Mocking Jay

It's quite a stretch. Effie Trinket, rebel. But I don't want Coin killing her, so I make a mental note to present
her that way if asked. "I guess it's good Plutarch kidnapped you three after all."
"We're the only prep team still alive. And all the stylists from the Quarter Quell are dead," says Venia. She
doesn't say who specifically killed them. I'm beginning to wonder if it matters. She gingerly takes one of my
scarred hands and holds it out for inspection. "Now, what do you think for the nails? Red or maybe a jet black?"
Flavius performs some beauty miracle on my hair, managing to even out the front while getting some of the
longer locks to hide the bald spots in the back. My face, since it was spared from the flames, presents no more
than the usual challenges. Once I'm in Cinna's Mockingjay suit, the only scars visible are on my neck, forearms,
and hands. Octavia secures my Mockingjay pin over my heart and we step back to look in the mirror. I can't
believe how normal they've made me look on the outside when inwardly I'm such a wasteland.
There's a tap at the door and Gale steps in. "Can I have a minute?" he asks. In the mirror, I watch my prep
team. Unsure of where to go, they bump into one another a few times and then closet themselves in the
bathroom. Gale comes up behind me and we examine each other's reflection. I'm searching for something to
hang on to, some sign of the girl and boy who met by chance in the woods five years ago and became
inseparable. I'm wondering what would have happened to them if the Hunger Games had not reaped the girl. If
she would have fallen in love with the boy, married him even. And sometime in the future, when the brothers and
sisters had been raised up, escaped with him into the woods and left 12 behind forever. Would they have been
happy, out in the wild, or would the dark, twisted sadness between them have grown up even without the
Capitol's help?
"I brought you this." Gale holds up a sheath. When I take it, I notice it holds a single, ordinary arrow. "It's
supposed to be symbolic. You firing the last shot of the war."
"What if I miss?" I say. "Does Coin retrieve it and bring it back to me? Or just shoot Snow through the head
herself?"
"You won't miss." Gale adjusts the sheath on my shoulder.
We stand there, face-to-face, not meeting each other's eyes. "You didn't come see me in the hospital." He
doesn't answer, so finally I just say it. "Was it your bomb?"
"I don't know. Neither does Beetee," he says. "Does it matter? You'll always be thinking about it."
He waits for me to deny it; I want to deny it, but it's true. Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel
the heat of the flames. And I will never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer.
"That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family," he says. "Shoot straight, okay?" He
touches my cheek and leaves. I want to call him back and tell him that I was wrong. That I'll figure out a way to
make peace with this. To remember the circumstances under which he created the bomb. Take into account my
own inexcusable crimes. Dig up the truth about who dropped the parachutes. Prove it wasn't the rebels. Forgive
him. But since I can't, I'll just have to deal with the pain.
Effie comes in to usher me to some kind of meeting. I collect my bow and at the last minute remember the
rose, glistening in its glass of water. When I open the door to the bathroom, I find my prep team sitting in a row on
the edge of the tub, hunched and defeated. I remember I'm not the only one whose world has been stripped
away. "Come on," I tell them. "We've got an audience waiting."
I'm expecting a production meeting in which Plutarch instructs me where to stand and gives me my cue for
shooting Snow. Instead, I find myself sent into a room where six people sit around a table. Peeta, Johanna,
Beetee, Haymitch, Annie, and Enobaria. They all wear the gray rebel uniforms from 13. No one looks particularly
well. "What's this?" I say.
"We're not sure," Haymitch answers. "It appears to be a gathering of the remaining victors."
"We're all that's left?" I ask.
"The price of celebrity," says Beetee. "We were targeted from both sides. The Capitol killed the victors
they suspected of being rebels. The rebels killed those thought to be allied with the Capitol."
Johanna scowls at Enobaria. "So what's she doing here?"
"She is protected under what we call the Mockingjay Deal," says Coin as she enters behind me. "Wherein
Katniss Everdeen agreed to support the rebels in exchange for captured victors' immunity. Katniss has upheld
her side of the bargain, and so shall we."
Enobaria smiles at Johanna. "Don't look so smug," says Johanna. "We'll kill you anyway."
"Sit down, please, Katniss," says Coin, closing the door. I take a seat between Annie and Beetee, carefully
placing Snow's rose on the table. As usual, Coin gets right to the point. "I've asked you here to settle a debate.