Reaping day comes much too quickly. We pick aimlessly at our breakfast while the minutes tick by until we have to be out in the square. Eventually, my mom dresses Prim in last year's reaping outfit and braids her hair, finishing with a kiss on the top of her head. Prim's grown taller and more womanly this year, and the outfit fits much better. She doesn't look like my little duck any more. There will be only 77 children in the reaping pool today. Two of them will have their names called, and will most likely die within the next week. I hold back a sob as we walk to the reaping area, hugging her tightly when we break off so she can stand in the pens.
The roped off areas are smaller this year, meant to house only a fraction of the usual crowd. Prim signs in, and joins her friends on the girls' side, clinging tightly to two blonde girls from her class. My mom and I watch from the back, slightly behind the boys' area. My mom keeps twisting and untwisting her apron repeatedly, making me even more nervous. Gale walks up beside me, followed by Hazelle, Vick and Posy. Vick looks terrified, and Posy has been crying.
"They're not doing well." Gale whispers to me. "They're sure he's getting reaped today."
He doesn't look very confident himself. I grab his hand without thinking and squeeze. He squeezes back, and I consider for a second pulling my hand away. But it steadies me a bit to have him there, and I lace my fingers through his as we wait. His callouses, thickened from the mines, rub against mine anchoring me to the moment.
Up on the stage, Peeta sits, looking worried and scared. Haymitch is next to him, obviously fall-down drunk. He sways as he lowers himself into his chair. The mayor looks annoyed, and Madge sits next to him, where her mother would sit if she weren't so ill. Effie, her wig a big blue mess of curls, steps up to the microphone. "Welcome to the 75th Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
As she drones on about this year's games (and the excitement of having the reigning victor) I watch my sister. She and Rory share a look, and she's pale. I tighten my grip on Gale's hand, and he covers my hand with both his big ones. "They'll be OK, Catnip" he whispers.
"Ladies first!" Effie is much too excited about this. "This year's female tribute will be..." Her fingers reach into the bowl, snagging a slip from the small pile.
Not Prim, not Prim, not Prim...
"...Lark Tanner!"
A dark-haired girl from the Community Home stumbles toward the stage, openly crying. I have a feeling that tonight's recap will involve a lot of tears. She's just a child. They all are. Lark is small, and her ill-fitting brown dress clings to the wrong parts of her body. Her face is slightly gaunt, belying the official policy that community home kids are well-cared for. She wipes her eyes on her sleeve as she looks out at the district.
I let go of a breath that I didn't know I was holding and close my eyes. Prim is safe. But Gale's hand clutches desperately at mine as Effie reaches for the boys' bowl. I close my eyes again as she grabs a paper and unfolds it. Not Rory, not Rory, not Rory, I chant in my head.
And that's when the world comes crashing down.
"Rory Hawthorne!"
My stomach lurches and I fight the urge to dash out of the square and into the woods.
Gale stiffens next to me, and I notice the vein in his neck budging the way it does when he's angry. My ears begin ringing. On Gale's other side Hazelle's face is blank, and she bends to comfort Posy, who is screaming. Vick starts running toward Rory's place in the corrals, but Hazelle manages to grab his shirt and pull him back.
Rory is frozen in place while all the other 13s stare at him. He takes a deep breath, shakes his head a bit, and walks purposefully up to the stage. As he turns to look at the crowd, I'm relieved to see no tears in his eyes, only a hard, angry stare. His neck vein is bulging as well.
Anger is better than panic, I reason with myself.
Gale begins squeezing my hand even harder, and I glance back up at his face, red with rage. I see the glint in his eyes. I recognize that look. It's usually saved for his rages in the woods against the Capitol. The rages where he says and does outrageous, treasonous things. Rages that, in this moment, would get him arrested or worse.
"Gale!" I hiss, under my breath, frantically looking toward Hazelle. She is kneeling on the ground, tears in her eyes, while Posy and Vick sob. "Gale! Not now." I rub the back of his wrist with my free hand.
He looks down at our hands and snaps out of his thoughts for a moment, then releases me, flexing his fingers. His face is a little less red, but his eyes are still wild. He opens and closes his mouth, and looks toward the stage. Effie is chirping cheerfully on, and Gale's feet shuffle on the ground as if he is going to run.
I yank his arm, bringing his ear down to my lips. "Not here. Not now. We can go to the woods after...we have to go coach him. He can come home."
He clenches his jaw and nods, grabbing my hand again. I'm blinking back tears, but I make my face blank and emotionless in preparation for what's to come. They finish up onstage and I block out the sounds Effie calling for volunteers (ha!) and the reading of the Treaty of Treason. Peeta has stepped forward to comfort Lark as she cries. Peacekeepers lead the tributes into the justice building and Haymitch stumbles forward, knocking the boys' reaping bowl off of its stand, scattering papers everywhere as he staggers into the building.
Gale bends down to pick up Posy, putting a comforting arm on his mom's shoulder. She straightens up and breathes deeply, one arm around Vick.
"We should go say goodbye." She wears a mask I know all too well. Gale nods. We trudge wordlessly toward the justice building.
As we approach, Prim runs up, sobbing loudly as she throws her arms around me. My mom follows, clearly fighting back tears. I grab my sister's shoulders. "Prim! Look at me. You have to calm down. Don't make this worse. We can get him home. He can shoot. He's fast. He can wrestle. But you have to calm down. We can't upset him." She nods and wipes her eyes on her shirt. My mom shoots me a grateful look.
