Reaping Day dawned with the same oppressive stillness that always seemed to blanket District 12 on this day.
No birds sang. No wind stirred the coal dust that perpetually coated our world. It was as if Panem itself was holding its breath, waiting for the names that would condemn two more children to the Capitol's entertainment.
I rose before dawn, unable to bear the restless tossing any longer.
My reflection in the small mirror showed subtle dark circles under my eyes, but also a determined set to my jaw that seemed more Jake Thompson than Jake Carter. Weeks of extra training had added muscle definition to my already strong shoulders and arms.
If it came to it—if my name was called—I wouldn't be helpless.
The pendant my father had made hung from my neck—a miniature hammer, exquisitely crafted with our family's blacksmith mark etched into the handle. A token to take into the arena, if the worst happened.
Our house was quiet as I slipped outside, but I knew no one was truly sleeping.
Reaping Day anxiety affected every family with eligible children, stealing rest and appetite alike.
The streets were empty as I began my now-usual morning run, pushing myself harder than before, as if the extra exertion might somehow change whatever was already decided. My route took me near the nicer part of town, and I found myself slowing as I passed Mayor Undersee's house.
It was easily the finest home in District 12, with its clean white paint and actual glass windows. The mayor's daughter, Madge, would be inside, preparing for the Reaping like the rest of us, though with far fewer entries in the bowl than most. She'd never needed tesserae, being the mayor's only child. Her odds of being chosen were astronomically small.
Jake had spoken to Madge occasionally over the years—she was quiet, studious, known mostly for being the mayor's daughter and sometimes friend to Katniss Everdeen. In Jake Thompson's memories, I found polite interactions with her but no real connection. Though I heard, she was the one who gave the mockingjay pin to Katniss in the books. And from the memories, her aunt was picked for the 50th Hunger Games with Haymitch.
I shook away the thoughts and continued my run. The odds were overwhelmingly in Madge's favor today. With Prim's name being picked.
Mine... less so, after catching the Capitol's eye at the Victor's Tour.
Back home, my family was awake, going through the motions of a normal breakfast though none of us had much appetite. Lily was subdued, old enough to understand the gravity of the day even if she couldn't fully comprehend what the Games really meant.
"You should eat," my mother urged, pushing a plate of eggs toward me. "Keep your strength up."
For the arena, she didn't say. But we all heard it.
I forced myself to eat, knowing she was right. If the worst happened, this might be my last home-cooked meal for weeks—or ever.
At one o'clock, we dressed in our Reaping clothes—the same outfit I'd worn for the Victor's Tour, now carrying much heavier significance. My father adjusted my collar while my mother brushed invisible lint from my shoulders, these small gestures their way of maintaining control in an uncontrollable situation.
The walk to the square was silent, each family in District 12 forming solemn processions converging on the center of town. Peacekeepers lined the streets, their white uniforms stark against the gray buildings.
"I'll take Lily to the family section," my mother said as we approached the check-in area. She hugged me tightly, whispering, "Be brave," before pulling away with suspiciously bright eyes.
My father clasped my shoulder, words failing him entirely.
I joined the line of teenagers waiting to register, the process of finger-pricking and identification as grim and efficient as I remembered from the movie. Then I took my place in the seventeen-year-old boys' section, scanning the crowd for familiar faces.
Peeta stood a few rows ahead, his broad shoulders tense beneath his good shirt. In the girls' section across the aisle, I spotted Katniss, her dark braid hanging down her back, eyes already fixed on the younger girls' section where Prim stood in her first Reaping outfit.
Near the front of the girls' section, Madge Undersee stood alone in a simple, pretty white dress, her blonde hair tied back with a matching ribbon. She looked pale but composed, hands clasped tightly in front of her. On stage, Mayor Undersee seemed to be struggling to maintain his official demeanor, his eyes constantly drifting to his daughter.
The clock struck two, and the mayor stepped to the podium. As he began the annual recitation of Panem's history—the disasters, the uprising, the Treaty of Treason that created the Hunger Games—I found myself looking at the three chairs behind him.
Two were occupied—one by Effie Trinket in her garish pink wig, looking as out of place in our coal-dusted district as a tropical bird in a snowstorm. The other by Haymitch Abernathy, District 12's only living victor, already visibly drunk and disheveled.
Would I be a tribute? Would these be my mentors in a few hours? Would I be on a train to the Capitol by nightfall?
Mayor Undersee introduced Effie Trinket, and she pranced to the microphone with disturbing enthusiasm.
"Happy Hunger Games!" she trilled in her Capitol accent. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
The familiar phrase sent a chill down my spine. I'd heard it as entertainment once, had even quoted it jokingly with friends while watching the movies. Now it was directed at me, at all of us standing in our roped-off sections, waiting to see who would be sacrificed this year.
"Ladies first!" Effie announced, crossing to the glass ball containing the girls' names.
I held my breath, expecting to hear Primrose Everdeen's name, followed by Katniss's desperate volunteer. That was how the story was supposed to go.
Effie's hand dipped into the ball, swirled dramatically, and pulled out a slip of paper. The entire district seemed to inhale collectively as she returned to the microphone, unfolded the slip, and read clearly:
"Margaret Undersee!"
