Chapter 3 - Reaping

My mother lays out one of her own lovely blue dresses for me to wear to the Reaping — the most emotional gesture I have received from her since my father died. Perhaps it is because both of her daughters could be Reaped this year, or perhaps it is because she understands that — unlike previous years — I could lose somebody else in this Hunger Games, not just myself.

She carefully smooths out any wrinkles and sets out a pair of her leather shoes that she brought with her from town when she married my father. The gesture is the most that she can muster, and it takes all I have to allow myself to accept this small gift from my mother, to allow myself to be taken care of.

Clean and dressed, my mother, Prim and I make our way solemnly towards Town Center. Our neighbors, who typically greet each other joyfully are grim faced. As we near Town Center we merge with Gale's family. He and his brother Rory are up for the Reaping this year. He and I make eye contact and nod solemnly at each other. As we neared the crowd, I see Gale scanned the crowd for Madge. My mother goes to stand with the other adults, and I drop Prim off with the other girls her age.

Atop a stage the district has built just for this event stands and ornately dressed woman in a bleach blonde wig — Effie Trinket, our assigned Capitol Chaperone. In other districts all of the remaining victors from that district will also attend the reaping. But here in District 12 we only have one victor: an alcoholic in town, named Haymitch Abernathy. While the Reaping is no laughing matter, Haymitch has been known to be the main character in mishaps that are funny as long as you don't let them be sad. One year, Haymitch tripped over a microphone chord, tumbling he and Effie Trinket both to the ground, where he landed with his face squarely in her ample bosom. Another year, Haymitch was so drunk that he tumbled forward off the stage, and was — mostly — caught by three merchant boys. As Haymitch mounts the stage today, staggering some, he gives Effie Trinket a wink, who turns away, blushing beneath her thick makeup.

Peace Keepers make their way around the perimeter and settle into their places. Effie steps up to the microphone and clears her throat.

"Welcome, welcome to the 74th Hunger Games!" she pipes in a plummy tone. She beams at us, unfazed by our lack of enthusiasm. She directs our attention to the video screens, which begin the long explanation of the origin of the Hunger Games we must bear through each year. I find Gale in the crowd and we roll our eyes at each other, then I find Prim and give her a smile and a wink. As the video comes to an end, I feel my anxiety mounting. Anyone but Prim, I think.

Effie steps up to the microphone again, "Now it is time to select our tributes! And as always, ladies first." She sashays over to the bowl containing each girl over 12's name. Some — like me — have our names entered multiple times, so the odds are certainly not in our favor. Effie stirs the paper slips with long hot pink nails. She snags one and brandishes it aloft as she returns to the microphone. Everyone holds their breath. Effie daintily clears her throat and waggles her eyebrows excitedly at the audience.

"The female tribute from District Twelve is," Effie pauses to unfold the slip of paper, "Madge Undersee!"

People around me gasp and rustle as they look around for Madge. No one ever hopes that their child will be called to the arena, but the children of the Seam grow up without hopeful expectations. Being called to the arena is barely a surprise for people whose lives are already too hungry. But Madge…golden kind Madge, the Mayor's daughter with her sweet pigtails being called to the arena is as close to surprise as it can get.

As Madge, wide-eyed makes her way to the stage, my conversation with Gale comes rushing back to me.

"Katniss…" he begins. "Madge is pregnant."

I drop my hands from him and step back, taking in this information. It was not the reaction from the person I had just kissed.

"She's pregnant? For real?"

Gale nods. He looks…hopeless.

"What are you going to do?"

He shrugs, frowns. "Take care of us."

I nod, and we're silent for a while as we continue up the trail.

"I'll help." I say as we near a tree where a snare has snapped up a rabbit, "we can do this."

Chin trembling, Madge slowly weaves through the crowd of girls to the pathway separating us from the boys. I am paralyzed, eyes fixed on a golden strand of hair at the nape of her neck that has escaped her tidy bun. The audience is silent. Some stare at their feet, while others crane their necks to see the mayor's daughter, called to the gallows. As Madge passes Gale he reaches out his hand from this side, and their fingers brush. Madge does not look up. This small gesture snaps me to attention.

Before I can second-guess my decision, I begin to push through the crowd towards Madge.

"I volunteer!" I shout. "I volunteer as tribute!"

All eyes are on me as I stumble into the pathway behind Madge. I trip and fall to my knees on the gravel. I make eye contact with Madge, whose expression belies confusion, hope, and determination all at once. She comes forward to help me up, but before she reaches me, I hear the crunch of boots behind me. Her eyes go wide, and I feel arms reach beneath my arms and yank me up until I am standing. Madge melts back into the crowd, and I am shoved forwards toward the stage.

