading for the door. She gave me one last tortured look before leaving the room without saying a word.
The door was not closed behind them. Instead, a guard appeared saying, "That's all of them. Time to go." I exited with him, my thoughts dwelling on those who had visited me as we walked to the car. As far a funerals go, I suppose that one was not so bad. All that was left to do was die.
