Chapter 10
The cameras hold on Peeta's downcast face for a moment before they process what he meant and switch to a close-up of Katniss' shocked face. Judging by her expression, her mouth partially open in surprise, she didn't see this coming. Predictable- Katniss is completely clueless when it comes to boys. I could have told her that Peeta had a crush on her before they even left. Only she could have spent a week with him and not seen it. Speaking of which, how could she have not noticed how I felt over the last six months? She is so innocent and clueless when it comes to the effect she can have.
"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," Caesar says with what seems like genuine pain in his voice. The crowd in the Capitol is murmuring in agreement and a few give agonized cries. But, this is nothing compared to the outcry in Twelve, where I can hear some people behind me whimpering and sobbing. Katniss and Peeta are real people to us. They are friends. They are family. And, at least one of them is as good as dead.
"It's not good," Peeta agrees, his eyes focused intently on the floor. Then, you should have kept your mouth shut, Mellark, I fume.
Mr. Mellark has a sad smile on his face, but he looks unsurprised. I can't see Prim or Mrs. Everdeen's faces since I am behind them.
"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady," Caesar commiserates. "She didn't know?" All of the boys do. Fall for her. And, no, she didn't know. Until dummy opened his big mouth!
Peeta shakes his head. "Not until now."
The screen is now split, showing a close-up of each of them. Katniss has an unmistakable blush on her cheeks, but she is looking down, trying to disappear.
"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caesar asks the audience. He wouldn't do that to her, would he? The Capitol crowd is screaming for her to return. "Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours." Not mine. Mine is with Katniss. It is hers.
The roar of the crowd is deafening. Peeta has absolutely wiped the rest of the tributes off of the map with his declaration of love for her. When the audience finally settles down, he chokes out a quiet "Thank you" and returns to his seat next to Katniss. They don't acknowledge each other. As they stand for the anthem Katniss has to lift her head, so I can finally get a good look at her face. What is she thinking? What does the blush signify? Is she flattered? Confused? Embarrassed? Angry? Ah, all of the above, I see.
The tributes file off of the stage after the anthem ends and the commentators try to recap the interviews, but they are fascinated by Peeta's unprecedented declaration. I hear the term "star-crossed lovers of District Twelve" for the first time. They are not lovers, star-crossed or otherwise!
I am angry. Jealous. Why am I jealous? She didn't say she loved him, after all. I already knew he had a crush on her. Is it because this might give him an advantage over her in the arena? Make her more likely to trust him? Or, because the selfish kid burdened her with such information the night before they will be thrown into the arena? Or is it simpler? Am I jealous because he declared first? He will always be her first now! And, I might never get the chance? Even if I get the chance, will we always have the shadow of this dead, lovestruck baker boy haunting us?
We have been dismissed and yet I sit here, unable to move. Tonight might be the last night of her life. Tomorrow her last sunrise. I hear my mother shush Posy who is chirping she needs a red, glittery princess dress. She tells me they will see me at home as she shepherds them all off, and I am left sitting here in a rapidly emptying public square. My private square. Lost in my private thoughts. With my private love. Undeclared. Unspoken.
Oh, how I wish the electricity was off. I wish I could run into the woods and never return. But, I can't. Even if the electricity were off, I could never leave my family. I will never be able to leave this place. I am trapped. By the Capitol. By the Games. By the Peacekeepers. By the fence. By my responsibilities. By my love for my family.
I finally notice that Madge is sitting silently beside me, staring up at the stars; the few stars that are actually visible from the bright town square. The best place to view the stars is from the rise in the woods. Even the Meadow and the slag heap have much better views than here where there is too much ambient light. We are alone in the square, except for a few lingering Peacekeepers.
"Come on, I'll walk you home," I say as I get to my feet.
She laughs lightly, smiling at me. "You know my house is only a quarter mile across the square. I'll be in full view of the Peacekeepers until I get inside. You really don't have to walk me home," she says as we start off across the square towards her house.
She may be the Mayor's daughter, but I don't trust Peacekeepers at all. Not even to see she makes it safely across the square. "Well then, I guess you don't have to worry about me making any inappropriate advances when we get to your door."
Her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth parts slightly. Am I flirting with Madge? No, I am just teasing her like a friend. It is what friends do. Tease each other and watch out for each other. Walking her home is barely half a mile out of my way and it is dark outside. No one as pretty as Madge should be out alone at night. I find myself scowling.
"You shouldn't worry about what Peeta said," she breaks into my thoughts.
"He proclaimed his love for her on national television! The night before the arena!" I blurt out.
"Yes, but she didn't say she loved him. She looked so shocked. And you knew how he felt already, didn't you? I mean, he stares at her all the time. Well, quite often. It won't change how Katniss feels when she gets back."
