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Everyone knew getting District 12 was a punishment anyways, it never resulted in victors, which was embarrassing for Escorts, as well as very painful. All Escorts were being punished for something - sometimes crimes of their families or friends, which was horribly unfair in Effie’s eyes, but c’est la vie - but to get District 12 ? That was truly horrible.
Of course, the Reapings were random. They had to be! Some wealthier people managed to pull strings to lessen the risk - or, rarely , remove a child’s name from the bowl entirely - but nothing was truly rigged. All Escorts knew that! But to pull the name yourself, to call the name, and watch the child walk on stage… it was punishment .
And Effie Trinket? She had been the escort for District Twelve for longer than she could remember, longer than she cared to try to remember. Punishment for crimes that happened before she was born, she thought. Crimes she didn’t know of, couldn’t possibly have committed, but was paying for anyways.
It was all horrible, layer after layer. Year after year. Feigned apathy, the fake smiles, the forced laugh and excitement… it was exhausting . She wasn’t sure why exactly she kept the charade up long after the cameras were gone.
Maybe it was comfort.
It was easier to pretend to not notice the hopeless looks in the eyes of the reaped children if you buried everything underneath layers of fake personality, fake everything. It was easier to not notice that they’d already given up on life, they’d already made peace with their families, friends, themselves before even getting on the train.
But she still always felt the blood on her hands, even though she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She’d called the names of so many children, some as young as twelve, and they haunted her every night.
No , she wasn’t truly apathetic. She felt her heart shatter for every child she brought on the train, as she watched them and their spirits break in their eyes. It was a weight she hated having to bear, and she understood why Haymitch drank all the time, at least a little.
She saw them every time she closed her eyes, heard their little voices in her nightmares. She’d only been freshly eighteen when she had been assigned to District 12, and now she was… what ? Thirty-two. Fourteen years of this, twenty-eight children, she remembered their names, their eyes, their faces. How empty and sad they looked, how dead the crowd looked when she called their names.
They never had a chance, and everyone knew that. Effie knew that the best, but she always had to smile!
But this time… it was different. When she pulled the names.
She had come to view these two as family. Family wasn’t something that she had much of in the Capitol, she really… only had it with Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch. Even if she wouldn’t let them know, even if she wouldn’t drop the facade for even a moment around them still.
Until today , that was.
They were supposed to be safe. They were promised a life of ease, of comfort , with no more fear of going back to that stupid arena. No more putting on a show for the Capitol, and Effie stared at the bowl with a single slip of paper in it. The mayor was speaking, as he did every year, and Effie just stared at the bowl.
Katniss…
She knew the Games were terrible, she always knew that. She knew President Snow was a monster, everyone with first hand experience in any part of the Games knew that for sure. But to be faced with this, a broken promise, a broken life being thrown back into this for entertainment. It was hard to swallow the anger and heartbreak creeping up her throat.
Nobody made a sound other than the mayor, which was normal. An average Reaping in District Twelve, but everything felt heavier today. This time. Or maybe this was just the first time she let herself feel it, for real .
“Effie Trinket,” the mayor’s voice trailed off as he turned to her with a somber, clearly forced smile and small hand gesture. That was her cue…
Her legs stiff, Effie stood, immediately forcing a smile. It was harder today, she was worried she looked fake this time. With wobbly legs, she walked up to the microphone. She straightened her posture the best she could, and rambled off her short speech.
She had it memorized.
Same thing every year.
Her eyes wandered to the bowl, just barely in the corner of her sight, the one slip of paper that definitely said the name she didn’t want it to say. The only people in the crowd she could see were the Everdeen family - little Primrose and her mother. Primrose had the same broken look in her soft eyes, Effie could see it. She saw it every year, in every child she called.
In every family she tore apart.
Voice wavered.
Catching herself, quickly, she cleared her throat. “And, as always, ladies first.” Her voice softened as she turned and was faced with Katniss staring at her, the usual fire in her eyes, but it was dulled. Slow steps. Weak steps.
Heels clacked on the stage.
No show this time, she thought. No show, no swirl.
A clean pick of the paper, a short but endless walk back to the microphone. She cleared her throat, but it didn’t help. “Katniss Everdeen.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable, she looked to Katniss with a broken gaze. A silent apology. Katniss stared back blankly and walked to her spot.
“And now for the men,” Effie said, half-hearted. The other bowl had two slips, and neither possibility was good. She looked at Peeta, and then Haymitch, for a brief moment before cleanly pulling out a slip of paper.
The walk back to the microphone felt endless again, and she took a moment before opening the slip. Peeta Mellark. “Haymitch Abernathy.” The name rolled off her tongue immediately, her voice empty. She barely got his name out before Peeta volunteered, she wished he hadn’t.
She wished so desperately, so desperately, that she could undo it. Say what was actually on the slip, maybe Haymitch… maybe Haymitch would...
She thought about what she wanted to say, staring at Peeta with broken eyes. Tears threatened to fall, she couldn’t hear what Haymitch and Peeta were mumbling about, but Haymitch looked angry. She thought about what she wished she could say, what she wanted to do, how she wanted to scream and yell. To shatter the persona for once , to fight against this, to let her pain and anger be known by everyone in Panem, but she couldn’t . The crowd started saluting, and her heart fell. And when the Peacekeeper’s roughly started to take Katniss and Peeta away, she couldn’t take it.
“But but but… but,” she stammered, trying to get their attention quickly as Katniss and Peeta were dragged away. She was never good at improvising, and that fact was shoved in her face when they completely ignored her. She followed them, still desperately trying to get them to stop, and the door was shut behind them all, and that was it.
I’m sorry...