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“And the female tribute for District Twelve is…” Drusilla pauses for effect, inspecting the slip of paper she’s extracted from the glass bowl, smirking before driving in the knife. “Lenore Dove Baird!”
Haymitch tries to keep a stoic expression, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment, but nothing can hide how his heart has just shattered into pieces. Lenore Dove, the girl he’s loved for years, has just received her death sentence. This was supposed to be their last year of this. They were going to be free — or as free as one can get while living in District Twelve. They’re both eighteen. Now, she probably won’t live to see her nineteenth.
Burdock and Blair try not to make it obvious that they’re looking at Haymitch, but he can feel them anyways. The flint striker tied around his neck presses down like a heavy weight. Even if Lenore Dove doesn’t make it out of the arena, at least he’ll have a piece of her with him.
As she makes her way towards the stage to join Drusilla, Lenore Dove keeps her head held high, jaw set, face blank. Refusing to give any reaction. Refusing to perform for the Capitol.
That’s my girl, he thinks, with a hint of a smirk.
Drusilla leans into the microphone at the podium, her smile wicked. “Wonderful! Congratulations, Lenore Baird.”
“Lenore Dove,” she immediately corrects the escort.
“Pardon?” Drusilla asks, surprised at the audacity of someone so beneath her having corrected her.
Lenore Dove turns her head from where she’s standing facing the District citizens. “My name is Lenore Dove,” she says slowly, as though she is talking to a toddler.
Drusilla’s lips tighten into a flat line, clearly trying to keep her composure and hold back from making a snarky comment on camera. The Capitol is watching, after all.
“Right,” she reluctantly replies through gritted teeth. She rolls her shoulders back, resetting herself. “And now for the boys.”
She quickly plucks a paper from the ball on the left of the podium. Haymitch braces himself and feels himself stop breathing. Either he’s going into the arena with the love of his life to die or he’ll be saying his final goodbye to her and watching her die on a screen.
“And the lucky gentleman to accompany Miss Baird is… Sid Abernathy!”
Haymitch’s eyes snap open as if he’d just been shot by Peacekeepers. Blair and Burdock tense beside him. This couldn’t be happening. Sid’s only twelve. This is his first year attending the Reaping as a potential tribute. His name is only in there once. He wasn’t supposed to get picked.
Haymitch looks to the screen to see the face of his little brother looking petrified. Time slows down. All Haymitch does is stare at the screen waiting for Sid to move. Then, to his left he sees Peacekeepers walk towards Sid, grabbing him roughly by his arm, dragging him forward, forcing him to make his way to the stage. As they reach the center makeshift aisle, Haymitch moves as if on autopilot, pushing his way through the boys in his section.
“Sid!” Haymitch cries out.
Sid turns his head to look at Haymitch, tears already streaming down his face. Sid somehow manages to break himself loose from the Peacekeepers’ grips and runs straight into Haymitch’s outstretched arms. They hug each other tight, Haymitch trying to shield Sid from the reality that faces them.
Suddenly, Haymitch feels his body being pulled back as one of the Peacekeepers grabs him. Two more grab Sid as well. “No! Wait!” he shouts. “Sid!”
Then he hears Ma’s voice in his mind.
Look after him.
This kicks Haymitch into gear, struggling against the Peacekeeper’s grip. “I volunteer!” Haymitch shouts, voice cracking with the fear and pain coursing through him. “I volunteer!”
The whole square appears at a standstill as people look at Haymitch with a mixture of emotions. Surprise, sadness, anxiety.
Haymitch shoves off the Peacekeeper, squaring himself. “I volunteer as tribute,” he projects, voice steadier now.
“Oh my, my!” Drusilla exclaims, seeming delighted by this ordeal. “What an interesting turn of events. District Twelve’s very first volunteer!” She pauses, as if expecting the crowd to applaud. “Well then, up you get!”
Haymitch takes a deep breath, turning towards Sid giving him another tight hug. As he releases him, he kneels so they’re eye level. “It’s okay now. You’re safe, alright?” He ruffles Sid’s hair, who doesn’t protest this time. “Go find Ma, okay, Sid?”
Sid starts to cry again, shaking his head.
“Sid, please,” Haymitch pleads with desperation. “You have to go find Ma. You’ll be okay, I promise!”
Blair comes up behind Sid, picking him up easily, and starts carrying him away.
“No!” Sid tries, and fails, to fight his way out of Blair’s grip, but he holds firm. “No! No, Haymitch!”
Haymitch stands up, pressing his hands down to smooth the front of his shirt as best as he can, before being guided to the stage by Peacekeepers. His thoughts tumble around in his head like rocks in a tin can. What just happened? What’s happening now? Somewhere deep down, Haymitch knows. He knows he’s a tribute in the Hunger Games. He’ll either die trying to protect Lenore Dove, or they’ll die together wrapped in each others’ arms.
It’s almost poetic. Almost.
Haymitch slowly ascends the stairs, joining Drusilla at her side, who tentatively wraps an arm around him when he’s close enough. Her dead-fish breath hits him as she speaks into the microphone right at her lips. “And what’s your name?”
His voice sounds alien as it leaves his lips. “Haymitch Abernathy.”
“Oh, lovely!” she announces. “Volunteering for his little brother. This is quite the tale!”
She is met with silence. Unfazed, she keeps the fake smile plastered onto her face.
“Ladies and gentlemen, join me in welcoming the District Twelve tributes of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games!” Drusilla acknowledges the tributes. “And may the odds be EVER in your favor!” She begins to clap, only feeling slightly awkward when no one joins in. Instead, slowly, everyone presses the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then extend it to their dead. Their way of saying goodbye to those they cherish.
No one in Twelve has won the Games. This will be the last time they see them.
Drusilla spreads her arms wide. “Happy Hunger Games, everybody!”
Haymitch turns his head to Lenore dove, who is already looking at him. Nothing but her lips move, forming the words silently that they both know in their hearts. I love you like all-fire. He mouths back, You, too.
It is in that moment that Haymitch makes a promise to himself. He will keep Lenore Dove safe until they’re the last two tributes left. He will do anything in his power to make sure she wins.