A.N.: Oh how this story will wound my heart. Prepare your beautiful bums.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or its characters.
Chapter 2: Effie's Year
It feels like all the air is sucked from my lungs and time slows down until it stops. Effie Trinket stands on the stage, the slip of paper still in her hands and a wide smile on her face as if she's just crowned someone victor of the Hunger Games that are only just starting. Haymitch sits slumped in his chair, his head buried in his hands in either sadness over the tributes' fate or drunken weariness. Prim then takes a step forward, her arms firmly folded behind her back the way she does when she does not want to express her nervousness.
Time speeds up again, and without thinking I start moving after her. My hand reaches out to her, trying to grab her and never let go, but she is outside my range. I step over the robe keeping the herded children in and see a set of peacekeepers coming my way. I find my voice again and find it remarkably strong except for a slight break in pitch mid-sentence.
"I volunteer!" The peacekeepers now grab my arms and try to drag me away. "I volunteer as tribute!"
The hands on my arms tense up for a moment, then slowly release me. Primrose starts to shake her head at me, uttering words that I am not willing to hear. I block her voice out, just like I block out Effie Trinket and the murmur of the crowd. Effie motions for me to come closer and come on stage. Prim runs at me and wraps her skinny little arms around me. She mutters for me not to go. She says that I cannot go. Tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them spill down.
Someone has taken Prim away from me. I glance over my shoulders and see that Gale is half-carrying, half-dragging Prim along to the edge of the crowd, where my mother waits for him. Gale's expression is that of a man that's just been told he's never to breathe again. My mother's face is as white as a sheet as she locks Prim in her arms. Prim is still crying. I force myself to turn around and walk up to the stage.
On the stage I have to face three pairs of eyes, all with different emotions. Effie Trinket is nearly bouncing with excitement. This is the first time that someone from 'her' district has volunteered for the Hunger Games. Mayor Undersee has diverted his eyes and his mouth is bowed in a downward, sad curve. Madge, his daughter, sometimes sits witch me at lunch. We never talk much, but that suits us both fine. Perhaps she has told her father about me. And then there is Haymitch. He is looking at me with an appraising expression, his eyes looking me up and down in observation. I want to keep his gaze, but Effie pulls me to her side.
"A volunteer!" She chimes happily, as if she just discovered that I am a rare, rare animal species thought to be extinct. "How wonderful! This is going to my year! That's it! It seems like the spirit of the Games has finally reached District 12!" I spot Gale in the crowd and I can almost hear his groan of disgust.
"What is your name, my dear?" Effie chimes again.
"Katniss Everdeen," I say in a fairly steady voice. The crowd flinches slightly. For those in the district that did not know me I have just been given a name. And what has a name has a life. A life that is soon to be taken away.
"Then little Primrose must be your sister!"
I nod ever so slightly at Effie as I gulp.
"Can't have the younger sibling get more famous than you, can we now!" Effie laughs in a pitch that hurts my ears. "Well then, everybody, give a warm welcome to our tribute, Katniss Everdeen!"
There is a deafening silence coming from the crowd. Then, as Effie is about to bounce to the boys' glass sphere, hands rise from the crowd in a three finger salute, the thumb and little finger folded over the palm. I spot Gale once more who is also saluting, a small, rebellious smile dancing on his lips.
I stare at him for what seems an eternity. I will die in the arena and I will never see Gale again. I will never hear him laugh silently as I perceive the faint rustling of leaves for a squirrel. We will never work together to bring down a buck or boar. I will never glance at him sideways as he sits next to me, eyes closed, head slightly leaning back and a content smile on his face as he enjoys the faint breeze. I smile sadly. At least we made a promise that if one of us would end up in the Games, or would be gone for any other reason, the other would make sure both our families would not starve. He will make sure that sweet Prim will not die of starvation. He will be their saviour.
The combination of the salute and the realization that Gale and I will never spend one afternoon together almost got me crying. Haymitch has other plans though, and nearly tackles me as he slumps his weight on my shoulder, laughing heartily.
"I like this one! Spunk! Spunk and fire she has!" Haymitch breathes heavily in my face and I have to force my jaws shut not to let the meagre supply of food in my stomach come out again. Haymitch loses his balance and sways away, stumbles a small distance and falls off the stage. He just lays there until a set of peacekeepers grabs him by his arms and drags him away from the cameras.
