Catching Fire

the jabberjay attack, it’s that it let us know where we are on the clock face again.
    Finnick weaves yet another water basket and a net for fishing. I take a quick swim and put more ointment on my skin. Then I sit at the edge of the water, cleaning the fish Finnick catches and watching the sun drop below the horizon. The bright moon is already on the rise, filling the arena with that strange twilight. We’re about to settle down to our meal of raw fish when the anthem begins. And then the faces . . .
    Cashmere. Gloss. Wiress. Mags. The woman from District 5. The morphling who gave her life for Peeta. Blight. The man from 10.
    Eight dead. Plus eight from the first night. Two-thirds of us gone in a day and a half. That must be some kind of record.
    “They’re really burning through us,” says Johanna.
    “Who’s left? Besides us five and District Two?” asks Finnick.
    “Chaff,” says Peeta, without needing to think about it. Perhaps he’s been keeping an eye out for him because of Haymitch.
    A parachute comes down with a pile of bite-sized square-shaped rolls. “These are from your district, right, Beetee?” Peeta asks.
    “Yes, from District Three,” he says. “How many are there?”
    Finnick counts them, turning each one over in his hands before he sets it in a neat configuration. I don’t know what it is with Finnick and bread, but he seems obsessed with handling it. “Twenty-four,” he says.
    “An even two dozen, then?” says Beetee.
    “Twenty-four on the nose,” says Finnick. “How should we divide them?”
    “Let’s each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest,” says Johanna. I don’t know why this makes me laugh a little. I guess because it’s true. When I do, Johanna gives me a look that’s almost approving. No, not approving. But maybe slightly pleased.
    We wait until the giant wave has flooded out of the ten-to-eleven-o’clock section, wait for the water to recede, and then go to that beach to make camp. Theoretically, we should have a full twelve hours of safety from the jungle. There’s an unpleasant chorus of clicking, probably from some evil type of insect, coming from the eleven-to-twelve-o’clock wedge. But whatever is making the sound stays within the confines of the jungle and we keep off that part of the beach in case they’re just waiting for a carelessly placed footfall to swarm out.
    I don’t know how Johanna’s still on her feet. She’s only had about an hour of sleep since the Games started. Peeta and I volunteer for the first watch because we’re better rested, and because we want some time alone. The others go out immediately, although Finnick’s sleep is restless. Every now and then I hear him murmuring Annie’s name.
    Peeta and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his. I watch the water as he watches the jungle, which is better for me. I’m still haunted by the voices of the jabberjays, which unfortunately the insects can’t drown out. After a while I rest my head against his shoulder. Feel his hand caress my hair.
    “Katniss,” he says softly, “it’s no use pretending we don’t know what the other one is trying to do.” No, I guess there isn’t, but it’s no fun discussing it, either. Well, not for us, anyway. The Capitol viewers will be glued to their sets so they don’t miss one wretched word.
    “I don’t know what kind of deal you think you’ve made with Haymitch, but you should know he made me promises as well.” Of course, I know this, too. He told Peeta they could keep me alive so that he wouldn’t be suspicious. “So I think we can assume he was lying to one of us.”
    This gets my attention. A double deal. A double promise. With only Haymitch knowing which one is real. I raise my head, meet Peeta’s eyes. “Why are you saying this now?”
    “Because I don’t want you forgetting how different our circumstances are. If you die, and I live, there’s no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You’re my whole life,” he says. “I would never be happy again.” I start to object but he puts a finger to my lips. “It’s different for you. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard. But there are other people who’d make your life worth living.”
    Peeta pulls the chain with the gold disk from around his neck. He holds it in the moonlight so I can clearly see the mockingjay. Then his thumb slides along a catch I didn’t