Gale whispers, "let my mom and the kids have longer chunk of time for the family that comes last. Send Prim in first so we can figure out what to tell him." He signs us in, and Darius and Cray usher Prim into the ornate sitting room.
We sit along the wall on the marble floor. My mom has walked Hazelle and the kids down the hall, muttering comforting words. Gale turns his to me and whispers, "how should he play it?"
I turn this question over in my head and keep my voice steady. "He's angry. He's big for his age. They're all 13 this year..." The horror of the situation hits me again, and I swallow hard. "He's not going to be able to fake a bad score or pretend he's weak. He's going to have to show them what he can do. He'll probably be seen as a threat, but it's his best bet. "
Gale nods. "Hopefully Peeta can teach him some interview skills, or he's going to yell and scream on stage and get himself killed by the Capitol instead of the other tributes. You know how good Peeta is with an audience. Maybe he can help him figure out what to do with Ceasar."
I leave out the fact that last year, I refused to watch the interviews and hid behind the Mayor's house.
"He needs to find a bow. Find water, try to outlast everyone he can. I think he can kill, if it comes down to it." Gale sighs and looks at me. "He's got a better shot than Prim would have."
I nod. There's no good response to that. We sit in silence as we wait for our turn. When Prim slips out of the room, her face is again streaked with tears. She runs into my mother's arms and they go out the front door of the Justice Building.
From down the hall, Darius calls Gale's name. We stand up and walk over to him. He glances back and forth between us and the sign in sheet. "Gale Hawthorne" he says, "brother. You have 15 minutes." I peek at the sheet and notice my name isn't there.
"Can't have you on their lists 2 years in a row, Catnip." The words are whispered close to my ear. I nod, grateful that Gale thought, in the middle of the reaping, about saving me. And I vow to give Darius an extra rabbit on Saturday
We open the doors to the sitting room, and find Rory, looking small and boyish in a stiff armchair. In the room behind him, there are broken vases and ripped curtains. I raise my eyebrows. His eyes are wet, but there's a spark of anger in his face. He looks at Gale. "What do I do, Gale?" His voice is pleading, but steady.
"You win." Gale has pulled up a chair next to Rory's and put an arm around his shoulder. He sounds more confident than I feel. "Here's how: You play it confident and tough. Show the gamemakers what you can do. Learn how to interview from that Mellark kid so they don't all know how pissed you are. It's all a big game, and you can play it. You'll get sponsors. You're big, you have skills. Get a bow from the cornucopia and get out of there. Find water and hunt for food. Wait for them all to kill each other. Come home."
Rory looks at me for confirmation. I nod. "That sounds right. You can do this Rory. You're a good shot, and smart."
"I have to kill people." Rory's face is ashen, as if the gravity of the situation has just sunk in.
"It's the only way home." Gale is looking him straight in the eyes.
We chat for a few more minutes about game plans, and Gale hugs him tightly. "You have to come home."
Rory gives me a tight hug as well. "Take care of Prim" he whispers.
"I promise."
Darius escorts us out of the room, and the door shuts behind us. Hazelle, Vick and Posy are ushered into the room and given half an hour. Gale looks ready to smash a vase himself, and we stand in the hallway unsure of what to do next.
Peeta slips out of another ornate room where Lark must be. He sees us and looks up and down the hall, confirming that it's empty. We follow him out the back door, and Gale and I sit on a low stone wall.
"I will bring him home." Peeta's eyes are intense and he paces as he talks. "I don't know how, but I'll do anything it takes."
"You'd better." Gale stands up, inches from Peeta's face. "If my brother doesn't make it home, I'll track you down, Mellark."
Peeta calmly stands his ground. "I'm a victor, Hawthorne. I killed 3 people. You don't scare me."
"No, you didn't kill anyone. They happened to die because of your actions, but you didn't kill anyone. Not really."
Peeta's hands are in fists at his side. I can tell where this is going. But Peeta closes his eyes and unclenches his hands. Gale's remain in fists, and I momentarily envision the story about him knocking out Nick Mellark.
"I promise you, on my life, that I will do anything I can to bring your brother home."
"How do we know you weren't telling Lark's people the exact same thing?" says Gale, challengingly.
Peeta sighs. "Lark has no people. I was visiting her because no one else did."
We fall silent, and my heart breaks for little Lark, who has no one in this world. Peeta continues, addressing only me. "I knew being a mentor would be terrible, but I never thought it would be a friend's brother. He has skills, right? I can get him sponsors? He can hunt and swim?"
When he says "friend's brother," I'm not sure if he's referring to Gale as a friend, or to Rory as my brother. Both confuse me equally.
I nod, a lump in my throat. "Just teach him to interview. He's too angry right now...he'll say something that will get him in trouble." Or all of us I think.
Gale ignores him entirely and sits back down, putting an arm around my shoulder. He breathes a few times, relaxes his muscles and quietly asks "is this my fault? For being friends with Haymitch and Madge?" Even out here, it seems as if someone will hear, but I know he means the rebellion.
Peeta leans close between us, as if to hug us both. "When Haymitch fell, he looked at the slips. This wasn't a fix. Just bad luck."
"You will bring him home." I'm not sure if Gale's words are a threat or a promise. Peeta looks at Gale's arm around my shoulder and nods.
"I promise." He pauses again. "Katniss? If something big happens on that screen...a spark...promise me you'll have a plan? To stay safe."
Then he walks back into the building.