Inferno

Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games

Chapter 1

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I watch Effie Trinket's delicate hand wind its way into the glass ball that holds the names of all of District 12's girls. Please don't be me, please don't be me, I repeat tediously in my head as a small slip of paper is carefully chosen from the ball and pulled out. Effie takes her time unfolding the paper and smoothing it out.

"Primrose Everdeen," she calls out in her Capitol accent. I blink.

The crowd tuts and mutters the way they always do when a twelve year old's name is called out. It's hardly fair to put a twelve year old in an arena against eighteen year olds and expect them to fight each other. In addition to being unfair, it's cruel and sick and disgusting.

Falling. I think I'm falling and a boy from the Seam catches me before I actually hit the ground. My mind is blank and my eyes are unfocused as I straighten myself up hastily. I'm completely rigid as I watch Prim walk stiffly towards the stage, her hands balled into tiny fists at her side and her face drained of color. I can hardly breath, and the shock of hearing Prim's name doesn't wear off for a few minutes.

Her name was only in once. How could this happen? I did everything in my power to make sure this didn't happen.

The odds are certainly not in my favor.

I am brought back to life when I see Prim's blouse become untucked from her skirt, and the familiar motion snaps me out of my daze.

"Prim!" I scream. To her credit, Prim completely ignores me and walks on. "Prim!" Another strangled cry escapes my throat.

I push my way out of the crowd of sixteen year olds and as soon as I'm out, I hoarsely call out, "I volunteer."

Only the people standing around me hear my cry, and their eyes widen, and I know they I'm crazy. No one in their right mind would seal their fate by willingly going into the Hunger Games. But this is my little sister, and although Prim has determination and spirit, those things can't keep you alive in the arena. I walk a little faster until I'm behind Prim, and I grab her hand and pull her behind me. "I volunteer as tribute!" I call out. My voice comes out steadier than I expected. Everyone hears me this time.

There's a collective gasp from the crowd and Effie Trinket pauses, for once at a loss for words. The whole volunteering protocol is a bit rusty in our district, since no one has volunteered for decades. The rule is that when a boy's name is read, another boy can volunteer to take his place, and a girl can take the place of another girl whose name has been read.

"Well, I'm not sure if you can do that quite yet-" Effie starts, but is interrupted by the mayor.

"What does it matter?" the mayor speaks gruffly, looking at me with sadness clear in his eyes. He doesn't know me very well, but I know he recognizes me as his daughter's companion at school and the girl who sells him strawberries.

"What does it matter?" he repeats. "Let her come forward."

I walk up the steps to the stage as calmly as I can, given the circumstances. I try to keep my expression as placid as possible while Prim screams hysterically and reaches for me. Her frail arms lock around my waist.

"Let go!" I hiss harshly, even though it breaks my heart. "Go away, Prim!"

Her tiny hands are suddenly lifted off of me, and I involuntarily glance back to see Gale pry her off with a pained expression. "Up you go Catnip," he says in a wavering voice. Prim continues to cry and scream. I try to smile reassuringly at both of them, but I just end up twitching my lips instead.

"What's your name?" Effie Trinket asks me as soon as I reach the stage.

"Katniss Everdeen," I manage to gasp.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do you? Let's give a round of applause to our newest tribute!" she exclaims, her pink hair bobbing.

Silence. The citizens of District 12 are all silent. We do not approve, they say, we do not condone. Effie squirms a bit. This is not the reaction she expected.

One by one, almost everyone touches three fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old gesture for showing admiration, for saying good-bye to a loved one. I blink back tears. I don't know what I did to deserve this gesture. Maybe it was because these people had met Prim or knew my parents. I myself don't know many of District 12's residents, because my hostile and sullen attitude doesn't tend to endear people to me.

Effie, not wanting to lose control of the situation, quickly reaches into the boy's bowl of names with long, manicured nails, and the cameras are all hungrily trained on her, eagerly awaiting to see which unlucky boy will get chosen.

