Catching Fire

recent success creating a musical chip that’s tiny enough to be concealed in a flake of glitter but can hold hours of songs. I remember Octavia talking about this during the wedding shoot, and I see a possible chance to allude to the uprising.
    “Oh, yeah. My prep team was all upset a few months ago, I think, because they couldn’t get hold of that,” I say casually. “I guess a lot of orders from District Three were getting backed up.”
    Beetee examines me under his glasses. “Yes. Did you have any similar backups in coal production this year?” he asks.
    “No. Well, we lost a couple of weeks when they brought in a new Head Peacekeeper and his crew, but nothing major,” I say. “To production, I mean. Two weeks sitting around your house doing nothing just means two weeks of being hungry for most people.”
    I think they understand what I’m trying to say. That we’ve had no uprising. “Oh. That’s a shame,” says Wiress in a slightly disappointed voice. “I found your district very . . .” She trails off, distracted by something in her head.
    “Interesting,” fills in Beetee. “We both did.”
    I feel bad, knowing that their district must have suffered much worse than ours. I feel I have to defend my people. “Well, there aren’t very many of us in Twelve,” I say. “Not that you’d know it nowadays by the size of the Peacekeeping force. But I guess we’re interesting enough.”
    As we move over to the shelter station, Wiress stops and gazes up at the stands where the Gamemakers are roaming around, eating and drinking, sometimes taking notice of us. “Look,” she says, giving her head a slight nod in their direction. I look up and see Plutarch Heavensbee in the magnificent purple robe with the fur-trimmed collar that designates him as Head Gamemaker. He’s eating a turkey leg.
    I don’t see why this merits comment, but I say, “Yes, he’s been promoted to Head Gamemaker this year.”
    “No, no. There by the corner of the table. You can just . . .” says Wiress.
    Beetee squints under his glasses. “Just make it out.”
    I stare in that direction, perplexed. But then I see it. A patch of space about six inches square at the corner of the table seems almost to be vibrating. It’s as if the air is rippling in tiny visible waves, distorting the sharp edges of the wood and a goblet of wine someone has set there.
    “A force field. They’ve set one up between the Gamemakers and us. I wonder what brought that on,” Beetee says.
    “Me, probably,” I confess. “Last year I shot an arrow at them during my private training session.” Beetee and Wiress look at me curiously. “I was provoked. So, do all force fields have a spot like that?”
    “Chink,” says Wiress vaguely.
    “In the armor, as it were,” finishes Beetee. “Ideally it’d be invisible, wouldn’t it?”
    I want to ask them more, but lunch is announced. I look for Peeta, but he’s hanging with a group of about ten other victors, so I decide just to eat with District 3. Maybe I can get Seeder to join us.
    When we make our way into the dining area, I see some of Peeta’s gang have other ideas. They’re dragging all the smaller tables to form one large table so that we all have to eat together. Now I don’t know what to do. Even at school I used to avoid eating at a crowded table. Frankly, I’d probably have sat alone if Madge hadn’t made a habit of joining me. I guess I’d have eaten with Gale except, being two grades apart, our lunch never fell at the same time.
    I take a tray and start making my way around the food-laden carts that ring the room. Peeta catches up with me at the stew. “How’s it going?”
    “Good. Fine. I like the District Three victors,” I say. “Wiress and Beetee.”
    “Really?” he asks. “They’re something of a joke to the others.”
    “Why does that not surprise me?” I say. I think of how Peeta was always surrounded at school by a crowd of friends. It’s amazing, really, that he ever took any notice of me except to think I was odd.
    “Johanna’s nicknamed them Nuts and Volts,” he says. “I think she’s Nuts and he’s Volts.”
    “And so I’m stupid for thinking they might be useful. Because of something Johanna Mason said while she was oiling up her breasts for wrestling,” I retort.
    “Actually I think the nickname’s been around for years. And I didn’t mean that as an insult. I’m just sharing information,” he says.
    “Well, Wiress and Beetee are