Gotta love short jokes. One of the highlights for me (of the whole book, I mean) is definitely writing about the Careers. I potentially am not taking this as seriously as I should be.
The next three days are horrible. Gale isn't on television at all. The only Games-related content is commentary and replays, which does nothing to reassure me and gets old quickly. Within half an hour, I feel trapped, and I run off into the woods again. It's a good thing, really- I still have mouths to feed.
I hunt. I run. I stare at the TV when the prospect seems bearable.
I do not talk to Peeta.
At the end of the third day, the tributes' training scores are announced. It's not a very exciting affair. Each tribute gets a private- meaning no cameras- session with the Gamemakers, and they're given a one-through-twelve ranking that indicates how dangerous they might be in the arena.
You have to take the scores with a grain of salt, though, because sometimes the Gamemakers get it wrong. The highest scoring tribute doesn't always win- it comes down to luck, sponsors, and the limits a person can push themselves to when they're actually faced with a fight to the death. Also, sometimes a tribute will aim for a low score on purpose, to fly under the radar.
Nobody seems to be using that strategy this time. The Career tributes all get nines and tens, as does Thresh, the giant from District Eleven. But there's only one score I'm interested in hearing, as little as it means.
Gale scores an eight. Respectable, certainly. I wonder what he showed off in his session. Probably his skill with a bow, although he's not as good of a shot as I am.
Madge gets a four. This does not surprise me. Madge has never held a weapon or been in a fight before. She probably knits, for crying out loud. Four out of twelve is generous.
The next day is the interviews. The day after that, the Games begin.
I purposefully run myself ragged on the day of the interviews. I help Prim trim Lady's unladylike beard and make an extra trip to and from the woods. Keeping the Hawthornes well-fed is the only thing that can truly occupy me during Gale's absence. And even then, I don't really forget. He is on my mind every minute of every hour.
Part of me wishes I was there with him. Just so I could change something. Being home while he's gone makes me feel so damn helpless, and I despise the feeling. I'm not used to feeling helpless. How many times, since I was a child, have I taken things into my own hands and fixed them? But this, Gale's horrible situation, is beyond my control.
And his interview, well. That'll make it all the more real.
In theory, it's not that big of a deal. Every tribute gets only three minutes onscreen, sitting down with Caesar Flickerman. But there are twenty-four of them! And Caesar- despite looking like a freak and surely being terrible deep down- is a wonderful host. He's got a knack for making each and every tribute shine, like he can look at them and just tell what question will open them up or help them woo the audience. Unlike everyone else in the Capitol, Caesar does not pick favorites.
Prim and I wait for the interviews with bated breath. Unfortunately, Gale will be last. The tributes will go in numerical order, with the attitude of 'ladies first'. We are more than an hour away from the one segment that matters.
That's not exactly true, I suppose. The interviews will give me a glimpse into the other tributes' heads. It'll help me understand, make guesses on their strategies.
But do I really want to understand, if I can't change anything? Whatever is going to happen will happen. Whether Katniss Everdeen understands or not will play no part in that.
I remember Prim's words from earlier. I can't pretend it's not happening. And even if I say I don't want to know, the truth is, I can't look away.
Up first is the girl from One- Glimmer, the one Prim said was so pretty. She is good-looking, although I still wrinkle my nose at her. Blonde, full-figured, and made up to perfection, Glimmer doesn't look like a killer. But she's from District One. She will be.
Her interview is sultry and full of innuendos. Caesar goes "ow-OW!" several times. I almost feel like Prim shouldn't be watching.
The boy tribute, Marvel, is somewhat better. He talks about the football team he plays on and flexes his biceps so dramatically he tears his powder-blue suit. It's obvious- to me, at least- that he is dumb as rocks, but I can't forget he scored a ten.
Both tributes from Two- Cato and Clove- come off as very intense and possibly crazy. Cato, the blonde giant with the rippling shoulder muscles, discusses how much he can bench-press and then how he's descended from a long line of victors. His blue eyes are almost manic, and bets on Cato are rolling in. The odds are certainly in his favor.
Clove, wiry and dark-haired, is dressed in a soft orange dress, but even frills can't make her look anything less than deadly. Her beady eyes inspect the crowd closely and then lock on Caesar. I wonder if she's thinking of all the ways she could kill him.
"A little birdy told me that you volunteered for the Games, Clove," says Caesar. "What made you decide to do that? Someone of your stature…"
Her eyes narrow for a moment. "I volunteered because I know I can win. I will win. I won't be counted out because of my size, Caesar."
"I wouldn't dream of it!" Caesar exclaims. He turns to the crowd. "Would any of you?!"
