When the boy tribute is being announced, I'm hoping it's not me. Prim needs me now, and her name was in that ball once. My name is in there five times, and I don't even take tesserae. Gale won't allow it. I take a deep and drawing breath as Effie Trinket squeaks out the name in her thick, weird Capitol accent that I can hardly understand. "And the male tribute for the seventy-fourth Hunger Games is . . . Peeta Mellark! Come on, boy, up, up, up you go!" Hardly anyone gasps, but a few trickle through.
He may be from the Merchant and he may have it better than most of us, he's still a member of our District and we know he's going to lose. I know Katniss is going to lose too. She may be able to shoot a squirrel in the eye from a mile away, but she doesn't stand a chance against the Careers in the Arena. They've had years of illegal training and she's had next to none. Nobody wins in District 12 and that's a fact. Our only tribute survived in only a last thread of luck at the very last moment, and look at how he turned out. He lays unconscious face-first on the ground in front of the stage with half of his smashed liquor bottle still clutched in his hand.
After Katniss and Peeta shake hands, they turn back to face us. Katniss has put on a mask—a mask she wears often—but it's weaker now. I see the look of desperation clouding her eyes, the tightness of her fists by her sides. She's convinced she'll die in the arena, but she needs to stay strong for Prim. We all do. Peeta stands on the other side of the pale, pink poufy-wigged announcer and I know he's not even trying to stay strong for the crowd. His head is slightly bowed and his slick hair is falling away from its designated place and the muscle in his cheek works as he stares out into the crowd.
Effie Trinket lifts their arms above their heads and happily cheers, "Our tributes of District 12!" Her voice booms throughout the square but it's absolutely quiet besides the sound of sniffling and softer sobs that must be coming from Prim. The look of devastation is evident on all of our faces as we lift three fingers to our lips and offer them to our tributes. Katniss' mouth falls open slightly and Peeta looks like he's just about to start crying, but he doesn't. He's kept at least that much composure.
After the crowd has dispersed, my family and Katniss' and Peeta's stand in two separate lines just outside the Justice Building. Strangely enough, a middle-aged man with blond hair stands beside Mrs. Everdeen, who must be Peeta's father, and only a short and plumper woman with a grimacing face stands alone on the side that leads to where Peeta is being kept. This is when we say our goodbyes. I stand beside Prim as she still cries softly into my shoulder. I put my arms around her and rub her back with one hand. "She'll be okay. You know how Katniss is. She's brave and she's a really good hunter. She'll make it," I reassure her, but I'm doubting myself. I don't think she stands a chance.
I want to accompany them inside to give Prim the support she needs to not break down again, but I feel like Katniss would appreciate it much more if it were just her family. We're close enough to be family, but only just. I look down at my shoes as I feel Posy staring at me. I'm scraping the coal dust off my horrid excuse for boots when I hear her little voice pipe up. "Rawy, Posy no like when you sad." That makes a small smile ghost onto my lips and I look over to see her clutched in my mother's arms. I walk over to her when she holds her arms out to me and I take her into mine. "Peas, Rory isn't sad." I poke her nose when I see her frowning with her big cheeks and puffy lips. "So you don't be sad either." Satisfied, I set her on the ground where she stumbles over to pester Vick.
"Gale," I say when I see him hanging his head and squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn't respond. He's just shaking his head and the same muscle that I saw working in Peeta's mouth is now the same for Gale. I lean one shoulder against the wall and continue to watch him. "Do you think she'll win?" That gets his attention. His head snaps up to look at me and I can see the sadness and fear and love so clear on his face. He hardly ever shows his true colors to us, but now was one of those times that he just couldn't keep his walls up. These Games, this Nation; it was all getting too much for him. So hard that now his walls are caving in and he doesn't have enough nails to keep it upright. It has already broken him.
Gale's mouth is a thin white line and he gulps visibly. "I don't know," he says finally. "She's stronger than they are and she knows how to hunt. The odds could be in her favor. I just know she won't go down without a fight." Weakly, he runs a hand through his hair and turns away from me, anticipating in agony his turn to say his goodbyes. "I'll be rooting for her. She could do it," I say.
Soon enough, Prim is being dragged from the Justice Building with her mother stalking quietly behind. I yell at them to let her go and they deposit her roughly onto the ground. I curse at them, but they don't pay me any mind. Just doing their job. Just trying to break us. But it won't work. I'm sick and tired of them pushing us around like this. My blood boils and I clench my teeth as I lift Prim from the ground and she nearly strangles me in a hug. It takes all of my strength to make her release her grip around my throat.
"She's going to make it. She promised, and Katniss never breaks her promises," Prim says over and over again that now it had seemed to become a sort of mantra for her.
Gale is pulled from the building as well and he's fighting the Peacekeepers' firm grip on his arms. Eventually he screams that he's had enough and shakes them free, stalking straight past our stunned faces and heading right into the Woods. His gray eyes look troubled and his fists are clenched so tightly at his sides, his knuckles are white. I call after him but it's no use. When Gale wants to talk, he'll talk. But I have a feeling he won't be talking for a long time.