The first thing Haymitch does is to show the footage we’ve just shot. I seem to have reached some new low under Plutarch and Fulvia’s guidance. Both my voice and body have a jerky, disjointed quality, like a puppet being manipulated by unseen forces.

«All right,» Haymitch says when it’s over. «Would anyone like to argue that this is of use to us in winning the war?» No one does. «That saves time. So, let’s all be quiet for a minute. I want everyone to think of one incident where Katniss Everdeen genuinely moved you. Not where you were jealous of her hairstyle, or her dress went up in flames or she made a halfway decent shot with an arrow. Not where Peeta was making you like her. I want to hear one moment whereshe made you feel something real.»

Quiet stretches out and I’m beginning to think it will never end, when Leevy speaks up. «When she volunteered to take Prim’s place at the reaping. Because I’m sure she thought she was going to die.»

«Good. Excellent example,» says Haymitch. He takes a purple marker and writes on a notepad. «Volunteered for sister at reaping.» Haymitch looks around the table. «Somebody else.»

I’m surprised that the next speaker is Boggs, who I think of as a muscular robot that does Coin’s bidding. «When she sang the song. While the little girl died.» Somewhere in my head an image surfaces of Boggs with a young boy perched up on his hip. In the dining hall, I think. Maybe he’s not a robot after all.

«Who didn’t get choked up at that, right?» says Haymitch, writing it down.

«I cried when she drugged Peeta so she could go get him medicine and when she kissed him good-bye!» blurts out Octavia. Then she covers her mouth, like she’s sure this was a bad mistake.

But Haymitch only nods. «Oh, yeah. Drugs Peeta to save his life. Very nice.»

The moments begin to come thick and fast and in no particular order. When I took Rue on as an ally.Extended my hand to Chaff on interview night. Tried to carry Mags. And again and again when I held out those berries that meant different things to different people. Love for Peeta. Refusal to give in under impossible odds. Defiance of the Capitol’s inhumanity.

Haymitch holds up the notepad. «So, the question is, what do all of these have in common?»

«They were Katniss’s,» says Gale quietly. «No one told her what to do or say.»

«Unscripted, yes!» says Beetee. He reaches over and pats my hand. «So we should just leave you alone, right?»

People laugh. I even smile a little.

«Well, that’s all very nice but not very helpful,» says Fulvia peevishly. «Unfortunately, her opportunities for being wonderful are rather limited here in Thirteen. So unless you’re suggesting we toss her into the middle of combat—»

«That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,» says Haymitch. «Put her out in the field and just keep the cameras rolling.»

«But people think she’s pregnant,» Gale points out.

«We’ll spread the word that she lost the baby from the electrical shock in the arena,» Plutarch replies. «Very sad. Very unfortunate.»

The idea of sending me into combat is controversial. But Haymitch has a pretty tight case. If I perform well only in real-life circumstances, then into them I should go. «Every time we coach her or give her lines, the best we can hope for is okay. It has to come from her. That’s what people are responding to.»

«Even if we’re careful, we can’t guarantee her safety,» says Boggs. «She’ll be a target for every—»

«I want to go,» I break in. «I’m no help to the rebels here.»

«And if you’re killed?» asks Coin.

«Make sure you get some footage. You can use that, anyway,» I answer.

«Fine,» says Coin. «But let’s take it one step at a time. Find the least dangerous situation that can evoke some spontaneity in you.» She walks around Command, studying the illuminated district maps that show the ongoing troop positions in the war. «Take her into Eight this afternoon. There was heavy bombing this morning, but the raid seems to have run its course. I want her armed with a squad of bodyguards. Camera crew on the ground. Haymitch, you’ll be airborne and in contact with her. Let’s see what happens there. Does anyone have any other comments?»

«Wash her face,» says Dalton. Everyone turns to him. «She’s still a girl and you made her look thirty-five. Feels wrong. Like something the Capitol would do.»

As Coin adjourns the meeting, Haymitch asks her if he can speak to me privately. The others leave except for Gale, who lingers uncertainly by my side. «What are you worried about?» Haymitch asks him. «I’m the one who needs the bodyguard.»

«It’s okay,» I tell Gale, and he goes. Then there’s just the hum of the instruments, the purr of the ventilation system.

Haymitch takes the seat across from me. «We’re going to have to work together again. So, go ahead. Just say it.»

I think of the snarling, cruel exchange back on the hovercraft. The bitterness that followed. But all I say is «I can’t believe you didn’t rescue Peeta.»

«I know,» he replies.

There’s a sense of incompleteness. And not because he hasn’t apologized. But because we were a team. We had a deal to keep Peeta safe. A drunken, unrealistic deal made in the dark of night, but a deal just the same. And in my heart of hearts, I know we both failed.

«Now you say it,» I tell him.

«I can’t believe you let him out of your sight that night,» says Haymitch.

I nod. That’s it. «I play it over and over in my head. What I could have done to keep him by my side without breaking the alliance. But nothing comes to me.»

«You didn’t have a choice. And even if I could’ve made Plutarch stay and rescue him that night, the whole hovercraft would’ve gone down. We barely got out as it was.» I finally meet Haymitch’s eyes. Seam eyes. Gray and deep and ringed with the circles of sleepless nights. «He’s not dead yet, Katniss.»

«We’re still in the game.» I try to say this with optimism, but my voice cracks.

«Still in. And I’m still your mentor.» Haymitch points his marker at me. «When you’re on the ground, remember I’m airborne. I’ll have the better view, so do what I tell you.»

«We’ll see,» I answer.

I return to the Remake Room and watch the streaks of makeup disappear down the drain as I scrub my face clean. The person in the mirror looks ragged, with her uneven skin and tired eyes, but she looks like me. I rip the armband off, revealing the ugly scar from the tracker. There. That looks like me, too.

Since I’ll be in a combat zone, Beetee helps me with armor Cinna designed. A helmet of some interwoven metal that fits close to my head. The material’s supple, like fabric, and can be drawn back like a hood in case I don’t want it up full-time. A vest to reinforce the protection over my vital organs. A small white earpiece that attaches to my collar by a wire. Beetee secures a mask to my belt that I don’t have to wear unless there’s a gas attack. «If you see anyone dropping for reasons you can’t explain, put it on immediately,» he says. Finally, he straps a sheath divided into three cylinders of arrows to my back. «Just remember: Right side, fire. Left side, explosive. Center, regular. You shouldn’t need them, but better safe than sorry.»

Boggs shows up to escort me down to the Airborne Division. Just as the elevator arrives, Finnick appears in a state of agitation. «Katniss, they won’t let me go! I told them I’m fine, but they won’t even let me ride in the hovercraft!»

I take in Finnick—his bare legs showing between his hospital gown and slippers, his tangle of hair, the half-knotted rope twisted around his fingers, the wild look in his eyes—and know any plea on my part will be useless. Even I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring him. So I smack my hand on my forehead and say, «Oh, I forgot. It’s this stupid concussion. I was supposed to tell you to report to Beetee in Special Weaponry. He’s designed a new trident for you.»