"Wonderful, wonderful!" Effie chimes as she tries to regain control over the audience and cameras alike. "Well after the ladies come the gentlemen!"
A stab of fear works its way into my side. What if Gale is pulled? Then he will die too. Our families will succumb to starvation. That crooked grin will disappear, as will those steely grey eyes. I clutch my hands firmly behind my back and pray and beg that it is not his name that will be pulled.
Effie slowly reaches into the glass sphere and instead of digging, she swirls her long nails along the edges of the sphere and withdraws with a single slip of paper. The moment she takes to withdraw the slip and unfold it seems to take ten times as long.
"And our boy tribute is.." Please not Gale. Please not Gale. Please not Gale.
"Peeta Mellark!"
I let out a gasp of relief.
Peeta Mellark. Peeta Mellark the baker's son. The boy with the bread. I see him work to hold his head high as he steps from the crowd and slowly makes his way towards the stage.
A shiver runs over my spine. The boy with the bread that saved not only my life, but also that of my mother and sister. I suddenly feel very sad. I've never thanked him or repaid him. And now we will both die in the arena. No, the least I can do for him is try to help him survive as long as possible. Maybe he can even return home. If he did, would he help Prim and my mother? In remembrance of that girl that helped him in the arena, but had to face her demise anyway?
Before I can finish that train of thought I see Gale step from the other boys and walk forward down the aisle. His jaw is tense and set in determination. Before the words leave his mouth I know what he's about to do.
"I volunteer as tribute."
My nails dig into my palms. I try to glare at him, but he only smiles sadly at me. Inside my head I am screaming, yelling, panicking. I want to run up to him and beat him, kick him back to his place in the crowd where he belongs. Where he is safe.
But shock keeps me frozen in place.
Effie is beside herself. She is ecstatic as grabs Gale's wrist and practically drags him up the remaining distance to the stage. "Two volunteers, my oh my, what a fantastic day it is! Wonderful. Splendid! And who are you, my dear boy?"
Gale glances at me with that crooked grin, that is now laced with sadness. "Gale Hawthorne."
Millions of emotions seem to rush through me as I look at him. Sadness, rage, irritation, gratitude. They mix and match, separate and fight to boil to the surface of my face. The result is a scowl that makes Gale grin slightly.
"Sorry Catnip," he mouths silently at me and I simply scowled deeper.
This has gone all wrong. I had already made my mind up about what would happen in the arena. I would help Peeta, the boy with the bread, survive as long as possible, then face my inevitable demise. Gale was supposed to stay out of this and take care of our families, get over his grief over the loss of his best friend and hunting partner soon and make something of his life.
But there is nothing I can do about it. Once volunteered, the tribute is final. It is not possible for another person to volunteer for the first volunteer, otherwise one could volunteer in an endless cycle. No, there is nothing to be done about it. Gale and I will both go into that arena.
Perhaps with the two of us, we can survive long enough until the end to give me a chance to get Gale out alive. There is only so much I can do for him, and I am sure that he means to do the same for me.
Then it strikes me. He volunteered not for Peeta, but for me. He didn't want me to go alone into the fight.
I just stare out in front of me as Effie sits back down and gives Mayor Undersee the chance to read out the Treaty of Treason. Thoughts and emotions and fears are all jumbled up inside my head and fight over my focus. I can feel a headache coming up. I glance to the side and see that Gale is doing better than I am, as his face is set in grim determination.
After the Mayor finishes, Effie takes the stage again and grabs my right wrist and Gale's left and heaves them high in the air above her ridiculous pink wig.
"Two volunteers! This really is going to be my year! Happy Hunger Games everyone! And my the odds be ever in your favour!"
Next she makes me and Gale shake hands and I prepare to squish Gale's hand to mush to let him know my disapproval. But, instead, Gale grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug. A hug much like the one we exchanged each other when we parted before the Reaping. I have to gulp sudden tears away as I tighten my arms around him and cling to him, just as he clings to me.
The crowd is silent, as if Effie. Then, somewhere behind us, a loud order is given and the Peacekeepers come to separate us. I cling to Gale's hand as long as I can, but then we are forced apart and guided into the Justice Building while the notes of Panem's anthem play.
Somewhere behind me I think I hear Prim cry out my name.