the untold tale (A Gale Hawthorne story)

CHAPTER 3

We eat a small lunch of tesserae bread and strawberries, saving the rest for tonight. No one speaks.

At one o'clock, we head for the square. People arrive and quietly sign in.

I take a deep breath. This is it. Twelve-year-olds are herded in the back, while the eighteen-year-olds -the last year of eligibility- are up in the front. I hold Rory and tell him not to worry. That he's got only one slip in. Rory gives me a terse nod, trying hard to keep his face blank. I run my fingers through his hair one last time.

***

I stand next to Thom and stare at the boys' ball. Forty-two of those slips have my name and one with Rory's. In the girls' ball twenty slips have Catnip's name and one with Prim's written clearly.

At the stage sit Mayor Under See and Effie Trinket in her stupid pink- green suit, leaving a chair empty. For who? For Haymitch Abernathy, the sole Victor of district 12. A pure drunkard.

Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps forward and begins to reap the History of Panem. The same old story every year. How the Districts rebel. How they were defeated with District 13 burnt to the ground and, how the Treaty of Treason gave safety and new rules so you could starve to death in safety. Of course, he doesn't mention that.

I stare at the balls, not paying attention. Hoping against hope that worst shouldn't happen.

It isn't until Thom shakes me that I realize what's happening on stage.

Haymitch Abernathy appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers on the stage, and falls into the third chair. He's drunk. Very. The crowd responds with its token applause, but he's confused and tries to give Effie's Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to, fend off.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughing stock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.

Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds ever be in your favour!" Effie tries to look unharmed and everyone tries to act as if nothing happened, and I couldn't hold back I smile.

I turn back and see Catnip's eyes. She locks her gaze on mine. I know Katniss so well that I can see the fear in her blank face. I wish I could tell her not to worry. I turn around remembering all those slips.

Its time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does," Ladies first!" and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls of a sip of paper desperately hope that it's not Katniss. Not her, please, not her.

Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and read out the name in a clear voice. And it's not her.

It's Prim, Primrose Everdeen.