Star Crossed Killers

3: The Volunteer

My stomach clenches, and I feel an hand gripping  my arm. I turn to see Madge looking at me with shocked, sad eyes. I find Prim, who's face has gone pale and who's eyes are glassy with tears. She tucks the back of her shirt into her skirt, and my body springs into action.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I scream, running past the row of relieved girls until I make it to the front of the square. "I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

"Katniss no!" Prim cries as I push her behind me. Prim grabs onto my dress, tears wet on her cheeks.

"Let go, Prim," I say, pushing her away. Peeta and Gale are here now, each taking one of Prim's arms and dragging her away from me. As I start stepping up the stairs onto the stage, I look back and see Peeta murmuring something to Gale. Gale shakes his head, and Peeta says whatever it is again, more firmly. Gale, pauses, picks Prim up in his arms, and nods. Peeta grips Gale's shoulder and nods back. Gale carries Prim away and Peeta goes back to his place in the crowd.

I realize I'm on the stage now, standing next to the Grim Reaper of District 12, Effie Trinket, who looks rather excited by the events that have transpired in the last ninety or so seconds. We don't have many volunteers in District 12. It seems a little silly to offer yourself up for certain death, but some do. Not here though. Never here.

"Well, isn't this fantastic," Effie Trinket glows, "What is your name dear?" She offers the microphone to me.

"Katniss Everdeen," I say into the microphone, my surprisingly steady voice reverberating throughout the town square.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"  Effie Trinket chirps.

But no one claps. Not a single person in all of District 12 claps. The square is silent. Refusing to acknowledge the atrocity we are put through each year, even if just for a moment.

Then something precious happens. Peeta initiates it. He, followed by others, followed by everyone, touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, usually seen at funerals. It's used to say goodbye to someone you admire and love. I want to cry. I want to kiss Peeta.

It's touching to see how people care for Prim and my family. It makes me think maybe they won't starve when I die in these games. Well, Peeta and Gale probably wouldn't let that happen anyway, but it's nice to know if they weren't there, Prim would still be taken care of.

Haymitch Abernathy decides this is the right time to come staggering across the stage and congratulate me. "Look at her. Look at this one!" he hollers, throwing an arm around my shoulders. I smell alcohol on his clothes, on his breath. It reeks and I almost gag and shove him off before remembering I am on national television.

He's surprisingly strong for such a wreck. "I like her! Lots of . . .  Spunk!" he says venemously. Is he criticizing me or complimenting me. I can't tell. "More than you!" he pushes away from me and I take a breath of fresh air. "More than you!" he shouts, pointing up to a camera lens perched on top of the bakery.

I just have time to think he might be criticizing the Capital before he swan dives off the stage and falls unconscious. I manage not to laugh, but I know I have a slight smirk on my face at seeing the ridiculous District 12 victor fall right off the stage. We are making it to the highlight reel this year.

Haymitch is carted away and Effie Trinket looks a little flustered, her wig sitting seriously crooked on her head. I wonder if she is bald under the great mass of pink hair.