"My chest was quickly pounding still. The angel of death at his kill."
Udiah
"Madge darling, sit with me," said Twyla, patting the open space beside her on the settee. Madge looked longingly to her usual chair directly in front of the wall-mounted television. She turned up the volume all the way, before joining Twyla on the other side of the guest parlor. The Capitolites were loud and she didn't want to miss a word of the interviews.
It was difficult to concentrate and host at the same time. Caesar Flickerman finished with the Careers, at which point the Capitolites lost interest. Even with surround sound blasting, Madge had to strain her ears to hear what the fox-faced girl from Five was saying. She made mental notes about each tribute to jot down in her journal later.
"You were absolutely wonderful today," said Twyla. Reluctantly, Madge tore her eyes from the screen.
"Thank you," she said with a shy smile. "I was so nervous."
The smile Twyla returned to her was sticky with sympathy. She leaned in close to Madge and spoke so only the two of them could hear. "This must be so hard for you, having your best friend so very far away." She rested her cool palm against Madge's forearm.
I don't want your pity, thought Madge, going stiff at the touch. I want you to shut up.
"I can't imagine how worried you must be," said Twyla.
"I'm not," said Madge, trying to convince them both.
On stage, Katniss twirled around and around and around. The hem of her gown fanned out like fire.
"She's so pretty," said Prim.
"Yeah," said Gale. He wasn't picturing Katniss as she was now, though, made-up and unrecognizable. He imagined her as she'd been on Reaping Day, her hair in a simple braid that his fingers had itched to play with the end of. He was glad when she finally sat down again. All of that spinning made him sick.
"We were all very moved, I think, when you volunteered for your sister at the Reaping," said Flickerman. "Did she come say goodbye to you?"
Prim shifted closer to Gale. He took both of her small hands in one of his.
"Yes, she did," said Katniss. The flush in her cheeks left over from the twirling faded fast.
"And what did you say to her in the end?" asked Flickerman.
There was a pause, only a few seconds long. In the pause, the real Katniss surfaced. Gale bent towards the television, drawn to the pain in her eyes, hating that he wasn't there to comfort her.
"I told her that I would try to win," said Katniss. "That I would try to win for her."
"Of course you did," said Flickerman kindly. "And try you will."
Mrs. Everdeen rose from her chair and slipped from the room, leaving him alone with Prim. Not try, thought Gale. You'll win. You have to. He wasn't thinking of Prim right then. He wanted Katniss to come home for his sake, so he could play with the end of her braid, hold her hand, spend the rest of his life with her.
Because without Katniss, there was no future for him.
The Capitolites went quiet for the Girl on Fire's interview. As Katniss left the stage, Madge wiped away the tear escaping down her cheek, before any of her guests saw. She felt so lost, so hopelessly alone. There was only so much she could do for Katniss from a thousand miles away. It wasn't enough. The distance between them had never felt greater.
When she looked back to the television, Peeta was halfway through his interview. He was at ease, every move he made genuine to a fault. He was as opposite Katniss in demeanor as appearance. It seemed that he and Flickerman had known each other a lifetime, rather than a mere ten minutes.
"So Peeta, tell me, is there a special girl back home?" asked Flickerman.
"No, no. Not really," said Peeta, breaking eye contact for the first time since the interview began.
"I don't believe it for a second," said Flickerman.
"Neither do I," giggled Twyla. She cast a sly glance at Madge. "Do you know him too, dear?"
Madge shook her head.
"Well, there, uh, there is this one girl that I've had a crush on for forever," said Peeta. Despite herself, Madge was curious. Was it Delly? She hoped not, for Delly's sake. "But I don't think she actually recognized me until the Reaping," Peeta went on. It wasn't Delly, then.
"I'll tell you what, Peeta," said Flickerman. "You go out there and win this thing, and when you get home, she'll have to go out with you. Right folks?"
The audience roared their approval. Peeta waited for them to settle with a patient smile. Suddenly, Madge couldn't look at him. Whoever he had a crush on, it didn't matter. He was going to die. He had to.
"Thanks," said Peeta, as if he truly meant it. "But I don't think winning is going to help me at all."
"And why not?" said Flickerman.
"Because she came here with me."
Madge's head snapped up. Her jaw dropped.
"Oh no!" cried Twyla, clasping her hands over her heart. She sounded genuinely stricken by Peeta's confession. The other Capitolites all looked horrified and heartbroken. Madge only had eyes for Peeta Mellark, though. She saw him as she never had before. He wasn't a victim. He wasn't the enemy. He was an ally.
Madge wasn't there to play the game for Katniss, but there was someone with her who knew exactly how to put all the odds in her favor.
