Thank you all very much for the follows, the faves and the reviews. You've all been incredibly supportive.
Betalove: dandelionsunset and evilgrinstar-ladies, you are loveliness personified.
Chapter 15—deep in the meadow
Gale ignored Katniss' advice to get cleaned up for Madge. All of Katniss' jokes aside, he didn't think this qualified as a date. It felt like more of a meeting than anything else.
Madge was waiting for him at the edge of the Meadow closest to the Seam. She had a large blanket in her hands and was facing him as he approached. Now that Gale suspected that her timid persona was an act, he observed her carefully. Physically, her appearance was just like it always was—plain, drab and mousy. She was looking at him from under her bangs, as if she was shy. Even her voice was its usual, quiet timbre when she greeted him and asked him to follow her.
The Meadow was full of people today, so Gale expected that she would find a place that gave them some privacy. Instead, Madge picked a spot more or less in the middle, where lots of people could see them. He helped her spread the blanket on the ground and then he sprawled across it. Madge sat down, tucking her feet underneath her and kept her hands folded in her lap. She looked very prim and proper. Gale suddenly felt like a slob, so he sat up, as well.
Madge started to speak. It looked like she was talking to her folded hands. Her voice was so quiet that, once again, Gale had to lean over to hear what she had to say. He supposed that to anybody watching, they must have looked like a courting couple, leaning towards each other as they spoke of matters of the heart.
"There is surveillance here in the Meadow but the electricity is off. Chances are, nothing is being recorded. Even if it was on, there are so many people here today that it would be hard to pick up what we are saying to each other. Still, you never know who is an informant, so keep your voice down."
Gale tried very hard not to look around and see who was listening. Madge seemed to sense this, because she leaned towards him and placed her hand on his arm. "Gale, we're teenagers. Nobody is going to find this unusual, us being here on a blanket and talking quietly. If anything, the worst that people will think is that you are taking mousy Madge Undersee on a pity date."
"Or that I'm some Seam social climber, sucking up to the Mayor's daughter," Gale pointed out.
"Same thing."
Madge then listed where it was safe—or more accurately, where it was not safe—to talk in District 12. Much of what she told him confirmed his suspicions, or at least his worst fears, about the Capitol However, she told him two things that did genuinely surprise him.
First, while he was not surprised to hear that the mines were under surveillance, he was surprised to hear that the surveillance was constant, heavy and in every part of the mine. He would need to get word to some of his friends. There was always a lot of discontent among the miners. Gale was enormously grateful to Madge for letting him know. It was the sort of information that could save lives.
Second, when he asked her about other surveillance, especially in the Seam, she didn't answer directly but instead asked him a question.
"Gale, how often do you get electricity in the Seam?"
"Not often. During the Games, of course. And sometimes, we'll get it for two or three hours in the evening." He wondered where this was going.
"Ever get it in the mornings? Or afternoons?"
"No."
"Ever?"
Gale thought about it. He could never remember ever having electricity in the morning or afternoon, unless the Games were on.
"Nope. Never."
"What are most people doing in the evening?"
Gale shrugged. "I don't know. Eating, spending time with family, talking about their day..." Gale's voice drifted off. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He wondered why he hadn't made the connection before.
The mines were under constant surveillance but the miners went home after their shifts. Home, where they would feel comfortable airing their grievances. Gale thought about the last time the Hawthornes had electricity. It had been a few weeks, at least. What had they done that night? What had they talked about? He shivered a little, thinking about it. He felt like he'd just been robbed of something.
Madge squeezed his hand in understanding. She had to live with 24-hour surveillance, after all.
"My educated guess is that they only spot-check the Seam," Madge speculated. "When it comes to dissent, they probably have better luck focusing on the mines or using informants."
Madge then told him about her Aunt Maysilee. Gale had never heard this story before, but that didn't surprise him. People in Twelve didn't discuss past tributes. It was too painful a reminder of not only who had been lost to the Capitol, but of who they had yet to lose. The only things that Gale had ever really heard about the 50th Quarter Quell was that Haymitch Abernathy won those Games, and that there had been twice as many tributes as usual.
The more Gale heard, the closer he sat to her. When she recounted her first Reaping—the day she had received her Aunt Maysilee's mockingjay pin—Gale realized that he had genuine compassion for Madge. True, she never grew up hungry and she didn't have any younger siblings to feed. But there was no denying that the Games had stolen not only her aunt but also most of Madge's childhood. A morphling addict for a mother, a distracted politician for a father, and no siblings? It sounded like a lonely way to grow up. At some point while she was talking, he realized that they were holding hands. He wasn't sure who reached for who.
