The Capitol's Tribute

I knew he’d be out there even though it was Saturday and he only got Sundays off. Today was the Reaping. No one was working in the mines. He wouldn’t be home either, too much anxiety and the unconscious need to supply his family with food and money. Yes, Gale would be in the forest. I just hoped his usual hunting companion would be absent.

I crept under the familiar fence that halfheartedly caged us in to District 12. With the heightened senses Gale had when wandering the forest, I knew he would find me in no time. I picked up a slender walking stick and began to drag it behind me to make my presence more pronounced. Gale would find me, no problem.

My sandal found a large pile of dry leaves and an arrow found my head.

“You should really be stealthier.” A deeply amused voice said. My eyes crossed, trying to stare down the deadly metal tip of Gale’s arrow. I shoved it to the side, getting a better look at him. Gale looked basically the same as he had the year before, maybe more pronounced dark circles around his eyes and a sterner look to his handsome, tan skin. He looked like most people from the Seam: grey eyes, black hair, and skinny from lack of food. Gale was better built then most, having been athletic from hunting his whole life, but he was starved in comparison to Capitol citizens.

Gale smiled, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. “Rixa Hart. What a sight for sore eyes.”

I grinned back, engulfing him in a hug. “Gale,” I muttered into his old, brown shirt. “You look awful.” I laughed, taking a step back to really get a look at him. His face was tanner than usual. It was still covered the coal dust that filled the mines. His old clothes were ripped and torn and his usually clean cut appearance had turned a bit shaggy. A five o’clock shadow had risen on his face. Over his left shoulder was his trusted bow; on the right was his most recent kill: three squirrels.

“Can’t all be privileged Capitol members, can we?” I knew he meant it as a joke but I could hear the disdain and bitterness in his voice.

“Guess not,” I answered, brushing it off. I was used to Gale’s open hatred for the Capitol. He wasn’t saying things to hurt me, he was doing the only thing he could in this shit filled world we lived in, harshly speak his mind in private.

“Is it Reaping day already?” Gale asked unnaturally calm.

“No,” I said, “Just stopped by for a nice visit.”

Gale’s thin lips twitched upwards, “If only.”

I frowned. Gale had been talking to Brant. “You two been conspiring against me?”

“Would we do something like that?”

“Yes,” I nodded, kicking a pile dirt. A rock got caught under my foot, trapping itself in my strappy sandal. “Ow!” I flinched at the pain. I was never any good with pain.

With an exasperated sigh, Gale dropped his hunting supplies. He sat me down like I was some helpless child. “Gale,” I muttered, feeling stupid. “It’s a rock in my shoe, not an arrow through my neck.”

“Shut it,” He said gruffly, taking off my shoe with simple swift movements of his fingers. All those snares had given him quick fingers. Gale examined the bottom of my foot now coated in dirt.

“Ma’s gonna kill me.” I said aloud, mostly to myself then Gale.

“We’ll clean you up so you’re Capitol perfect when the Reaping starts.” The spite was back. His eyes were red with anger, this time it was directed at me.

I grabbed Gale’s hand and tore it from my dirt clad foot. “Stop,” I commanded. “What has Brant been telling you?”

He took his hand back and tore off a piece of cloth from his fringing shirt. Placing it under my foot I realized it was bleeding. “Gale,” I tried again.

“He says that you’re running away from Peeta.” He spat angrily. “And I agree.”

I felt my face heat up. “Everyone’s so concerned about me and Peeta. It's like the Games all over again. I can understand my brother not getting it, but you, Gale?” I questioned fiercely, “You should know how I’m feeling better than anyone!” I wadded up the cloth he’d placed under my foot and threw it childishly to the ground.

Gale swallowed, his expression stony. “I do know how you feel. I live with the feeling everyday while you run around the Capitol, prostituting yourself.” His words were barely above a whisper but they hurt as much as if he was screaming them at me. It was like a slap in the face to hear Gale say something so horrible to me. “I just don’t run away like some foolish child. I face my problems head on and deal with the fact that Katniss is no longer mine.”

I could feel tears burning my eyes again but I blinked them back. “You’ve always been stronger, Gale.” I said quietly, biting my lip so hard that I could taste metal. “It’s different for you. Katniss was never really yours. You had no claim to her.”

“It doesn’t make the pain hurt any less.” He said calmly. We were in the same boat; there was no point in fighting over who was hurt more. Our hearts were crushed equally. I needed to stop acting like the victim. That’s what Gale was trying to tell me. He wasn’t a man of many words but I could always count on him to tell me the truth.

“Just say what you want to say.” I braced myself for the blow.

He took a moment, deciding wisely on his choice of words, “Stay.”

My dark brows furrowed at his response. “Why?”

Frowning, Gale squinted at the peaceful forest around us, “For me. So I’m not so alone.”

I took in a deep breath, glancing around the beautiful world outside the Capitol. Out here, it seemed like another world entirely. One where Peeta didn’t exist, where there were no Hunger Games, where Gale and I could live happily ever after.

“I’ve been lonely, too,” I said, glancing back at him. He was staring me down, awaiting my answer. “Is this your guys’ plan? Brant and you?”

Gale chuckled lightly, “You’re too smart for your own good. But it doesn’t make my words any less true.”

I nodded, “I know.”

He peered at me with his beautiful grey eyes. They reminded me of Peeta’s in a way. So heartfelt and determined. What I would give to look into those eyes again. I hadn’t spoken to Peeta since our time in the Justice Building after he was Reaped. That was so long ago but I still remembered everything about it. It was the last time I thought I was going to see him.

“I’ll stay as long as you don’t too emotional. You know how uncomfortable I get when you cry.” I mumbled, failing to suppress a smile. Gale genuinely brightened up for the first time since I’d last seen him. It had been a few months, I’d packed up before Peeta and Katniss had returned.