It was only mid-morning and Gale was already sweating through his shirt. The sun rose in his eyes. He had to squint to see the stage, where the Mellarks and Everdeens sat. He hadn't been honored with an invitation to sit with them. Though he wanted to be up there for Prim's sake, it was a relief to be just another face in the crowd, to be with his family. His mother stood close to him, their arms pressed together, and he leaned into her just a little. Vick and Rory were on his other side. Posy was too young for the Bloodbath. Gale envied her.
All night he'd agonized over Peeta Mellark's nationwide declaration of love. He went back and forth from rage, to regret, to bewilderment, then back to rage. Over and over and over again. Come morning, he set it all aside. Peeta wasn't likely to survive the Bloodbath. There was no point in wasting energy being jealous of a boy about to die.
Mayor Undersee took to the podium and recited the Treaty of Peace. Gale listened hard, hoping the words would fuel his anger as they usually did. It was his hatred of the Capitol that had kept him standing since his father's death. This time, though, it wasn't quite enough.
Mayor Undersee took his seat next to Madge and the black screen behind them filled with color. The camera panned over a canopy of green treetops, giving them their first glimpse into the arena. Gale felt fear as he'd never known before.
There wasn't much of the arena to be seen through the dense treetops. Soon the forest opened up to a large clearing with twenty-four empty platforms ringing the edge and a gleaming, metal cornucopia in the dead center.
"Your tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games," announced Claudius Templesmith as the platforms slid open and the tributes rose from the ground. Madge held her breath, scanning faces for Katniss, hoping not to find her, hoping this was all a dream and Katniss was safe at home.
But then the camera circled to Katniss, paused for a second, and moved on to the little girl from Eleven, then the curly haired boy from Four. Claudius Templesmith was counting down. TEN. NINE. EIGHT. The boy from Six nearly fell off of his platform, regaining his balance at the last second. SEVEN. SIX. A sheen of sweat broke out across the girl from Eleven's smooth, dark brow. FIVE. FOUR. The Careers prepared to run. Three. There was Katniss again, her eyes fixed on the cornucopia. TWO. Across the clearing, Peeta shook his head in silent warning.
ONE!
Katniss leapt from the platform and sprinted for the cornucopia. Madge bit through her lip to keep from crying out aloud. In her head, she was screaming NO! Get out, just get out! Then Katniss was gone. The camera zoomed to Peeta darting under the cover of the woods, then to the girl from Nine being strangled by the boy from Three, to both tributes from Eight sprawled together, their blood soaking the grass, their eyes wide open and empty.
Image after image flashed across the screen. Screams tore through the speakers. Madge forgot to look for Katniss. There was too much she didn't want to see. The red of blood so vibrant against the grass, she could almost smell it, taste it. Her certainty took flight. How could Katniss possibly survive this. How could anyone?
The girl from Three, her leg cut clean off below the knee, tried to crawl away from the sickle-wielding boy from Five. When the boy from Eleven slashed open the boy from Seven's throat, blood splattered the camera lens. Then there was Katniss, on the ground, scrambling backwards from the boy from Nine, approaching with an axe raised above his head.
On stage, Prim hid her face in her hands. Gale longed to do the same, but he had to watch. It happened so fast. Mid-swing, the boy from Nine fell to his knees, a knife buried hilt-deep in his spine. Before his body hit the ground, Katniss was on her feet and running from the dark-haired girl from Two.
Madge saw the knife leave Clove's hand, saw it fly straight for the back of Katniss' head. Without thinking, she sprung to her feet, as if she could shield her friend. She didn't hear her father call out her name. Blood pounded in her ears, her heart thundered in her chest. The stage rolled under her feet. Too late, she realized she was still holding her breath.
Katniss lifted the orange backpack to cover herself just in time. "Thanks for the knife," she called over her shoulder, running hard for the treeline. Come on, come on, thought Gale. If she made it out of the clearing…
"What's she doing?" asked Rory.
"Getting the hell out of there," said Gale. That much was obvious.
"Not Katniss," said Rory. "Her."
The camera left Katniss just as she neared the forest. Gale didn't care about any of the other tributes, so he stole a quick glance at his brother and found him looking not at the screen, but at the stage below. He followed Rory's gaze to Madge Undersee, just before she fainted.
Madge woke in her own bed with a head full of fog. Snippets of the Bloodbath resurfaced and her stomach clenched like she was falling, like she was going to be sick. She rolled onto her side. Someone had left a bucket by the bed. Her vomit struck the plastic bottom with a watery splat. When she heard the door open, she didn't bother to move, leaving her throbbing head hanging limp over the bucket.
