"Good luck," Gale muttered under his breath.
"What?" I ask, not sure I heard him.
"Nothing." Gale takes a deep breath and sighs. "Is there a water fountain in this place?"
I nod, "On the other side of the lobby, take the middle hallway and the first right."
Gale walks back the way we came without saying a word. The words he had spoken were enough. "Good luck" was certainly sinking in, as I remembered my statement from earlier in the day, bidding Katniss good luck, while planning to recast her fate. There was no way you could have known, Madge. My mind tries to console me to no avail.
There has to be something I can do for her, show her in some way that I will miss her and that she was always closer to me than anyone else, even my parents. There has to be something to make it easier to forget that I switched out the entries-
A realization strikes me with the sudden force of the headaches that infirm my mother. I need to replace the original entries! Eagan's father told me they sometimes check over the entries just to be sure that districts aren't changing things at their discretion. The glass bowls will soon be emptied into plastic bags and shipped back to the Capitol on the train with the tributes. Since only two names are scrawled on every single entry, the conspiracy will certainly be noticed, and there would be an investigation. The danger that my part in the subterfuge could be discovered is too great.
My shoes click on the hard tile as I walk across the lobby and down the other hallway, heading for the janitor's closet, glancing in the storeroom as I pass, feeling a light exhilaration to see the bowls returned there, bleached paper and all. The Tissue box opens again with a quick yank, and I grab the four duffels. I'm about to leave the closet when I see two more Peacekeepers move into the room and my heart sinks, They are both carrying bags. I'm too late!
It's strange how easily that rests in my stomach, at least compared to the other consequences of my actions. If the fixing is discovered, it could mean imprisonment for me, unseating of my father from his mayoral position, even a summary execution of my whole family, but what it will not do is save Katniss and Peeta. The tribute selection is final.
As I watch, the men come back out only moments later, evidence sealed in the bags. The duffels shake in my hands gently for a moment. There's no time to bother about this now. I stuff the four bags into the second box, draw the new package out of the larger box, and seal it. The label was already filled out: C.V.C./ Main Office / District 11; all I have to do is leave the box in the mail room.
A brisk pace carries me there in moments. As I expected, it's abandoned for the day's events. I drop the box into an out bin where a few other packages rest. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk back to the front-hallway, suppressing my worry as best I can.
The songbird pin glints on my dress as I pass underneath the lights in the hallway. Suddenly, I decide what to do. It doesn't matter now that I've put these two tributes on the train. I block out everything I've done today up to this point, giving my head a light shake.
Mrs. Everdeen and Prim are waiting in the hallway once more so I look at the door and then at them, raising my eyebrows. "Go on in, Madge. It's your turn," Mrs. Everdeen says. A Peacekeeper holds the door open for me, and as I move through the frame, my hand pulls the songbird pin loose from my dress.
I reinforce my heart with strength and walk over to Katniss where she sits on a couch. My voice strains with forced effort, binding it under control, "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena, one thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?" The pin rests on my fingers, heavy shape of gold.
"Your pin?" She distantly replies, her eyes hardly focusing on it.
I lean forward, "Here, I'll put it on your dress, alright?" It only takes a second to secure it to the fabric. "Promise you'll wear it in the arena, Katniss. Promise?"
"Yes," she says with enough worry to knife at my belly.
My bottom lip quivers, and I stifle the tears that are sure to come by kissing her on the cheek. It seems trivial as I'm leaving, because we weren't all that close. I wish I had gotten to know her better. Maybe I would have looked at the entries before I switched them, or maybe Katniss would have talked me out of helping the underground in the first place, had I been a close enough to seek her advice.
I turn up the hallway trying to think of something to say to Peeta, trying to think of any occasion in the past where I even spoke to him. I doubt that we've exchanged two words in sixteen years. That doesn't matter, since his mother is still visiting with him. I won't have a chance to soothe my soul on his count. And I shouldn't, anyhow.
I stay in the Justice Building, watch from a second-floor-hallway window as the two tributes are escorted to the train, bags of entries following behind them. All of it, my responsibility. What have I done?