“I promise,” Gale answered, standing up abruptly, pulling something out of his shirt pocket. Strawberries. “I’m heading over to Madge’s. Wanna come?”

I nodded, picking up my shoe and placing it back on my naked foot. “If you don’t mind the company.”

“You’re always welcome to join me. We can make a lot more trips together now that you’re back. Maybe you’ll finally let me teach you how to hunt.” He said hopefully. I chuckled as we made our way back through the forest.

“I’m not going to kill some poor baby rabbit. I’ll come with you, but I’ll pass on the murdering.”

“Noted,” Gale smirked, pulling back the flap of fence, “Ladies first.” He put on a ridiculously high voice, mimicking the District 12 escort for the Hunger Games, Effie Trinket.

“Happy Hunger Games,” I muttered, pushing myself through the metal links and back into District 12.



Madge was over the moon to see me. She engulfed me in a hug and I joke about how she had won the warmest welcome.

“Well, I got you to stay, didn’t I?” Gale said smartly, crossing his toned arms over his chest.

“You’re staying?” Madge exclaimed, her blue eyes widening

“Nothings official,” I gave Gale a look that clearly meant to silence him. “I did sign a contract but I think I can ask for a longer break. I’ve earned it.”

Gale looked at me, wondering what it was exactly that I did at the Capitol. I called it entertaining. Sometimes it was. Other times it was keeping someone company. Finnick was the prostitute. I had refused to go that far.

“Oh, I hope you stay!” Madge pulled me into another hug. “I know they miss you.”

I stepped back, “Who?”

Madge looked at me like I was crazy, “Katniss. And Peeta.”

I stood there, feeling uncomfortable. I wished people would stop saying things like that. I’d heard enough about Peeta and Katniss.

“Well, you better get yourself presentable or Effie will loose her wig.” Gale cracked a smile, shoving me into Madge’s house. “Do clean her up; she made an awful mess of herself out in the forest. Terribly clumsy this one is.”

“Hey!” I argued but Gale was already running down Madge’s driveway, laughing. I hadn’t seen him this carefree since, well, ever.

Madge grabbed my hand, staring at my feet in disdain. “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit. Effie might actually lose her wig if I let you come to the Reaping like that. What color do you think it’ll be this year?” She wondered aloud, dragging me through her cozy home.



Madge and I walked quietly to the square together as the clock struck two. Almost everyone in town was there since it was a mandatory event. On the large wooden stage sat five people. Effie Trinket, our district’s escort, was dressed in the latest Capitol fashion, wearing a bright orange wig.

Peeta’s favorite color I thought shrewdly, wondering if Katniss even knew this about Peeta or knew anything about him before they fell so blissfully in love.

Madge’s father, Mayor Undersee, was on the podium, giving the annual Reaping speech, telling the history of Panem and the Dark Days (the uprising of the districts against the Capitol). Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated without survivors. The Treaty of Treason gave us these Hunger Games. They have simple rules: each district sends two tributes, one girl and one boy, and send them into an arena for the entertainment of the Capitol. The last tribute standing wins. This was the Capitol’s way of reminding the districts of our indiscretions, our rebellion. They make a sporting event out of it, forcing us to watch our loved ones kill or be killed. It’s sick and disturbing and I was probably one of the few Capitol citizens who were completely repulsed by it. But I guessed that was mostly because I was only half a Capitol citizen. My father was from District 12 after all.

Mayor Undersee spoke of how the winning tribute—or in our case, tributes—lived a rewarding life, never to starve or be unhappy again. He nodded to our winning tributes but I kept my eyes plastered on Effie’s outfit, reminding myself to ask her where she got her fabulous belt.

Haymitch Abernathy, the drunkard mentor that our losing district has had to put up with for so long, was surprisingly not as plastered as he usually was on Reaping day. And this year he was not alone. I knew Katniss and Peeta are on stage but I refused to give them the courtesy of my attention. They didn’t deserve it. It was childish, I knew that. But I sacrificed everything for the people I loved, to make sure they had food and a good home. I could be allowed this one thing.

Effie took the stage, self consciously adjusting her wig. “Hello, hello, hello! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

I glanced over at Gale as he stood with the rest of the elder residents of District 12, too old to be in the Reaping. A grimace held his handsome olive skinned face, his eyes narrowed at Rory. It was his second Reaping.

It didn’t take long for Gale to shift his gaze to me. He worried too much for his friends, for the people he loved. I smiled at him, trying to reassure him that I would be fine. The odds had always been in my favor, just like they had been in Gale’s. I’d lost count how many times his name had been entered in the Reaping. Oceilia’s words rung true in my mind; they wouldn’t send a Capitol citizen to the Games. I tried to tell this to Gale with only a smile for he was too far to speak directly to. He only rolled his eyes, annoyed with my stubbornness. But I could also see a glimmer of hope in his eyes like maybe things were going to get better for him as well as me. I nodded quickly, hoping that would be promise enough that I would do what I could to stay for him.

Effie pulled a giant glass ball closer, it was filled with all the names of children of District 12, ages eleven to eighteen. “And now, it’s time for the Reaping!” I guessed I had zoned out during her whole speech. “Ladies first!” She dug a perfectly manicured hand into the ball, shoveling around the papers until finding one she was satisfied with. Madge squeezed my hand; I can feel her sweating intensely. I didn’t even notice she had grabbed it.

With one last reassuring look at Gale, I squeezed Madge back and faced Effie. Everyone around me drew in a collective breath and Effie opened her mouth.

“Rixa H—” Effie stopped mid-sentence, her smiling face dropped, “Rixa Hart.” She finished in a strained, but clear voice.

And then there was a painful silence as no one volunteered to take my place.