A shock ran through the crowd.
Madge? The mayor's daughter?
I turned rigid.
This wasn't right. T-This wasn't how the story went.
When I was having a mental breakdown, on stage, Mayor Undersee half-rose from his seat, face drained of all color.
Madge herself stood frozen in place, her composed expression shattered by genuine shock.
The crowd parted silently as she made her way to the stage.
No one volunteered. Of course they didn't—who would volunteer for the mayor's privileged daughter?
I watched in disbelief as Madge mounted the steps, her white dress gleaming in the sunlight. She looked like a ghost, pale and insubstantial against the dark Justice Building behind her.
What about… Katniss? The spark. The rebellion. What now?!
"Well, isn't this exciting!" Effie gushed, oblivious to the stunned atmosphere. "The mayor's own daughter! How wonderful!"
Mayor Undersee looked as though he might collapse. I can't blame him. I think I might collapse too.
"And now for the boys!" Effie continued, moving to the second glass ball.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Effie's hand plunged into the glass ball, digging deep before extracting a single slip. The sound of her heels clicking back to the microphone was deafening in the silence.
She smoothed the paper slip and read the name clearly:
"Jake Thompson!"
Despite all my preparations, all my suspicions, hearing my name actually called sent a wave of vertigo through me. I'd known this was likely coming, but the reality still hit like a punch in the face.
For a moment, I couldn't move. Then I felt eyes on me, the crowd parting slightly as people turned to stare.
"Jake!" Lily's scream cut through the silence, high and terrified. "No! JAKE!"
I turned to see her breaking away from my mother, her small body darting through the crowd toward me. The same protective instinct that had caught the Capitol's attention now surged again. I moved toward her, catching her as she flung herself against me.
"You can't go!" she sobbed, clinging to my waist. "You promised! You promised you wouldn't leave me!"
Peacekeepers were already moving in our direction. I knelt quickly, meeting her tear-streaked face.
"Lily, listen to me," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the cameras I knew were capturing this moment. "I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me? Can you be brave and take care of Mom and Dad?"
She shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. "No! I don't want you to go!"
The Peacekeepers reached us, moving to separate us forcibly.
"Don't touch her," I said sharply, rising to my full height and positioning myself between them and Lily. For a moment, it seemed they might drag us both away, but then my father appeared, gently pulling Lily back.
"It's time, son," he said, his voice breaking slightly.
I nodded, straightening my shoulders and turning toward the stage. As I walked, I could hear Lily's sobs behind me, each one like a knife to my heart. My foot hit the first step to the stage, and I looked up to find Madge watching me, her blue eyes wide with the same shock and fear I felt.
"Well!" Effie Trinket said, her cheerfulness now strained. "Come along, dear!"
I joined them on stage, standing beside Madge as Effie introduced us again with flourish.
"The tributes from District 12—Margaret Undersee and Jake Thompson!"
Mayor Undersee, as white as his daughter's dress, rose shakily to read the Treaty of Treason, though his voice trembled so badly that parts were nearly incomprehensible.
"Shake hands, you two," Effie instructed when he finished.
I turned to Madge, extending my hand. Her fingers felt ice-cold as they gripped mine. Up close, I could see she was fighting back tears, her chin raised in a show of dignity that couldn't quite mask her terror.
We were hustled into the Justice Building, each led to separate rooms for our goodbyes. The room they placed me in was the richest I'd seen in District 12—plush carpets, velvet-covered furniture, thick curtains.
I paced the small space, trying to process how drastically the story had changed.
Madge Undersee instead of Katniss Everdeen. The quiet, privileged mayor's daughter instead of the fierce hunter from the Seam. What did this mean for the rebellion? For the future of Panem?
The door burst open, and my family rushed in—mother, father, and Lily, her face still streaked with tears.
Lily flung herself into my arms again, sobbing. "You promised you wouldn't go away!"
"No, squirt," I corrected gently, kneeling to her level. "I promised I'd try to come back. And I will."
My mother embraced us both, her body trembling. "You can win," she whispered fiercely. "You're strong, you're smart, and you know more about surviving than they realize."
My father joined our huddle, his strong arms encircling all of us. "Remember everything we've taught you these past weeks," he said, voice rough with emotion. "And remember what I told you about the Careers—they're trained, but they're arrogant. They make mistakes."
I nodded, absorbing their advice, their love, their fear.
"The hammer," my mother said, touching the pendant still hanging around my neck. "Keep it with you in the arena. A piece of home."
"I will," I promised.
"Come back to us," Lily pleaded, her small face serious beyond her years. "You have to come back."
"I'll try my best," I said, unable to promise more. "And Lily? I need you to be brave while I'm gone. Help Mom and Dad. Can you do that for me?"
She nodded solemnly, straightening her shoulders in an unconscious imitation of my stance.
My father pulled something from his pocket—a small pouch. "Your mother prepared this," he said, pressing it into my hand. "Hide it in your clothes if you can. Basic medical supplies. Might help in the arena."