I take the chance to try to compose myself. Everyone will be watching the replays of the reapings in the evening, and they'll be analyzing every tribute. The last thing I want to appear as is a weakling, because no one will bet on and sponsor a weakling.

Deep breaths, I tell myself, deep breaths. I don't think my advice helps me much, because I begin to feel slightly dizzy and nauseous.

"Peeta Mellark!" Effie sqeuals in a ridiculously cheery voice as soon as she has picked out a slip of paper. She is met by more unsettling silence from the crowd.

My heart sinks as I register the name. The baker's son. Why him? I think. Peeta Mellark had saved my life a long time ago, so long ago that he'd probably already forgotten the incident. But I haven't forgotten, and I don't want to be turned against him in the Games. I can see Peeta walking through the crowd robotically. He's making an effort to conceal his emotions, but his eyes betray him and his jaw twitches. There's a vulnerable look to him I've seen so often in prey.

I hear a series of thuds as he climbs up the steps, and he walks towards the center of the stage, across from where I am standing. I can feel his gaze on me, but I don't glance back at him in case I actually lose it at the sight of him.

I stare straight ahead into the stubbornly silent crowd, and out of the corner of my eye I watch the outskirts of the square where Prim, my mother, and Gale's family are standing in a small bunch.

I can just make out Prim's small figure locked tightly in my mother's frail arms. Both of Gale's brothers look like they are trying to sooth Prim, and Hazelle is standing a bit off to the side, with what I assume is Posy in her arms. Gale is probably already back in the eighteen year old boys' section. I scan the eighteen year olds' section, but it's too far away and there's too many dark heads crowded together for me to make out any individuals.

"Any volunteers?" Effie Trinket asks from behind me. Her voice is still high and cheerful, but there's no hopefulness in it. Two volunteers in one reaping is too much to ask of District 12.

That's when I spot Gale bobbing through the crowd. Some people are trying to stop his progress while others just get out of his way.

"I volunteer," Gale says, his voice slightly muffled.

He wouldn't.

Foolishly, I hope that I'm the only one who's heard him, and I can see someone trying to pull him back.

Unfortunately, though, Effie seems to have incredible listening skills and she asks cautiously, "Did I hear someone volunteer?"

Gale breaks free from whoever was holding him back, another tall boy from the Seam that he probably knows from school. "I volunteer," he says clearly.

No.

Effie looks shocked and giddy. "How terribly exciting! Two voluteers in one day? Unheard of! This looks like a good year for District 12!" She pauses, waiting for applause that never comes.

Gale walks briskly towards the stage, climbing the steps easily. Two Peacekeepers drag Peeta away, who is protesting against Gale volunteering. "Don't go, Gale. You and Katniss, you know what's going to happen," he says wildly. Anyone else would've gratefully bolted off of the stage, and yet Peeta tries to hold his ground.

I barely know Peeta, so why is he trying to spare me the pain of going into the Games with Gale?

Peeta's words don't make any sense to Effie, but most of District 12 probably understands his message. Everyone knows Gale and I are close, close enough for girls to shoot me glares at school, even though we're not that kind of close. One is not complete without the other.

Only one person makes it home from the Hunger Games, and there's a good chance it'll be neither Gale or me, and if the odds are somehow in our favor, which seems increasingly unlikely, only one of us will come home. I try to imagine life without Gale, which only makes the pounding in my head increase until I think it will burst.

"Gale, don't," I say hoarsely, once he's close enough to hear what I'm saying. I would like to chuck him off of the stage for doing something so stupid, but I settle for digging my nails into his wrist. If Gale feels any pain, he doesn't show it and ignores me.

"Peeta, move," he says gruffly.

"But-" Peeta argues, only to be cut off by Effie.

"Well honey, this young man here did volunteer, so I'm afraid you have no choice but to leave. Maybe you'll get chosen next year," she says apologetically, flashing Peeta a smile, like the Games are some sort of honor he hasn't earned yet. I scowl. The two Peacekeepers holding Peeta manage to get him off of the stage.

