Pretty dresses

(Six times Madge Undersee wishes to wear something else and one time she doesn't)

002. Badge of Courage

The crowd on the square has engulfed and swallowed me, my fancy dress and golden pin and all - including the imaginary Capitol seal people often tend to see stamped on my forehead. We are all equal at the reaping, even despite the odds determined by age and number of tesserae.

After all, only one slip is pulled from each ball, and everyone has that much.

Even Primrose Everdeen.

Nobody, not even Katniss, could prevent that accursed piece of paper from being added to the reaping ball, and from attracting the long pink nails of Effie Trinket. Before the shock released its icy grip on my throat, Katniss's already cried out, volunteering to take the place of her sister.

The unthinkable just happened.

The resentment I've felt towards the Games ever since I can remember, daughter of a Capitol official or not, no longer touches me with icy fingers of a ghost I've never known. It cuts right through my heart.

It came down to the only girl I consider a real friend, so this time, it's personal.

What could I have done to personally prevent it?

I imagine myself on the stage… wearing not a dress too pretty by Seam standards, but something the Capitol calls haute couture in garish pink... and being an object of infinitely stronger hatred than I'm used to. Not the daughter of a vainly struggling Capitol magistrate, but the person they all see reaching for their names. In Effie's skin and wig and heels, I could have peeked at the paper and left it in the reaping ball… to save Prim and consequently Katniss and perhaps Gale too…

…but only by condemning another child to death…

Oh no.

How foolish. And cowardly.

The only way to help would be to raise my voice before Katniss, to don the armor of sacrificial bravery fastened by the suicide-sentence I volunteer.

It wasn't a decision I would dare to make, much less on the spur of the moment… unlike Katniss. Unlike my aunt almost quarter a century ago, who was quicker on the uptake and rushed to the stage in place of her twin sister.

Katniss made a difference now, not a secret one, but a difference everyone can see.

Now she's standing on the stage and furtively shaking her head towards the boys' section. Despite his oh-so-high number of entries, Gale wasn't reaped, and one difference is enough.

After all, there can be only one Victor.

Can I do anything to assure it would be Katniss? Do I even have the right to?

Could she make enough difference to make her victory survivable?

The most I can do is to give her a message. It's hidden in my most treasured possession, but I'll gladly give it to her, if there's any chance it will help.

I detach the mockingjay pin from my dress and clutch it in my hand until it pricks my skin and draws a tiny drop of blood.

In the waiting room, I vaguely wonder where Gale is, until I see Mr. Mellark emerging from Katniss's room. Did Gale see him enter and decided to go intimidate Peeta? I wouldn't put that past him. But it doesn't matter, not now.

I stride in and start speaking before the shock of seeing Katniss this vulnerable closes my throat.

"They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena," I say without preamble. If I tried consolation, I might break before she does, so I focus solely on the most important matter. "One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?" I hold out my pin.

"Your pin?" she says, wrinkling her brow like she couldn't fathom what I am giving to her and why. I can hardly comprehend it myself, but it seems like the only right and possibly significant thing I could do.

"Here, I'll put it on your dress, all right?" I don't wait for an answer and fix the mockingjay to her dress. "Promise you'll wear it into the arena, Katniss?" I ask. "Promise?"

"Yes," she agrees, still obviously perplexed, but there's no time to explain. Hopefully, it will compel Haymitch to retain interest in this spunky tribute.

To let her shine.

I feel almost cruel for doing that. To both of them. But it might make just enough difference.

When a Peacekeeper opens the door, I turn and immediately find myself face-to-chest with Gale.

Before he quickly sidesteps around me, I steal a single glance up. His expression, however guarded, tells me just enough to realize exactly how deeply and personally the reaping cut him. The veiled pain in his eyes almost matches expression in Katniss's when her darling little sister tremulously passed us on her way to the stage, but not quite. Of course he won't miss her like a sister.

Katniss might be taking my pin, but now I know she'll be taking his heart.

In fact, just a little farther away.

On my way out of the Justice Building, I briefly, absurdly, selfishly wonder if Gale would notice the golden mockingjay on a dress that he must consider pretty without any sarcasm and resentment, just because it's Katniss wearing it.

But of course, stupid, I chide myself. He'd notice anything on her… and wouldn't hate it.

I wish I could tell him that I gave her much more than a posh bauble to show off in the Capitol. That it's more than a family heirloom… it's a part of a rebellious legacy that would be no use here, but could matter if Katniss does it justice.

And I believe she would. She might truly win the Games.

The girl doesn't even know how much she can win without even trying.

I wish I could wait for Gale to emerge, or more likely, to be dragged out, and tell him all that and more.

But I can't.

That would be too… personal.