I tucked it away, knowing the Gamemakers would likely find and confiscate it before the Games began, but touched by the gesture nonetheless.
"Time's up," a Peacekeeper announced from the doorway.
"No!" Lily cried, clinging tighter to me.
My father gently pried her away. "We have to go, Lily-flower. Jake needs to prepare now."
My mother cupped my face in her hands, her eyes boring into mine. "You can win," she repeated. "You're not alone in there. Remember that. We love you."
With a final desperate embrace, they were ushered out, Lily's sobs echoing down the hallway as the door closed behind them.
I sank onto the velvet couch, emotionally drained. I'd expected to be chosen, had prepared for it, yet the reality was still overwhelming—especially with the unexpected change in the female tribute.
To my surprise, the door opened again minutes later. I expected perhaps Peeta, coming to offer encouragement or farewells.
Instead, Mayor Undersee himself entered, his face ravaged with grief and desperation.
"Mr. Mayor," I said, rising awkwardly.
He waved me back to my seat, then sat heavily beside me, staring at his trembling hands.
"I knew..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I knew when they took interest in you at the Tour that something might happen. But Madge..." He shook his head, unable to continue.
"I'm sorry, sir," I said, not knowing what else to offer.
"She has no chance," he said, the words spilling out now. "My Madge, my beautiful girl. She's smart, yes, but she's never had to fight, never gone hungry, never..." He looked up at me, his eyes wild with a father's desperation. "She won't survive the first day."
I started to say something reassuring, but he gripped my arm suddenly, his fingers digging in with surprising strength.
"When it comes down to it," he said, his voice breaking, "when it's just the two of you, or she's suffering... I beg you, show her mercy. Make it quick. Don't let her suffer more than she has to."
The request stunned me—this father asking me to kill his daughter humanely when the time came. It was both horrifying and heartbreakingly rational.
"Mr. Undersee," I began carefully, trying not to choke on emotions.
"Please," he begged, tears now streaming down his face. "I know it's an impossible thing to ask, but she's my only child. My little girl. If someone has to... I'd rather it be someone who might care enough to make it painless."
I stared at him, this broken man begging for his daughter's merciful death, and made a decision that surprised even me.
"I won't kill Madge," I said firmly.
His head snapped up, confusion replacing grief for a moment.
"I won't kill her," I repeated. "I'll protect her."
"You can't both survive," he said, shaking his head.
"Maybe not," I agreed, though I knew differently. "But I can make sure she makes it as far as possible. I can teach her, protect her, keep her alive."
"Why… would you do that?" he asked, genuine bewilderment in his voice.
I thought of Peeta's devotion to Katniss in the original timeline, how he'd been willing to die to ensure her victory. I thought of my knowledge of how the Games could end with two victors, if played correctly.
"Because it's the right thing to do," I said simply. "And because no father should have to beg for his daughter's merciful death."
He stared at me, searching my face for deceit and finding none.
"You're serious," he said finally, something like hope flickering in his eyes.
"I am," I confirmed. "I'll do everything in my power to keep Madge alive. That's my promise to you."
For a moment, I thought he might collapse in relief. Instead, he straightened, suddenly looking more like the official I'd seen presiding over district events.
"Then I have something for you," he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small velvet pouch. "For your token."
"I already have one," I said, touching the hammer pendant at my neck.
"Keep that too," he said. "But take this as well. It might... help both of you."
Curious, I opened the pouch and tipped the contents into my palm. It was a gold pin—a small bird in flight, enclosed in a circle. The mockingjay pin. The symbol Madge had given to Katniss.
"It was my sister-in-law's," Mayor Undersee said quietly. "She died in the Games many years ago. It's supposed to bring protection. Madge has one just like it."
I closed my fingers around the pin, the weight of its significance heavy in my hand. "Thank you. I'll keep it safe."
"Time," called the Peacekeeper from the door.
The mayor stood, composing himself with visible effort.
"Mr. Thompson," he said formally, though his voice still trembled slightly, "District 12 is counting on you."
I nodded, understanding what he couldn't say openly. This wasn't just about Madge anymore. It was about all of us.
As he left, I examined the mockingjay pin more closely. In the original story, this symbol had launched a revolution. Now it was in my hands instead of Katniss Everdeen's, the timeline irrevocably altered.
I had no more visitors. When the Peacekeepers finally came to escort me to the waiting car, I found Madge already there, her face composed but her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Effie Trinket sat between us, chattering about the honor we'd been given and the wonders that awaited us in the Capitol.
As the car pulled away from the Justice Building, I caught a final glimpse of District 12—the dusty square, the worn buildings, the coal-streaked faces of people returning to their homes, relieved that their children had been spared for another year.
My gaze met Madge's across Effie's elaborate pink wig. Her blue eyes were still frightened, but something else showed there too—a quiet determination that I hadn't expected.
The mockingjay pin was heavy in my pocket, a reminder of how dramatically the story had changed. Katniss Everdeen remained in District 12. Madge Undersee sat beside me, headed for the arena.
And I had just promised to protect the mayor's daughter, changing my role from reluctant tribute to willing guardian.
The Capitol had no idea what they'd just set in motion.