Mocking Jay

give another round of applause to Cressida, her amazing team, and, of course, our on-camera talent!"
I clap, too, until I realize I'm the on-camera talent and maybe it's obnoxious that I'm applauding for myself,
but no one's paying attention. I can't help noticing the strain on Fulvia's face, though. I think how hard this must be
for her, watching Haymitch's idea succeed under Cressida's direction, when Fulvia's studio approach was such
a flop.
Coin seems to have reached the end of her tolerance for self-congratulation. "Yes, well deserved. The
result is more than we had hoped for. But I do have to question the wide margin of risk that you were willing to
operate within. I know the raid was unforeseen. However, given the circumstances, I think we should discuss the
decision to send Katniss into actual combat."
The decision? To send me into combat? Then she doesn't know that I flagrantly disregarded orders, ripped
out my earpiece, and gave my bodyguards the slip? What else have they kept from her?
"It was a tough call," says Plutarch, furrowing his brow. "But the general consensus was that we weren't
going to get anything worth using if we locked her in a bunker somewhere every time a gun went off."
"And you're all right with that?" asks the president.
Gale has to kick me under the table before I realize that she's talking to me. "Oh! Yeah, I'm completely all
right with that. It felt good. Doing something for a change."
"Well, let's be just a little more judicious with her exposure. Especially now that the Capitol knows what she
can do," says Coin. There's a rumble of assent from around the table.
No one has ratted out Gale and me. Not Plutarch, whose authority we ignored. Not Boggs with his broken
nose. Not the insects we led into fire. Not Haymitch--no, wait a minute. Haymitch is giving me a deadly smile and
saying sweetly, "Yeah, we wouldn't want to lose our little Mockingjay when she's finally begun to sing." I make a
note to myself not to end up alone in a room with him, because he's clearly having vengeful thoughts over that
stupid earpiece.
"So, what else do you have planned?" asks the president.
Plutarch nods to Cressida, who consults a clipboard. "We have some terrific footage of Katniss at the
hospital in Eight. There should be another propo in that with the theme 'Because you know who they are and
what they do.' We'll focus on Katniss interacting with the patients, particularly the children, the bombing of the
hospital, and the wreckage. Messalla's cutting that together. We're also thinking about a Mockingjay piece.
Highlight some of Katniss's best moments intercut with scenes of rebel uprisings and war footage. We call that
one 'Fire is catching.' And then Fulvia came up with a really brilliant idea."
Fulvia's mouthful-of-sour-grapes expression is startled right off her face, but she recovers. "Well, I don't
know how brilliant it is, but I was thinking we could do a series of propos called We Remember. In each one, we
would feature one of the dead tributes. Little Rue from Eleven or old Mags from Four. The idea being that we
could target each district with a very personal piece."
"A tribute to your tributes, as it were," says Plutarch.
"That is brilliant, Fulvia," I say sincerely. "It's the perfect way to remind people why they're fighting."
"I think it could work," she says. "I thought we might use Finnick to intro and narrate the spots. If there was
interest in them."
"Frankly, I don't see how we could have too many We Remember propos," says Coin. "Can you start
producing them today?"
"Of course," says Fulvia, obviously mollified by the response to her idea.
Cressida has smoothed everything over in the creative department with her gesture. Praised Fulvia for
what is, in fact, a really good idea, and cleared the way to continue her own on-air depiction of the Mockingjay.
What's interesting is that Plutarch seems to have no need to share in the credit. All he wants is for the Airtime
Assault to work. I remember that Plutarch is a Head Gamemaker, not a member of the crew. Not a piece in the
Games. Therefore, his worth is not defined by a single element, but by the overall success of the production. If
we win the war, that's when Plutarch will take his bow. And expect his reward.
The president sends everyone off to get to work, so Gale wheels me back to the hospital. We laugh a little
about the cover-up. Gale says no one wanted to look bad by admitting they couldn't control us. I'm kinder, saying
they probably didn't want to jeopardize the chance of taking us out again now that they've gotten some decent
footage. Both things are probably true. Gale has to go meet Beetee down in Special Weaponry, so I doze off.
It seems like I've only shut my eyes for a few minutes, but when I open them, I flinch at the sight of Haymitch
sitting a couple of feet from my bed. Waiting. Possibly for several hours if the clock is right. I think about hollering