"I guess I am just worried about how it will affect her in the arena," I admit.
"You're worried she won't be able to kill him, now? Or kill anybody?"
"I'm not sure she could have even before tonight. Him, I mean. But, I am confident she will be able to kill to defend herself. She might even be able to take out fierce opponents like the Careers and the boy from Eleven without provocation. But she won't be able to kill the weak, like little Rue and the crippled boy from Ten. And I don't think she will be able to kill him, either. Especially after tonight. She will probably feel obligated to ally with him. Protect him." I have a sudden leap of thought. "That is why he did it."
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"He did it to manipulate her into allying with him. He can only be a hindrance to her survival. He is too soft, having grown up in town. Too noisy. Too risky. She wouldn't have willingly taken him on. Now, she is going to have to feed him and protect him if he gets his way."
Madge scowls at me, probably not liking my condemnation of Townies. "Peeta certainly doesn't have her survival skills, but he is strong. And he is one of the smartest people I know."
I roll my eyes.
She continues, "He is also one of the sweetest. He has a pure heart. I can't see him using his feelings to try and manipulate her. Maybe he truly does love her and he figures this is his last chance to ever tell her how he feels," she defends him passionately.
"He doesn't even know her, Madge," I argue, thinking of last chances. Missed chances.
"We don't know that. I think he has had a crush on her for years! And, they have been together for the past week."
"You don't fall in love in a week," I declare, dismissing her romantic drivel. "Can you see this 'sweetest person you know' killing someone?" I challenge her.
"Maybe, if he is given no choice. Not her, though. But, there is no denying the odds are in her favor. The likelihood of it coming down to the two tributes from Twelve is not very probable," she says sadly. "I think he is too gentle. And too kind to survive in the arena for very long."
"Would you listen to us? " I ask, disgusted. "Here we are calmly discussing the probable death of our schoolmates. Actually rooting for Peeta to die? He is a good kid. He doesn't deserve to die," I throw my head back, looking towards the sky. A sky with no stars. The Capitol blocks out everything good.
She steps closer, wrapping her hands around my arm, stroking it soothingly. "I know," she chokes out fiercely.
We walk the rest of the way in silence. I open the gate for her, standing aside for her to walk through and closing it after she does. "Goodnight, Madge," I say sadly.
She turns towards me, "Thanks for walking me home. Try and get some sleep tonight."
I nod at her, but know I will not be sleeping this night. There is no possible way I could, knowing what tomorrow could bring. I watch her walk up the path to the porch, climb the steps and open the front door. She gives me a little wave before disappearing inside.
I turn around and stride purposefully towards home, planning what I will do tonight, since I know trying to sleep is pointless.
When I get home, I set about kindling a fire in the backyard smoker. When I have it started, I go into the root cellar and retrieve the meat that has been soaking and arrange it on the grates in the smoker. The meat will take twenty-four to thirty-six hours to smoke and it needs to be attended every few hours, so that will give me something constructive to do as I contemplate what tomorrow may bring.
What will the arena be like? Forest, desert, swamp, frozen wasteland? One year it was a giant shopping mall with mutation mannequins and a poisonous food court. It could be anything the Gamemakers can dream up. Please, let it be a forest. That would be a huge advantage for us, and we need every edge possible. I mean, Katniss does.
Is she able to sleep tonight? Tonight will be her last night, safe and comfortable in a bed. Tomorrow night she will be in the arena, hiding from mutts and bloodthirsty tributes. Or, hunting herself.
I find myself restlessly pacing the width of the backyard over and over again, wearing a path in the sparse, dry grass. Every four hours or so I rotate the meat and add wood to the fire to keep it at the right temperature.
With so much time to think tonight I find myself mulling over my new friendship with Madge. It causes me to reevaluate some of my long held beliefs regarding the residents of District Twelve.
First among those beliefs is the nature of the rigid divide between the Seam and the Townies. That the things that separate us go beyond the poverty and physical appearance. I have always believed that the Townies were unconcerned about the welfare of the people of the Seam. That they considered us as somehow less human. Less than them, at least. But in the few hours I have spent with Madge in the past week, I have come to realize that at least some of the Townies care. Mr. Mellark cares. Madge definitely cares. She has somehow managed to befriend me and provide some extra food for my family along the way. I still don't quite know how she manages to make me feel as if it is okay to take food and not owe her for it.
