April 28th, 2012

A/N: First of all, I have taken a little bit of liberty with events that happen in District 12 as I couldn't remember if Katniss from the trilogy comments at all on proceedings like weddings much. In my mind, anything worth celebrating in the Seam would probably involve almost everyone just because I have this quaint vision of it in my head. Secondly, Madge is a LOT of fun to write. I thoroughly enjoyed borrowing her perspective for this scene and have a newfound respect for her character. As always, enjoy! Reviews/comments/concerns etc welcomed too :)

It's pretty common to have wedding celebrations not long after the Reaping. Usually, the two at the center of the attention have survived their seventh year and have managed to escape the snatching fingers of Effie Trinkett for the last time. I've been to so many I can't count – one of the great privileges of being daughter to the Mayor – and no matter the amount of happiness surrounding me, I never enjoy them.

I know the girl only vaguely. She's three years ahead of me in school. Quiet. An understated kind of pretty. From the Seam. Some of the people say that she has a distant relationship to my one and only friend, Katniss Everdeen. A second cousin or something to that effect. I wouldn't know if these rumors are true. Katniss doesn't talk about extended family, when she talks at all. Besides, the cold truth of it is, cousins don't really mean that much in District 12. A lot of times, it's too hard to provide for those immediately around the kitchen table.

Thinking of Katniss makes me realize I haven't seen her. I search the square in vain, my shortness working against me, and once again, I'm distracted by the juxtaposition of the scene before me.

The setting is anything but perfect, though the celebrators don't seem to notice. The summer sun is sweltering overhead, simmering the dancers in a relative haze. For some, it only hides the beauty of their movements. The rest, it helps out a lot. Their feet send the hard-packed dirt into a frenzy of dust that swirls adding to the shimmery effect. Allowing myself a brief moment of impropriety, I snort back a sarcastic laugh. Not even weddings are immune to vanishing in the relentless blanket of dust.

Then, I see him and all the ridicule vaporizes from my mind instantly. He's easy enough to spot over the crowd of dancers, his height the defining characteristic over the blending of dark skin and dark eyes. I have to remember to close my gaping mouth before anyone disapproves of my gawking.

I disapprove of my gawking. I tell myself that I was just taken aback that someone so sullen and solid as Gale Hawthorne would be found anywhere near the dance floor. Twirling and spinning with such a gay atmosphere seems out of character for him. Really, though I think it's because his face is all kinds of beautiful when he smiles that way.

I'm thankful for the heat of the afternoon so no one can question the evident flush of my cheeks, but I look down a little embarrassed at my feet anyway. My light dress is already a shade or two darker because of the dust that settles around me, and though, I know it's futile, I swipe at the hem anyway. The action makes me feel more in control.

I don't let myself look back up right away, still not fully recovered from my wayward butterflies, and notice several other girls watching the handsome giant with open admiration and fascination. One of the older girls does not swoon, her face twisted into a bitter scowl. The expression makes me frown and I turn back to see what she is so unhappy with.

That's when I see Katniss.

I'm stuck with the same strange sense of shock when I see Gale take her hand and spin her, only to catch her easily when she sways unsteadily from the rapid rotation. She's laughing and shaking her head slightly at his outright silliness, but the grin on face negates her attempt to appear unimpressed. They pause in the midst of the motion, and for a moment, it seems like all the dancers are orbiting them.

The music changes as if sensing the two still bodies at the center of the square and shifts into a slower, more intimate tune. Katniss tries to step away, her lips voicing some kind of protest, but Gale is too strong and catches her hand before she can flee. I understand the older girl's face when a sudden spike of jealousy flares through me.

He's her best friend, Madge. Get a grip.

Somehow, those words only make my vision greener, yet I cannot tear my eyes away from them.

Gale's arms fold around Katniss' waist and after a moment of stubbornness, she finally relents and reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck. Katniss is by no means short, but she still has to press close to connect the circle. She pretends to be grouchy, shooting him her best petulant look. It lasts less than five seconds when he unleashes the full power of his dark gray eyes on her and dissolves her – and all of us gawkers – with a crooked grin. I can just barely make out the slight reddening of my friend's cheeks before she buries her face in his chest. He lets his chin rest atop her dark hair and slowly turns them away as they sway in a slow circle.

I feel the hot stab of envy again, and I really must need to get out of the heat before I completely lose my cool to something so irrational as two friends dancing at a wedding. I know Katniss, I do. She has no interest in boys. Not in that regard at least. Which is hard for me to understand as her peer of fifteen years who certainly has noticed boys in that way. I shake my head, bewildered. Especially when she has him as a best friend.

Gale Hawthorne. What has got you all bothered about Gale Hawthorne, Madge?

Everything, I think to myself. While Katniss might not think of boys like that, I certainly do. Judging by the looks from that group of girls – there are many more frowns and irritated looks now – I'm the one who's normal in our solemn little duo. And it's not just the dark good looks, the ruggedness of a provider, or even his brooding demeanor we'd all be more than willing to try to crack.

I study them again, as Gale's face comes back into view. The goofy grin is now gone, replaced by a serious look. His eyebrows slightly pull together, his lips pressed into a grim line. Tortured is the word that comes to mind. At first, I don't understand his pain, but when he glances down at the girl folded in his arms and then looks up and away, blinking rapidly against some aggrieved thought. Katniss has him wrapped around her little pinky and she's not even aware of her effect on him.

Wanting what you can't have, Madge.

I think I should snort again, in spite of myself. But I can't. Wanting what I can't have is exactly what I feel. Not for the first time in my life, I'm wishing I was a girl from the Seam.

~Fin