Chapter Text
Through the crowd, I spot Gale looking back at me with a ghost of a smile. As reapings go, this one at least has a slight entertainment factor. But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor. Not compared to a lot of the boys. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away.
“But there are still thousands of slips,”
I wish I could whisper to him.
It’s 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 out a slip of paper.
Her fuscia claws don't seem much good for anything, and the piece of paper falls from her manicured clutches.
She huffs, this is not going to plan.
But she recovers herself and practically skewers another slip on one of her candy coloured talons.
The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I’m feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it’s not me, that it’s not me, that it’s not me. Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice.
And it’s not me.
It’s Madge.