The roar of applause is deafening. It gets even louder when Caesar asks, "How many of you will be betting on Clove Kentwell in the Games?"
I swallow hard. So far, it looks like Clove has the people's votes. That's not the only thing that matters, of course, but when you add in the training, the confidence, those sinister eyes…I won't be counting her out either.
The tributes from District Three do little to catch my eye, although the boy has a crippled leg. I hadn't noticed that before. The girl from District Four has a bit about her parade costume that makes everyone laugh, but the boy ignores Caesar's attempts to make conversation and just whimpers about his family back home. Not a good look.
District Five's girl- her name is Finch- makes an impression by answering in such a businesslike tone it almost seems as if she is giving the interview. She's eighteen. She had plans for the summer other than being reaped. She looks forward to going home back home in a few weeks.
And that's that. As if the Hunger Games are just a mild inconvenience for her. I'm not sure if I should sneer at her confidence- what's a little redhead going to do against the likes of Cato and Clove? - or simply be terrified of it.
Districts Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten go by. I'm getting impatient now. I barely pay attention as little Rue charms the Capitol and Thresh answers "hmm" to nine questions in a row. Then Madge takes the stage, and suddenly I'm on the edge of my seat.
I'm adamant that I don't care for Madge, but she is a link to Gale. Therefore, her interview is important and I must pay attention. She smiles sadly at the audience and swishes the hem of her baby blue dress before taking a seat across from Caesar.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Madge Undersee!" Caesar exclaims, resulting in a smattering of applause. "Now, Madge, I am under the impression that, despite me being the announcer, you have something of an announcement to make tonight."
"Oh, well…" Madge looks down at her lap. "It's not really good news."
Is she acting? What is going on here? Prim and I turn to each other at the same time.
"I think our audience will insist, Madge," Caesar says gently. The cameras pan over the crowd of Capitol citizens, all of whom seem to be waiting with bated breath.
"Well…alright." Madge takes a deep breath that's awkwardly caught by the microphone. "When all of us tributes arrive in the Capitol, a sample of our blood is taken. You know, to make sure no illicit substances are involved."
Madge Undersee…drug lord?
"Mine came back negative, of course," she says quickly. "For drugs. But…it turns out…"
I think her pause is purposeful. I think she is creating suspense on purpose.
"I'm very sick, actually," Madge confesses to the crowd. "I have a type of blood cancer. So I might not look sick right now, but if left untreated, I will grow weaker and die."
"How unfortunate," Caesar murmurs.
The screen behind them changes from the Capitol seal to a series of flashing medical diagrams while Madge continues to talk. All of this goes over my head and I more or less black out until she finishes with, "…and I can only hope I'll return to the Capitol in a few weeks' time to continue receiving treatment."
"Oh, you poor child," Caesar whispers. I didn't think it was possible, but it seems something has shocked him. The crowd is equally shocked, and even more moved. Many of the citizens have tears in their eyes, and some are bawling.
Madge has done it, I realize.
She's won the pity vote.
She doesn't look happy about it, obviously. I doubt, in her own grief, she's realized that the sponsors will be lining up for her now. She just twists the hem of her dress in her hand again. "You are too kind, Caesar. But let's talk about something else."
The Capitol seal is back. Caesar switches gears effortlessly. "Well, how about that lovely dress?"
Madge begins to ramble about forget-me-nots and her mother's garden and other such nonsense. It all pales in comparison to the announcement of her illness.
"In a way, she's almost lucky, isn't she?" Prim asks. "If she'd never been Reaped, she never would have been able to afford treatment."
"I wouldn't call her lucky. It's unlikely she'll survive long enough for treatment to matter." But as the applause for Madge roars, I realize I could very well be wrong about that.
"Your family sounds lovely, Madge." Despite saying something of the sort twenty-two times already tonight, Caesar manages to sound more or less sincere. "But- if I may ask- is there anyone else at home, anyone especially close to your heart?"
"Well…yes. Actually, there is someone from home who I love quite dearly." Even on our grainy screen, it's clear that her cheeks are turning pink. "I don't think I should talk about him, though. He's a bit shy."
Her expression is so earnest and the Capitol is eating this up, but my stomach is churning because she's talking about Gale. My Gale.
"Not even a little bit?" Caesar asks. His expression is just as earnest as Madge's, and he plays the crowd wonderfully. "Look at these people, Madge- can't you tell they're all dying to hear about this boy of yours?"
He's right, of course. The Capitol freaks are all on the edges of their seats with anticipation, and I probably would be too if I didn't know exactly what was going on.
"I don't intend to leave anyone in the dark, Caesar," Madge promises. "I just think- maybe you should ask him yourself."
