Chapter Three/Gale's POV
Katniss… She's going to be gone. That's all I can think of.
Prim's screams break me out of my paralysis. Not the confusion on the stage, or Effie Trinket's unclear words, or the mayor's. Prim. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" she screams hysterically. Katniss tells her to let go, fighting back tears, I can tell. I hurry forward and peel Prim off of her, ignoring her screams and thrashes.
"Up you go, Catnip," I say in a wavering voice. Katniss nods and goes up the stage, stands next to Effie.
Effie says something, but I've stopped listening. I carry Prim back. Her screams have quieted to shaking sobs, and her thrashes have become weaker. Her mother takes Prim in her arms, cradles her. "I have to go back," I whisper. "Thank you, Gale," their mother whispers back. I duck my head and go back to my spot.
For some reason, Effie moves back to the girls' ball, taking the microphone with her. "Well, I suppose the mayor forgot to tell you. But President Snow has given the districts a special order; instead of the usual two tributes from each district, there will be four! Isn't that exciting!"
Not one person makes a sound. Effie clears her throat, obviously affronted. "Well, all right then. Let's just pick the other girl, shall we?" She reaches deep into the bowl again and pulls out another name, not bothering to go back to the podium, and reads, "Lucy Graffeta." Lucy is an eighteen-year-old in my grade. She's vicious and mean. A good candidate for the Hunger Games, I guess. She even looks excited. How can she look excited?
When she stands next to Katniss, the difference between them is drastic and horrible. Lucy is a town girl, the butcher's daughter. She's tall and muscular from years of hard work and good food. Katniss is small and lean. A thrill of fear for her passes through my head, but I force it down. I can't let myself lose my head.
Effie zips over to the boys' bowl. She doesn't hesitate to pull out both slips at once and opens one of them. "Peeta Mellark."
The name has some effect on Katniss. She goes rigid, stares at the blonde boy who's heading up the stage. I recognize him vaguely. The baker's son. But why does Katniss react to his name like that? I know there's something she told me about him, a very long time ago, when she was thirteen and I fifteen. What was it…
That's right! She had once confessed that she owed him. She never shared what her life was like before she met me, at least not in detail, but her interaction with him was when she was eleven, before me. One day, when she and her family were starving after her father was killed in the same mine blast that took mine, she was sitting at the base of the apple tree in the backyard of the bakery. She said that Peeta had come out with two burned loaves of bread and thrown them her way. He saved her life.
I'm brought back to the present when Effie Trinket starts to speak again. "And for our last tribute from District Twelve, Gale Hawthorne!"
The first thing I register is Katniss, her mouth opening, the tears that she's been fighting finally spilling over. She looks like she's about to drop. The next thing I notice is the absolute silence from the crowd. No one claps, no one says anything. I notice Greasy Sae from the Hob put her face in her hands.
Then I realize I have to move. The other eighteens move out of my way, leaving me a very clear path to the stage. I make my way up, finding my family staring at me, at the other tributes. My mother, too shocked to move. My two brothers, crying. My sister Posy, too young to know what's happening but cries because her brothers do. It almost breaks my resolve, so I look straight ahead.
Mayor Undersee begins the long and dull Treaty of Treason, which he's required to do at this point every year. I'm past listening, though. I look to my left without moving my head, where Katniss stands at my side. Usually, I find the difference in our size funny, but now its terrifying. The thought that I might have to kill her crosses through my mind and I shove it away, furious with myself. Never. I would rather kill myself.
I try to listen to the mayor's speech, but then a small hand slips into mine and all thought disappears again. I give Katniss' hand a squeeze and feel her squeeze back. It'll be okay, I want to whisper. I'll protect you. But there's no way to say it now.
As soon as the mayor is finished speaking, Peacekeepers in crisp white uniforms herd all four of us into the Justice Building. We're each directed into our own rooms with soft couches, warm air. Too warm. "You will have one hour for goodbyes," the Peacekeeper says shortly, and leaves me alone. I sit on the couch and wait.