Second are my thoughts on the reaping. Because most of the kids in the Seam take out tesserae between the ages of twelve and eighteen the odds for most of us are roughly equivalent. Townie kids don't often take out tesserae and so I have always thought they were safe. That they were concerned for themselves when they weren't in any real danger compared to the kids in the Seam always seemed so self-centered to me. I never believed they were in any real danger, given the odds. The odds are ever in their favor. But, Peeta was chosen with only five slips. And, he is a merchant's son. There is no possible way the son of the district baker had ever taken out tesserae. Prim only had one slip. Madge's Townie aunt was reaped.
I conclude I have felt unfairly oppressed. Always assuming I would be reaped. My friends would be reaped. Never worrying over the merchant kids. Not even considering they, too, were justified to be worrying about themselves and their friends. Although tributes more often than not come from the Seam, none of my friends have ever been reaped. No one in my family has ever been reaped. If I want to be honest, I can't count Katniss since she volunteered for her sister who only had a single slip. More tributes come from the Seam, it is true, but we have a larger population than the Town, as well. I find it uncomfortable to admit to myself that I have been prejudiced against them. That the divide between us comes as much from our side as it does from theirs. Just the way the Capitol wants it. We've all been played.
We would be so much stronger if we worked together. Why do we divide ourselves? Because, the Capitol designs every aspect of our lives to make it impossible to work together against them.
By the time the sun breaks over the horizon, I have considered hundreds of scenarios about what the next few weeks will bring. What will Katniss face this day? Will she be killed? Will she become a killer? Is she sick with apprehension this morning as I am? She must be. I hope she knows I will always be here for her family. And for her.
Vick comes out to take over the fire. Boy, I need a break. My eyes are stinging and watering. All that smoke! Yes, it must be from all of the smoke.
Mom offers me breakfast, but food is the last thing I can stomach this morning. I look at the clock. It is eight. The Games start at ten Capitol time. That is noon in District Twelve, so we have four hours to wait. Katniss has four more hours. To wait. To live.
I splash cold water on my face. Shave. Wash up. Change into clean clothes. Check on Vick and the fire. Play with Posy in the backyard to get her out from under Mom's feet for a while. She is so excited to have everyone home today; or nearly everyone. Rory is at Prim's this morning. No school and no work for the opening day of the Hunger Games.
Exactly one week ago Katniss and I were sitting on our rock, eating our bread and cheese. Talking about running away. It seems a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. When we both had lifetimes. Time.
At eleven, I walk over to the Everdeen's, surprised to find Prim and Rory arguing in the front yard. Prim's face is red and her hands are balled up into little fists at her side.
I hear Rory, "That doesn't make any sense! She is protecting you, Prim."
"No, she isn't!" Prim denies hotly, in full little-girl fury. I almost back away.
I step through the gate, "What's wrong?" I ask calmly, hoping to diffuse the situation. Today is going to be hard enough without Prim, who is normally so sweet and even tempered, going off the rails before the Games even begin. I glare at Rory.
He gives me an exasperated look, "Prim is mad at Katniss for volunteering."
"Prim?" I ask gently.
"She left me all alone with our mother! She promised me she would never leave me," Prim cries.
I'm not sure I am equipped to deal with an irrational twelve-year-old girl this morning, but I see I don't have any choice. "Rory is right. You know he is, Prim. Katniss' only thought at the reaping was to protect you. That is all she cares about. Protecting you," I say in my gentlest voice; the one I use to soothe Posy when she has a nightmare.
"No! I need her here! Mom needs her here. Mom is going to go away again! And not come back. I wish she hadn't volunteered! She should have let me go! It should be me," Prim sinks to the ground, dissolving into hopeless sobbing.
Rory drops to his knees, gathering Prim into his arms and patting her awkwardly on the back. He looks up at me with a pleading expression. What does he expect me to do? I tried and now she's deteriorated from angry ranting to hysterical sobbing. So much for my legendary ability to charm girls.
I rub my hands over my face, thinking. I have to reassure Prim. What would Katniss do if she were here? Well, this wouldn't be happening if Katniss were here. "Prim, we are going to be all right. All of us. You know Katniss has a real chance of winning this. She knows that she has a real chance, a much better chance than you. If she hadn't volunteered for you, she would never have recovered. Losing you would have taken away her reason for living. You need to be strong for her. For your mother. Lean on us. We will get through this together. I promise."
Prim looks up at me, "What if she doesn't come home, Gale? How could I live with myself?" she asks, barely audible.
I can't promise her that Katniss will come home. Even if I did, it wouldn't help. What an awful mess. I clear my throat, which is suddenly feeling clogged. "We'll get through it together. Whatever happens, this is not your fault. Remember that. Where's your mom?"
"On Katniss' bed," Prim sniffs, recovering a bit of her composure.
On Katniss' bed instead of being brave for Prim. Typical. "You go with Rory. I'll get her and we'll be there before noon. Rory, check on Vick when you get home. The fire probably needs more wood. Green wood. Not too much. Just enough to keep it hot and smoking."