Satisfied, Effie turns to Gale."What's your name, young man?"

"Gale Hawthorne," Gale tells her, and I wince at this tone of voice. It may sound confident to everyone else, but I can hear the masked anger and hate.

"No," I say feebly, barely audible to even myself. What am I saying no to? I don't know. Maybe I'm saying no to Gale volunteering, or Prim being reaped, or the Games in general.

Gale plants himself firmly by my side, and reaches for my hand. Too numb to protest, I let his hand grip mine. I quickly glance up to see his expression, and I see anger burning so fiercely in his eyes that it startles me and I look out into the crowd again, although I don't know what else to expect. Gale's been a rebel since birth, and today's events only fueled his fire.

"Well, there you have it! Gale Hawthorne and Katniss Everdeen, the tributes for the 74th Hunger Games," Effie practically shouts, trying to get a positive reaction out of District 12's citizens.

Haymitch Abernathy decides that this is the moment to appear on stage and embarrass himself. He staggers out of his chair and towards Gale and me. He drapes one arm around me, and the old drunk is clutching a bottle of liquor in the other hand, which he slings across Gale's neck like they're best buddies. Gale and I both visibly flinch at the contact.

"Look at them!" Haymitch yells. "They have more... spunk! More spunk!" He hollers triumphantly, seeming proud of finding the right word.

He looks directly into a camera and points at it as he says ,"More than you. More than you!" I can't tell if he's taunting the audience or Capitol, and I can't bring myself to care. Haymitch is supposed to be our mentor for the Games, but I can't see how he'll be able to help.

Haymitch's words seem to break the spell cast over District 12. People are suddenly rowdy and yelling. Obscenities are thrown into the air and directed at cameras and Effie Trinket herself. Mayor Undersee stands up, knowing what this could lead to. He rushes to the microphone. "Citizens! Ladies and gentlemen! Please quiet down, or there will be consequences."

The mayor lets the words 'consequences' hang in the air, to get his message across. You may be punished for this, he's saying silently. No one seems to care and someone starts chanting. "Bring them back! Bring them back!"

A few more people surrounding the man join in, and then some more people join, and soon most of the town square is chanting.

"Bring them back!" they all say in unison, sending a message to the Capitol. A simple phrase, but it means so much. They're not just talking about Gale and me, the crowd is talking about all of the children we've lost to the Capitol, all of the lives that have been shattered because of the Games.

Gale releases my hand from his grasp and instead wraps an arm around my upper waist protectively. I don't care much at the moment because my head is spinning faster and faster and I can barely comprehend what is happening around us.

Peacekeepers that were bordering the town square suddenly close in on the crowd, pushing everyone into the center of the square. People keep chanting, not paying attention to the Peacekeepers. I can't remember the last time District 12 showed this much defiance, this much courage.

Only when bullets are fired into the air does the chanting cease. My eyes widen and I can vaguely hear myself screaming for Prim as I watch people running and yelling. Gale has my hand in a death grip, supporting me with his other arm when my knees weaken. The crowd is in a frenzy with everyone running in all directions. People dive into nearby shops and houses, seeking cover.

Effie Trinket is frozen at the microphone, her mouth opening and closing as if she can't decide what to say. The situation is beyond her reach, and I'll bet it confuses her. In her eyes, the Games are an extravaganza, an honor that everyone should be excited about.

I don't think anyone's ever seen a reaping like this one.

The bullets stop after a few moments, and Gale and I are led towards the Justice Building by Peacekeepers, where we can say our final goodbyes. We don't get to see what becomes of the crowd, and I'm not able to turn around because a Peacekeeper stands behind me, prodding my back with a gun.

I look over at Gale and his expression is unreadable. His arm falls from my waist, but I catch his hand with my own sweaty one, needing something to anchor me.

I know this type of story is becoming more and more overused, but I just wanted to give it a shot :)

Thanks for reading everyone :D

Reviews are appreciated ;)