When she was finished, they sat there for a bit, fingers intertwined, while Gale reflected on everything Madge had told him.
For the first time in his life, Gale felt like he saw the whole, horrible picture. Maysilee had died nearly twenty-four years ago. Gale did not doubt that her parents had mourned the loss of their daughter and obviously, Maysilee's twin had never recovered. But nearly a quarter of a century later, the niece that Maysilee had never known was still suffering from the outcome of the 50th Quarter Quell. The Games were like a poisonous rock that the Capitol heaved into a pond; the toxins rippled outward through the generations, damaging everything that came before and after.
"Madge, I had no idea."
Madge murmured, "There have been a lot of other tragedies since then, Gale, as you and Katniss know all to well. I'm not telling you this so you'll feel sorry for me. I'll telling you this so you'll understand why I want you to teach me to hunt."
Gale pulled back and stared at her. Madge didn't need to hunt. She didn't have people to feed, and she didn't need money. Gale knew what Madge was really asking him.
Madge was asking him for weapons training.
Gale felt his heart pound at the prospect. He tried very hard not to think of his plans to escape Twelve. Instead, he started with the most immediate issue in front of him—how to get Madge into the woods. The biggest obstacle to that was the Mayor.
"What will you tell your father?" Mayor Undersee was a good man but Gale didn't think he'd been all that keen on his only child learning to use a weapon.
"That I'm looking for more strawberries."
"They only grow in the summer."
"Then I'll tell him I'm looking for medicinal plants for Mother."
"Will you tell him that you're going with me?"
"Yes. He'll be more inclined to think that 'looking for berries' is just a cover for spending time with the best looking boy in Twelve. It wouldn't do for the Mayor's daughter to be seen at the Slag Heap, you know."
"He wouldn't want you to go to the Slag Heap, but he'd be OK with you sneaking off into the woods? Madge, nobody gets shot for going to the Slag Heap."
Madge sighed and looked a little disappointed in Gale. "Gale, when was the last time anybody got shot for going into the woods? Do you really think the Capitol doesn't know about the poaching and the Hob? Who are your best customers, anyway?"
"Peacekeepers," Gale admitted.
"And politicians," Madge replied, pointing to herself but clearly meaning her father. "The black market isn't a real concern to anybody. If the Capitol ever does come in to shut down the Hob, it will just be a pretext that they'll use to punish the District for something the Capitol sees as a much bigger threat than poaching."
Gale thought about what she was saying. "Like dissent."
"Like dissent," Madge agreed. "Anyway, to answer your earlier question, I wouldn't go to the Slag Heap with anyone because I value my privacy and there isn't any to be found there. Besides, my father will probably think that I'm trying to avoid being seen with you so I can keep up appearances for Mrs. Mellark."
Now Gale was confused. Madge narrated for him the entire story of Mr. Mellark coming to her house to speak with her father, and the solution Madge had come up with. This reminded Gale of the issues he'd had over the last few days with Katniss. His mood soured and he pulled away from Madge.
"So you're trying to get Peeta interested in you?" Gale sounded downright peevish.
"God, no." Madge laughed. After an hour of talking as quietly as possible, it almost startled Gale to hear it. "Don't get me wrong, Peeta is a nice guy but he's not really my type. I like guys who are a little more-"
"Good looking?" Gale cut her off. "Rugged? Manly?" He didn't really have anything against Peeta but still—Peeta's "aw-shucks" shyness was just the sort of thing capable of bringing out Katniss' protective side. He didn't know if Katniss would ever want to date Peeta, but she might adopt him.
"Something like that, yes." The smile on Madge's face was a little too understanding for Gale's comfort. "Besides," she said as she stood up and indicated that Gale do the same, "I prefer brunettes." And there was nothing timid or mousy about the smile she gave him then. Gale smiled back, wondering what the chances were that this was all an elaborate ruse to just get him alone in the woods.
They shook out the blanket and Gale helped her fold it up. "So what do you think," Madge quietly asked him when they stepped close to bring the ends of the blanket together. "Will you teach me?"
"Yeah. Wear trousers and sturdy shoes or boots. Clothing you can move in and get dirty. Meet me at the south edge of the Meadow tomorrow morning an hour before dawn."
Madge thanked him and started to leave, when he remembered something. "Wait, Madge," he pulled her close to him so he could whisper to her. "What about all of that trading on your back porch?"
"What about it? You've been trading berries and game with us for years. Before that, Mr. Everdeen traded berries and game. Every single one of those trades was recorded. Nobody has ever mentioned it, much less punished anybody over it."
"You're sure?" Gale persisted.
Madge rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake, Gale, trust me," she said, draping the folded blanket over her arm. "The Capitol isn't worried about a handful of berries."