Rory pulls Prim to her feet, "Will do," he says smartly as they head off down the cinder road.
I brace myself before entering the house. This is exactly what Katniss feared the most when she left. Not her own death. But that her mother would check out, leaving Prim alone. She trusted me to take care of her family. Because she knew she couldn't trust her mother.
Walking into the bedroom I am relieved to see Mrs. Everdeen is dressed and lying on top of the bedcovers, hugging a pillow. She isn't asleep. Also good. "Mrs. Everdeen?" I say, hopefully. "It's time to go. Prim already went ahead with Rory."
"I don't know if I can do this," she whispers.
She is responsive. A very good sign. I sit on the bed next to her, "We'll get through this together. I will make sure you have enough food. If you need help around the house, whatever you need, you just have to let me know. But, you have to be strong. For Prim."
"I can't lose Katniss. She is all I have left of him," she whispers brokenly.
"You have two daughters. Prim is here and she needs you to be strong. Now. Here." I remind her.
She looks up at me, scared. "Katniss is the strong one. She has so much of her father in her. Katniss is her father's daughter. Prim is…Prim is like me."
I help her into a sitting position. "Then, we will keep each other strong. Katniss is a survivor. We have to trust in her."
She nods her head and stands up as if she's made a decision. "I'm ready," she says shakily.
As we head out the door, I am relieved. That could have gone much worse. I think today will be the hardest day. Until the last day.
We arrive at our house at a quarter 'til noon. It is 9:45 in Capitol. Fifteen minutes until launch time. Katniss must already be in the catacombs beneath the arena. The stockyard, we call it in the districts; the place where animals wait for the slaughter. Their slaughter. Like lambs to the slaughter. What is she doing right now? What is she thinking?
My chest is tight. The nervousness I have felt for the last week is threatening to swell into terror. Katniss could be dead in a matter of… minutes! And, I can do nothing. I pace around our small living room like a caged tiger as noon approaches. Everyone else is sitting quietly before the dark TV. Like lambs watching the slaughter.
My mom, Mrs. Everdeen, Prim and Rory fill up the couch. Posy plays with her doll at their feet. Vick sits nervously fiddling with his notebook on the floor in front of our father's chair, where I will spend most of the Games.
The TV comes to life, the cheery voices of the announcers that follow the anthem are a jarring contrast to our anguished silence. I carefully take my seat as they inform us that all of the tributes are in their Launch Rooms. It is therefore time to unveil the Arena of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. They keep it a closely guarded secret until there is no possible way the tributes can hear any details before the launch.
We suddenly seem to be flying over a huge grain field of some kind. I don't see any trees; just miles and miles of waving grain. I close my eyes briefly, my mouth in a hard line. When I open them again we are pulling up and I see water. Soon I can see it is a lake. As the hovercraft rises I can see the huge, gold Cornucopia gleaming in the morning sun on a large area of packed earth. Seeing the Cornucopia somehow makes the reality of what is about to happen piercingly clear. Then I see them. The trees. A whole forest of pine trees surrounds half of the arena on the opposite side of the Cornucopia from the grain field. I can suddenly breathe again at the sight of the trees. Tall, beautiful, green trees. A great place for her to hide. Our kind of place. To hunt. To survive. She will be in her element. Our element. Without me. If only she doesn't have a millstone around her neck. A millstone named Peeta Mellark.
Suddenly, the camera swings back to the Cornucopia. I glance at the clock. Noon. The tributes are rising out of the ground in a circle surrounding the Cornucopia. Blood rushes in my ears. I hear my heart pounding. The camera sweeps across the faces of the children who are about to face their mortality at the hands of other children. An arena of death. Full of evil surprises. Evil.
My breath catches as I get a glimpse of Katniss. Madge's golden pin glints in the harsh sunlight as Katniss squints to adjust to the bright arena from the dark catacombs below. I barely have time to process the fact that Madge must have given it to her when she went to say goodbye as I try and take in every detail of the launch.
Suddenly, the well-known voice of the legendary Hunger Games announcer, Claudius Templesmith, calls out, "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"
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Author's Note
Special thanks to Ellenka, MUSICFOODANDFLORAL, Kerinh22, ParanormalAngel, Aninha Flavia, Animic, God1801, DirtyAngelToes, JessPuggyand greenrose15 for reviewing multiple chapters of this story! You have no idea how much it means to me for you to take the time to continually let me know what you think!
And to the new reviewers for the last chapter: Aella Leto, xxAlizza and Ccmeu, welcome and I hope you enjoy this newest chapter.
And finally! Let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin! (Well, in the next chapter, anyway.)
Please review!