I steel my gaze on Effie, and force air in and out of my lungs as I ascend the stairs to the stage. Effie totters forward in her platform heels and gathers me into an awkward embrace. In her heels, she is just my height, and her expansive wig smushes into my face momentarily before she releases me. She guides me to stand on the right side of the stage, beside Haymitch Abernathy, the only living District Twelve champion, and Mayor Undersee, who gives me a grateful nod. I turn to look out over the crowd. I allow myself to briefly search for Prim, my mother, and Gale. Their faces bely the same expression: horrified, though Gale also seems relieved.

Effie returns to the bowl of boys' names. As she stirs the paper slips, I am struck by the possibility that Gale's name could be drawn, and then no one will be left to take care of Madge and my family. Afterall, who in their right mind would volunteer to take someone's place in the Hunger Games? Effie extracts a slip with a flourish of her hand. My eyes are locked on my shoes. Despite the effort my mother put into shining them, you can still see where the leather is worn thin. As Effie announces shrilly that, "Peeta Mellark is the second District Twelve tribute!" my eyes leave my shoes to find Peeta, shocked, making his way down the gravel path toward the stage. He stoically endures Effie's embrace and is guided to stand beside me. We make eye contact briefly, and despite the reality of the moment, I am tempted to smile at him. Instead, when he nods at me, I frown in return.

He is as lovely as my subconsciousness's version of him and cleaner than when we encountered each other yesterday. He is dressed in a cotton button-down shirt that is just too short on his arms, and his green bandana is tied tidily around his neck. Although there is no flour on his cheekbone today, he still smells faintly of the bakery. I steal another glance at him and see a sandy curl tumble gently into his eyes as he turns his gaze to his own shoes.

The remainder of the Reaping Ceremony spins by in a blur of Effie's shrill voice echoing about the town center. As she wraps up the event, the reality of what I have done begins to sink in. I know I could not have let Madge get taken into the arena, but I can't help but realize that I may have sentenced myself to death. I must have started shaking, because Peeta reaches over and takes my hand and squeezes it. We share a look of fearful understanding. He doesn't let go of my hand as the ceremony ends and we are escorted by Peacekeepers into the District Twelve government building that serves as our courthouse and government offices.

Various family members and friends are allowed to visit briefly with us. I am embraced more times in the next fifteen minutes than all of the times before combined. I am not sure how to navigate everyone else's sadness and fear at the same time as I navigate my own. So I make promises I cannot keep or ensure. My last visitor is Madge.

She steps hesitantly into the room, and a Peacekeeper tells us both that I have 2 minutes. As the door closes, she takes my hands and stares intently at me.

"Thank you, Katniss. I know I can never fully repay you for saving my life, but you have to take this." She presses something into my hand and closes my fingers around it. She leans forward to hug me. As she does, she whispers in my ear, "Keep the locket close. There's more to it than it seems, but you can't tell anyone. There's more to everything than it seems."

Before I can ask anything else, the Peacekeeper opens the door and informs us that time is up. Madge thanks me once more and hurries out the door. Without further instruction, The Peacekeeper takes me roughly by my elbow and guides me down the hall, where Peeta, Effie, and Haymitch wait. Together, we make our way out of the building to the train platform just beyond the town center. Effie titters on about what's to come, but I don't listen. Instead, I take the opportunity to look at the small locket necklace that Madge gave me. I don't have time to fully inspect now, so I wrap the delicate chain around my neck. I fumble with the clasp. I've never worn anything with such a delicate clasp before. My frustration begins to grow, and I frown accusingly at the necklace in my hands, studying the clasp.

"Can I help with that?" Peeta asks. His face is open. He gestures with his hands towards the necklace. After a moment's hesitation, I hand him the necklace and turn my back to him. I feel the heat of his body as he into me and reaches around to let the locket rest just below my clavicle. "Oh. This is pretty complicated, huh?" He murmurs as his fingers work to hook the clasp at my neck. His nearness has my body on high alert, and it takes conscious effort not to lean back into him to see if his chest feels as it did in my dream. Peeta's breath ghosts over my neck. "Oo-kay!" He says, as he successfully closes the clasp. His fingertips linger briefly at the nape of my neck, before he clears his throat and steps away.

I touch the locket, cold against my chest. I look up at him, "thank you. For the necklace. And for earlier."

He nods at me. "I guess we're kind of in this together."

Effie bounces on her toes and shades her eyes with her hand. "Here it comes!" she pipes. Though I've seen and heard the train pass through many times, I've never been a passenger. As the shaking of the tracks grows loud with the train's approach, I begin to wonder what it will be like.