"Madgie?" Her father's gentle whisper reverberated against her skull like canon boom. She winced as he lifted her sore head back onto the pillow. His face loomed over her, his glasses glinting in the dim lamplight. Then her vision was drawn inward, to the Bloodbath. To Katniss scrambling backwards from a falling axe. To a knife cutting through the air.
"Katniss," she muttered, the name breaking through the fog. She honed in on her father's tired face, searching it for answers.
"She's fine," he said. Madge didn't feel relief, only nausea. Her father held back her hair as she heaved into the bucket again. By the time she finished, she was crying so hard she could barely breathe. Tears of joy, disbelief, and pain. Her father held her close for a minute, rocking her like a child. His effort to sooth her only made the tears fall faster. She couldn't remember the last time he'd held her like this. When he pulled away, too soon, she curled her fingers in his silk vest.
"You hit your head pretty hard," he said, wiping flecks of vomit from her chin with his handkerchief. "The medic says you most likely have a concussion."
Madge couldn't grasp what he was saying. She saw his lips move, but it was like she was underwater, everything blurred and muffled. She whimpered in protest when he uncurled her fingers from his vest and tucked her arms under the blanket.
"You need rest," he said.
"But Katniss-"
"I'll wake you if anything happens," he promised. "She's safe for now."
For now, Madge thought, her heavy eyelids drooping. She didn't want to close them, afraid of sleeping, of dreaming, of never waking, like all those children slaughtered in the Bloodbath. This year, it was all so much more real than ever before. She felt the weight of each snuffed out life.
"Stay with me, please," she said, trying to catch her father's hand, but her arms were like led, too heavy to lift.
"The interview crew leaves in the morning. I need to make sure everything's ready for them," said Mayor Undersee. He pressed a quick kiss to her brow. "If you need anything, the maid's just outside."
Then he was gone. Just like that. Just like everyone.
Prim was unusually silent on the walk home from school. Gale took short steps to match her pace. Up ahead, Rory and Vick were arguing about something. They were always bickering. For once, wrapped up in memories of yesterday's Bloodbath, Gale didn't intervene. They could hash it out for themselves this time.
Every couple of minutes, he glanced at Prim. There was a faint crease between her pale eyebrows. "What are you thinking about so hard?" he finally asked.
"Nothing," she said.
"You can tell me," he pressed her. "You can tell me anything."
The crease between her brows deepened. She kept her eyes fixed on Rory and Vick.
"If it's about Katniss, she's alri-"
"Do you think he really loves her?" blurted Prim. Gale froze, momentarily stunned.
"Who?" he asked, though he already knew.
"Peeta," said Prim. "Do you think he meant what he said in his interview?"
"I don't know," muttered Gale. Peeta survived the Bloodbath. He'd fled to the woods, like a coward, abandoning Katniss. Something Gale never would have done. They were close to the Everdeen's house. Rory and Vick turned in the opposite direction.
"It doesn't matter, anyway," continued Gale. "The arena's no place for romance."
"I know," said Prim, raising her clear blue eyes to his. "It's just, if he really does love her, he'll protect her, right?"
"Yeah," said Gale, ruffling her hair. "If he loves her, he will." But Peeta didn't love Katniss. Not really. If he did, he wouldn't have left her. "But Katniss can protect herself," he added firmly.
"I know," repeated Prim. "I'd feel better, though, if she had someone with her. I worry…" She trailed off, her lips pursed, her hands bunched in the folds of her skirt.
"Go on," said Gale.
"It's stupid."
"Nothing you say is stupid."
Prim filled her cheeks with air and blew it out in one breath. "I think she needs a friend. I'm worried if she doesn't have one, she'll forget who she is. The arena changes people. Mom says Haymitch Abernathy used to smile all the time."
Gale stopped walking again. He crouched to eye level with Prim and rested both hands on her shoulders. "She won't change," he said. "Listen to me, Prim. Katniss is coming home and everything will go back to the way it was."
Prim's frown remained. She shook off his hands. "No," she said. "It won't be the same."
Before he could respond, she hurried on. Gale rose from his crouch. He wanted to tell Prim that she was wrong, but couldn't, because she wasn't. She was braver than him. She accepted the truth, whereas he fled from it.
Gale caught up to her. Neither of them spoke again. He didn't want to think about how the Games would change Katniss.
Mrs. Everdeen was waiting for them on the porch. "How was school?" she asked.
"Fine," muttered Prim, brushing past her and disappearing into the house. Gale expected Mrs. Everdeen to follow her, but she lingered, letting out a heavy sigh and leaning against the doorframe.
"Thank you for walking her home," she said.
Gale scraped the toe of his boot over the hard-packed earth. "No problem," he said, uncomfortable with the clarity in her eyes and voice. It wasn't something he was used to from her. "I should get home," he said after another minute.
