Mockingjay

back under sedation.” Finnick and I just stand there, as if we’ve lost the ability to respond. I think of the way Johanna never showers. How she forced herself into the rain like it was acid that day. I had attributed her misery to the morphling withdrawal.
    “You two should go see her. You’re as close to friends as she’s got,” says Haymitch.
    That makes the whole thing worse. I don’t really know what’s between Johanna and Finnick. But I hardly know her. No family. No friends. Not so much as a token from 7 to set beside her regulation clothes in her anonymous drawer. Nothing.
    “I better go tell Plutarch. He won’t be happy,” Haymitch continues. “He wants as many victors as possible for the cameras to follow in the Capitol. Thinks it makes for better television.”
    “Are you and Beetee going?” I ask.
    “As many young and attractive victors as possible,” Haymitch corrects himself. “So, no. We’ll be here.”
    Finnick goes directly down to see Johanna, but I linger outside a few minutes until Boggs comes out. He’s my commander now, so I guess he’s the one to ask for any special favors. When I tell him what I want to do, he writes me a pass so that I can go to the woods during Reflection, provided I stay within sight of the guards. I run to my compartment, thinking to use the parachute, but it’s so full of ugly memories. Instead, I go across the hall and take one of the white cotton bandages I brought from 12. Square. Sturdy. Just the thing.
    In the woods, I find a pine tree and strip handfuls of fragrant needles from the boughs. After making a neat pile in the middle of the bandage, I gather up the sides, give them a twist, and tie them tightly with a length of vine, making an apple-sized bundle.
    At the hospital room door, I watch Johanna for a moment, realize that most of her ferocity is in her abrasive attitude. Stripped of that, as she is now, there’s only a slight young woman, her wide-set eyes fighting to stay awake against the power of the drugs. Terrified of what sleep will bring. I cross to her and hold out the bundle.
    “What’s that?” she says hoarsely. Damp edges of her hair form little spikes over her forehead.
    “I made it for you. Something to put in your drawer.” I place it in her hands. “Smell it.”
    She lifts the bundle to her nose and takes a tentative sniff. “Smells like home.” Tears flood her eyes.
    “That’s what I was hoping. You being from Seven and all,” I say. “Remember when we met? You were a tree. Well, briefly.”
    Suddenly, she has my wrist in an iron grip. “You have to kill him, Katniss.”
    “Don’t worry.” I resist the temptation to wrench my arm free.
    “Swear it. On something you care about,” she hisses.
    “I swear it. On my life.” But she doesn’t let go of my arm.
    “On your family’s life,” she insists.
    “On my family’s life,” I repeat. I guess my concern for my own survival isn’t compelling enough. She lets go and I rub my wrist. “Why do you think I’m going, anyway, brainless?”
    That makes her smile a little. “I just needed to hear it.” She presses the bundle of pine needles to her nose and closes her eyes.
    The remaining days go by in a whirl. After a brief workout each morning, my squad’s on the shooting range full-time in training. I practice mostly with a gun, but they reserve an hour a day for specialty weapons, which means I get to use my Mockingjay bow, Gale his heavy militarized one. The trident Beetee designed for Finnick has a lot of special features, but the most remarkable is that he can throw it, press a button on a metal cuff on his wrist, and return it to his hand without chasing it down.
    Sometimes we shoot at Peacekeeper dummies to become familiar with the weaknesses in their protective gear. The chinks in the armor, so to speak. If you hit flesh, you’re rewarded with a burst of fake blood. Our dummies are soaked in red.
    It’s reassuring to see just how high the overall level of accuracy is in our group. Along with Finnick and Gale, the squad includes five soldiers from 13. Jackson, a middle-aged woman who’s Boggs’s second in command, looks kind of sluggish but can hit things the rest of us can’t even see without a scope. Farsighted, she says. There’s a pair of sisters in their twenties named Leeg — we call them Leeg 1 and Leeg 2 for clarity — who are so similar in uniform, I can’t tell them apart until I notice Leeg 1 has weird yellow flecks in her