Prim and Mother- along with everyone else in the country, probably- gasps. Caesar's jaw stretches towards the floor. "You mean…"
Madge nods. There's a coy little smile on her face. I feel as if I may vomit.
As if on cue- and perhaps it is on cue- a buzzer goes off, indicating that Madge's interview time is up. She curtsies before flouncing offstage, with a chipper, "Thank you, Panem!"
The applause is overwhelming. I even hear a muffled, "I love you, Madge!" screamed from the back row. The camera switches angles quickly, capturing different people's reactions. I keep my eyes trained on the screen. My heart is pounding; it's as if I'm there. And I'm finally about to see what I've been waiting for.
I've never seen Gale dressed in anything nicer than his white Reaping Day shirt. His gray suit and stark black dress shirt are simpler than what the other tributes are wearing, but he looks so remarkably un-Gale-like that I hardly recognize him at first. But that stony-faced expression, the rigid posture, that's familiar. And when his silver eyes finally meet the camera, I know those too.
"Did you know about that?" Prim asks gravely.
I realize we have been sitting in dead silence, and I probably look like a psychopath.
"About…them?"
She nods. I nod back. "Yes. But it was supposed to be a secret. Mainly, from her parents."
"That's smart of them. I doubt the mayor would be pleased for his daughter to marry a Seam boy." Mother speaks for the first time in ages. "My parents certainly weren't."
She rarely talks about the old days, when she lived in town, before my father was in the picture. Ordinarily I'd be curious, but Gale is taking his seat across from Caesar and this is the only interview I really care about. I shush my family and stare, drinking in every bit of Gale that I can.
I can tell he's uncomfortable just by how he's sitting. Jaw tight, eyebrows knit, knees locked. The red interview chairs look comfortable; Gale is not comfortable. I try to make a guess at what he might be thinking about. Did he know Madge was going to make their relationship public- like, extremely public- tonight? Did he know she was sick? How does this play into the strategy he's surely developed by now?
"Gale Hawthorne, man of the hour!" Caesar drawls, winding up the crowd into a roar of applause. "Rarely am I given such a wonderful lead-in for an interview. Welcome!"
"Thank you, Caesar," Gale says curtly. "I should warn you, I'm not too keen on talking about my personal relationships on television."
That sounds like the Gale I know.
"Well, of course we'll respect your privacy!" Caesar booms. Then he turns towards the crowd and whispers- as much as one can whisper into a microphone- "I'll work on him!"
That earns him a laugh, but Gale winces.
"What do you expect the arena will look like?" asks Caesar, keeping his promise and choosing a neutral topic.
"Desert, probably."
"And how do you think you'd fare in that?"
"Fine."
Now I wince. I understand Gale's desire for privacy, but the one-word answers aren't going to earn him any sponsors. Winning the Games means making sacrifices, and that doesn't just mean losing your innocence by killing other children or going days without food in a deadly arena. Sometimes it also means pouring out your heart about your no-longer-secret girlfriend on live TV.
Caesar also realizes there's a problem. He leans in closer to Gale, as if this is an intimate setting, not a stage in front of hundreds of people. "Mr. Hawthorne, is there a problem?"
Gale exhales sharply. The exact sound he makes when he misses an easy shot. "I'm just not used to opening up like this, Caesar."
I can't help it. I laugh. So does Prim and everyone in the live audience.
"I understand 'fine' can be a very personal answer," Caesar says gently, and also oddly sincerely.
"You know what I mean."
"Ah." Caesar nods delicately, as if he is just now understanding. "Her."
"Her indeed."
The camera switches to Madge, in the front row of the audience now, who is staring intently at Gale just as I am. Her hands are clasped together eagerly, and while I can't hear what she's saying, it's clear she's cheering him on.
I can only watch, stomach twisting, as Gale finds Madge in the crowd and their eyes meet. A private moment that everyone in the country gets to watch- but that's what the Games are about, isn't it? Putting your life on display for the world's entertainment.
Gale takes a deep breath. "I think I'm ready, Caesar."
Caesar squeals like a little girl. I think the anticipation is getting to him. "How wonderful! So is it true, then? Are you and Madge Undersee…an item?"
I don't need to listen. I know the answer. It hurts to hear anyway, and I'm more concerned about how the crowd- the potential sponsors- reacts. I try to shut out Gale's quiet, "yes, we are" and stare at the audience. They like him. I know they do. In fact, many of the ladies seem to be swooning. I guess I can't blame them.
"And how did you two meet?"
Here, Gale freezes up. I know why. We both met Madge the same way: trading strawberries for coins with her father, but our hunting expeditions, and therefore those strawberries, are entirely illegal. He can't announce that on television.