"Wait," said Mrs. Everdeen, drawing a brown paper package from her apron. She held it tightly between her hands and her eyes travelled to a far away place. He wondered what she was thinking. Suddenly, her eyes snapped back to him.
"Could you take this Madge Undersee?" she asked, holding out the package. "I'd go myself, but…" But she hadn't been to Town in years. "It's a tea blend," she said quickly. "To help her sleep."
Gale didn't reach for the package. His first instinct was to refuse. No way was he going to walk all of the way back into Town, just so Madge Undersee could get a good night's rest. Then he remembered the look on her face right before she'd fainted yesterday. He remembered her nightmares of being mauled by giant dogs.
"Yeah, alright," he said, taking the package and shoving it into his pocket.
"Tell her…" Mrs. Everdeen trailed off again. Her struggle to find the right words was apparent in the tense creases around her mouth. "Tell her thanks for giving Katniss the mockingjay pin. I know what it means." She retreated into the house faster than Gale had ever seen her move, not giving him the chance to ask what he wanted.
What does it mean?
Madge stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at the insurmountable challenge before her. She weighed her options- go back to bed and wait for the maid to return from shopping or risk breaking her neck for a glass of water? She was so thirsty, her mouth dry as sandpaper. Leaning against the wall for support, she began her slow descent, putting both feet on each step before moving to the next. By the time she reached the bottom, she was gasping for air, and had to sit on the last step , cradling her head until the pain ebbed.
Conquered by a flight of stairs, she thought miserably. Katniss escapes the Bloodbath unscathed and I get a concussion just watching. Madge was frustrated by her own fragility. At the very least, she would get her own glass of water. Grinding her teeth, she pressed on into the kitchen. As soon as she crossed the threshold, someone banged on the back door. Each knock sent a stab of pain through her tender skull.
She scurried across the kitchen and threw open the door, so eager to stop the knocking, she forgot she wasn't dressed.
Gale's fist hung in the air mid-knock. He hadn't expected Madge to answer the door. He certainly hadn't expected her to be wearing a flimsy, white nightgown. His eyes travelled over her hair, tangled and tousled, to the strap of the nightgown sliding over her shoulder, to the curve of her hips, just visible under the wispy fabric. The hem of her nightgown stopped mid-thigh. He'd never seen her anything that didn't cover her knees.
"What do you want?" she snapped. Gale brought his eyes to her face, hoping she hadn't noticed their momentary wandering. She crossed her arms over her chest, a red flush creeping up from the neckline of the nightgown to the roots of her hair.
"Mrs. Everdeen wanted me to give you this," he said, thrusting the brown paper package at her. "It's to put in your tea, to help you sleep, or whatever."
"Oh," said Madge, holding the package like she thought it might bite her. "I don't have any money on me, but I can-"
"She doesn't want your money," said Gale.
"Well, I should pay you, at least. For the delivery."
"I don't want your money, either, Undersee."
They fell silent. Madge was too aware of her indecent dress, of the way Gale Hawthorne's eyes kept flickering downward. She hugged her chest tighter, waiting for him to leave. He didn't want her money, so what did he want?
Just as she opened her mouth to say thanks, well, goodbye, he finally spoke, "She says thanks for giving Katniss that pin. That she knows what it means."
Madge gripped the little package. The paper crinkled under her fingertips. She hadn't considered that Mrs. Everdeen might recognize the mockingjay pin after all these years.
"So, what does it mean?" asked Gale.
"Nothing," said Madge, too quickly. Her head hurt too much to lie convincingly. Gale narrowed his eyes, so she added, "It really is nothing."
"But-"
"But nothing!" She held onto the doorframe as another dizzy spell hit. She couldn't have this conversation, not now.
Madge closed her eyes and he thought she might faint again. He reached out to steady her, just in case, but then her eyelids flew open, and his hand dropped. She tucked her hair behind her ears and he caught a glimpse of the deep blue bruise blooming across her temple.
"How's your head?" he asked.
"Fine," she said, beginning to retreat. "Thanks for bringing…" She held up the package. Gale threw his hand against the door to keep her from closing it on him. He needed to know about the pin. What did it mean?
"Just let it go," said Madge. Her desperate, pleading voice made him uncomfortable. "You've got your secrets. I've got mine. Fair enough?"
"Nothing's fair," he said, but he let go of the door and took a step back. "See you around, Undersee." He meant to find out what she was hiding. Not now, but soon.
Madge didn't close the door until he disappeared around the corner. Her thirst forgotten, she returned to her room, where she meant to stay for the rest of her life. A second after she crawled into bed, she heard her mother's bell, but she ignored it. You can wait for the maid, she thought, knowing already she'd regret this moment of vindictiveness.
Gale Hawthorne was right. Nothing was fair.
