imperfect fit ; an everlark au based off of 'the selection' series

f i f t y

I go down for breakfast on the late side. I don't want to risk running into Peeta or any of the girls alone. Before I make it to the stairs, Gale comes walking up the hall. I make an exasperated sounds, and he looks around before approaching me.

"Where have you been?" I quietly demand.

"Working, Katniss. I'm a guard. I can't control when and where they schedule me. I've stopped being placed on the round for your room."

I want to ask why, but this isn't the time. "I need to talk to you."

He thinks for a moment. "At two, go to the end of the first-floor hallway, down past the hospital wing. I can be there, but not for long." I nod. He gives me a quick bow and goes back on his way before anyone notices our conversation and I continue downstairs, not feeling satisfied at all.

I want to scream. Saturday being a day-long sentence to the Women's Room. When people come to visit, they want to see the king and queen, not us. When one of us is princess, that will probably change, but for now I'm stuck watching Delly pour over her presentation again. The others read things, too, or notes or reports. I need an idea and fast. I'm sure Gale will help me figure this out, and I have to start something tonight no matter what.

As if she can read my thoughts, Effie stops to see me. "How's my star pupil?" she asks, keeping her voice low enough that the others won't notice.

"Great."

"How is your paper going? Do you need any fine-tuning?" she offers.

Fine-tuning? How am I supposed to tweak nothing?

"It's going great. You're going to love it, I'm sure," I lie.

She cocks her head to the side. "Being a bit secretive are we?"

"A bit." I smile.

"That's fine. You've been doing such wonderful work lately, I'm sure it'll be fantastic." Effie pats my shoulder as she heads out the room.

I'm in so much trouble.

The minutes pass so slowly that it's like a special kind of torture. Just before two I excuse myself and go down the hallway. At the very end, there's a massive Burgundy upholstered couch underneath a massive window. I sit and wait. I don't see a clock, but the minutes pass to slow for comfort. Finally Gale comes around a corner.

"About time."  I sigh.

"What's wrong?" he asks, standing by the couch, looking official.

So much, I think. So many things I can't talk about.

"We have this assignment, and I don't know what to do. I can't think of anything, and I'm stressed, and I can't sleep." I say spastically.

He chuckles. "What's the assignment? Tiara designing?"

"No," I say, shooting him a frustrated glare. "We have to come up with a project, something good for the country. Like Peeta's work with the food for the poorer districts."

"This is what you've been worked up about?" he asks, shaking his head. "How is that stressful? That sounds like fun."

"I thought it would be, too. But I can't come up with anything. What would you do?"

Gale thinks for a moment. "I know! You should do a caste exchange program," he says, his eyes glittering with excitement.

"A what?"

"A caste exchange program. People from the richer districts switch with people from the poorer ones so they can know what it feels like to walk in our shoes."