He recovers quickly. "Madge is the mayor's daughter. Everyone in Twelve knows who she is. But two years ago…something just changed between us."
I remember that day. I was the only person Gale could trust to talk about such things- an honor and a burden. It had twisted up my heart then too. And it had taken a long time for me to admit that jealous was the appropriate word.
"…of course, nobody ever knew," Gale continues. Nobody except me. "Madge and I come from different sides of town. I can only imagine what they're thinking back at home."
I imagine Mayor Undersee's shrieking will soon be audible in the Seam.
"Probably that they're grateful Madge has found someone who cares about her so deeply," Caesar says gently. "How tragic…for you to be reaped the same year."
It's the closest he's come to acknowledging that, in a matter of weeks or even days, all but one of the children he's interviewed tonight will be dead. It's not something you're supposed to talk about- and Gale is the worst tribute to bring it up with, because it takes so little to set him off. His face darkens. His steel-gray eyes turn to charcoal.
"You're right, Caesar. Tragic."
"Uh-oh," says Prim, and I'm thinking the same thing. Gale's voice is as cold as New Year's Day. He sounds dangerously close to losing his temper, and I can't think of anything that would more effectively tilt the odds away from him.
But Gale never lets me down. He cools his temper in seconds and says exactly the right thing. "But you know what, Caesar? It's not just tragic. I feel lucky, to be here with her. To protect her. None of the other tributes have that."
The camera flips to a tearful Madge as all the color drains from my face. So far, I have comforted myself with the reminder that Gale has what it takes to win. I have not considered the possibility he might choose not to.
He might throw it all away.
For Madge.
There's that jealousy again. And the same dire hopelessness I felt when Effie Trinket first read his name. It makes sense. Gale has always been selfless. And after tonight, there's no denying that Madge means the world to him. Of course he would sacrifice himself for her.
"What a lucky girl," Caesar murmurs appreciatively. The buzzer goes off, but he ignores it. "And what a valiant young man we have here! Gale Hawthorne, everybody!"
The crowd roars for him just as loudly as it did for Madge. Prim claps along half-heartedly. I stay silent, eyes locked ahead. I am numb.
I am numb, and Gale is never coming home.
§
Earlier That Day…
Bonk, bonk, bonk.
Haymitch is banging his head against the mahogany wall. He doesn't pause when Madge breezes by, calling, "Don't forget you have to coach me this afternoon!", and when Gale storms past him to get to the dining room, the bonks actually seem to increase in tempo.
But when Effie Trinket enters the room with a concerned hem-hem, Haymitch steps away from the wall. Partially because Effie may actually be helpful to talk to and partially because he's getting a headache.
"I don't dare ask how your first round of interview coaching went," Effie says dryly.
Haymitch scowls. First a morning arguing with the boy, then the headache, and now the escort is being snippy. Could this day get any worse? "I doubt you fared any better."
"As a matter of fact, Madge's manners are wonderful!" Effie informs him, perhaps a little bit smugly. "She'll be a natural onstage. I hardly had a thing to teach her!"
"Well, then you'll get a taste of it when it's your turn with the boy," Haymitch retorts.
She just shrugs, her thick furry collar brushing her shoulders. "I'm sure he'll do just fine. I don't see why you have such an issue with him."
Haymitch bristles. "He's an ass!"
Effie taps her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're just too much alike."
"Then why do you like him so much?"
"I might like you too, if you bathed."
"Hey!"
"And remained sober for more than a few seconds at a time."
"Not gonna happen!" Haymitch promises. He's not even sober right now. "…and he's nothing like me, anyway. He's stubborn, arrogant, selfish-"
In an attempt to be tactful, Effie nods along instead of confirming or denying.
"-and impossible to root for."
As always, annoyingly, she responds reasonably. "You could place your bet on the girl instead."
He pauses, thinking it over. How rare it is for him to consider something she said! He envisions Madge's interview, charming the Capitol audience just like she's charmed every staff member in the Tribute Tower. He pictures Madge in the Hunger Games. He sees her picking up a crossbow the wrong way and shooting herself in the foot. Trying to sneak up on a tribute and falling over a bramble. Accidentally eating nightlock because she just got so hungry.
No, it's been clear from the beginning. Gale is a hunter; he's an experienced killer with a great many survival skills. Madge is a town girl. One has a distinct advantage over the other.
"Nope, not doing that," Haymitch decides. "It has to be him. I'll just drink myself into oblivion whenever I have to work with him."
"As opposed to the way you normally drink yourself into oblivion just for fun?"
Haymitch hates her sometimes.
Did you know that interviews are SUPER HARD TO WRITE? This is why I need comic relief in the form of Haymitch. Again, I probably should be taking this more seriously.
…yeah no.
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