Gale's Window

Chapter 2: Summer

Three months ago I was standing, along with most of the population of District 12, in the town square. Three large screens had been set up in front of the justice building. Once again, we were being forced to watch, helplessly, as our loved ones were paraded in front of the Capitol's elite.

This time was different, though. For the first time in Panem's history, the tributes on our screens weren't small, terrified children. Some of them were strong, determined, vicious looking adults.

The crowd stood still as the screens reflected chariot after chariot of well-known faces. There were the typical Career types, looking well-fed, strong and cold-blooded, clearly ready to go back into battle. There were others, who looked painfully damaged or weak, and some that were simply shocked. Going back to an arena had never been part of their plan.

As the last chariot came into view, the crowd held a collective breath. The tributes from District 12 were, once again, making a grand entrance. Just like the previous year, their costumes represented the district's trade but, where last year we had seen wild, untamed flames, this year we saw the warm, and steady glow of embers. Cinna had decided to show the world the kind of heat that refuses to die.

My heart started beating furiously as Katniss and Peeta went around the City Circle, their hands were tightly intertwined, their heads held high.

The fierce determination in Peeta's eyes burnt a hole through my chest. The shy boy who had once held my girl's hand was long gone; he'd been replaced by a strong, determined man who was ready to go into battle.

I knew, without a doubt, that if I ever saw Katniss again, it would be because of him. He hadn't volunteered to go into that arena expecting to survive. He just wanted to keep her safe. I had to admit that the hatred I'd once felt towards the baker's son had gradually turned into respect over the course of the last few months.

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I remember the impotence I felt as President Snow read the card for the Quarter Quell. As soon as the announcement was over I rushed over to Catnip's house. I couldn't believe she was being sent back into an arena. Was this what she had been so afraid of? Was this how the president had chosen to punish her? To punish them?

A cold chill ran down my spine as I thought about the three victors on the main square, standing between Thread's whip and my bloody back. That act of defiance was probably one of the reasons why President Snow wanted them gone.

The familiar heat of anger enveloped my chest as I remembered how I'd called her a coward and criticized her for not wanting to fight. Well, she'd fought. She'd fought against the local authorities to save my life and, how was she being paid for it? With a second trip into an arena.

Suddenly, I realized the Quarter Quell was still months away. We could still do something. We could still run. By the time I found her, she was drunk and defeated. I knew the electric fence had been turned on, but I just wanted to grab her and run away.

She said running was no longer an option. She had given up. The notion broke my heart, but I couldn't really blame her. The last months had been a harsh and constant reminder of the Capitol's hold on our lives. Stricter security, which had resulted in whippings and imprisonment for some of the people we dealt with every day; a steady flow of electricity on the district's electrified fence; spoiled food on parcel day; longer working hours in the mines, and hunger. Endless hunger.

People were starving, and the Capitol still had the upper hand. President Snow's message had been very clear, "Even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol."