"Ohhh." The sound comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. It's as if the leaves are actually leaching the pain right out of the sting.

 

Joy gives a giggle. "Lucky you had the sense to pull the stingers out or you'd be a lot worse."

 

"Do my neck! Do my cheek!" I almost beg.

 

Joy stuffs another handful of leaves in , and soon I'm laughing because the relief is so sweet. I notice a long burn on Joy's forearm. "I've got something for that." I set aside my weapons and anoint her arm with the burn medicine.

 

"You have good sponsors," she says longingly.

 

"Have you gotten anything yet?" I ask. She shakes her head. "You will, though. Watch. The closer we get to the end, the more people will realize how clever you are." I turn the meat over.

 

"You weren't joking, about wanting me for an ally?" she asks.

 

"No, I meant it," I say. I can almost hear Soonkyu groaning as I team up with this wispy child. But I want her. Because she's a survivor, and I trust her, and why not admit it? She reminds me of Seohyun.

 

"Okay," she says, and holds out her hand. We shake. "It's a deal."

 

Of course, this kind of deal can only be temporary, but neither of us mentions that.

 

Joy contributes a big handful of some sort of starchy root to the meal. Roasted over the fire, they have the sharp sweet taste of a parsnip. She recognizes the bird, too, some wild thing they call a groosling in her district. She says sometimes a flock will wander into the orchard and they get a decent lunch that day. For a while, all conversation stops as we fill our stomachs. The groosling has delicious meal that's so fatty, the grease drips down your face when you bite into it.

 

"Oh," says Joy with a sigh. "I've never had a whole leg to myself before."

 

I'll bet she hasn't. I'll bet meat hardly ever comes her way. "Take the other," I say.

 

"Really?" she asks.

 

"Take whatever you want. Now that I've got a bow and arrows, I can get more. Plus I've got snares. I can show you how to set them," I say. Joy still looks uncertainly at the leg. "Oh, take it," I say, putting the drumstick in her hands. "It will only keep a few days anyway, and we've got the whole bird plus the rabbit." Once she's got hold of it, her appetite wins out and she takes a huge mouthful.

 

"I'd have thought, in District Eleven, you'd have a bit more to eat than us. You know, since you grow the food," I say.

 

Joy's eyes widen. "Oh, no, we're not allowed to eat the crops."

 

"They arrest you or something?" I ask.

 

"They whip you and make everyone else watch," says Joy. "The mayor's very strict about it."

 

I can tell by her expression that it's not that uncommon an occurrence. A public whipping's a rare thing in District 12, although occasionally one occurs. Technically, Yuri and I could be whipped on a daily basis for poaching in the woods  -  well, technically, we could get a whole lot worse  -  except all the officials buy our meat. Besides, our mayor, Bora's father, doesn't seem to have much taste for such events. Maybe being the least prestigious, poorest, most ridiculed district in the country has its advantages. Such as, being largely ignored by the Capitol as long as we produce our coal quotas.

 

"Do you get all the coal you want?" Joy asks.

 

"No," I answer. "Just what we buy and whatever we track in on our boots."

 

"They feed us a bit extra during harvest, so that people can keep going longer," says Joy.

 

"Don't you have to be in school?" I ask.

 

"Not during harvest. Everyone works then," says Joy.

 

It's interesting, hearing about her life. We have so little communication with anyone outside our district. In fact, I wonder if the Gamemakers are blocking out our conversation, because even though the information seems harmless, they don't want people in different districts to know about one another.

 

At Joy's suggestion, we lay out all our food to plan ahead. She's seen most of mine, but I add the last couple of crackers and beef strips to the pile. She's gathered quite a collection of roots, nuts, greens, and even some berries.

 

I roll an unfamiliar berry in my fingers. "You sure this is safe?"

 

"Oh, yes, we have them back home. I've been eating them for days," she says, popping a handful in . I tentatively bite into one, and it's as good as our blackberries. Taking Joy on as an ally seems a better choice all the time. We divide up our food supplies, so in case we're separated, we'll both be set for a few days. Apart from the food, Joy has a small water skin, a homemade slingshot, and an extra pair of socks. She also has a sharp shard of rock she uses as a knife. "I know it's not much," she says as if embarrassed, "but I had to get away from the Cornucopia fast."

 

"You did just right," I say. When I spread out my gear, she gasps a little when she sees the sunglasses.

 

"How did you get those?" she asks.

 

"In my pack. They've been useless so far. They don't block the sun and they make it harder to see," I say with a shrug.

 

"These aren't for sun, they're for darkness," exclaims Joy. "Sometimes, when we harvest through the night, they'll pass out a few pairs to those of us highest in the trees. Where the torchlight doesn't reach. One time, this boy Chen, he tried to keep his pair. Hid it in his pants. They killed him on the spot."

 

"They killed a boy for taking these?" I say.

 

"Yes, and everyone knew he was no danger. Chen wasn't right in the head. I mean, he still acted like a three-year-old. He just wanted the glasses to play with," says Joy.

 

Hearing this makes me feel like District 12 is some sort of safe haven. Of course, people keel over from starvation all the time, but I can't imagine the Peacekeepers murdering a simpleminded child. There's a little girl, one of Greasy Sae's grandkids, who wanders around the Hob. She's not quite right, but she's treated as a sort of pet. People toss her scraps and things.

 

"So what do these do?" I ask Joy, taking the glasses.

 

"They let you see in complete darkness," says Joy. "Try them tonight when the sun goes down."

 

I give Joy some matches and she makes sure I have plenty of leaves in case my stings flare up again. We extinguish our fire and head upstream until it's almost nightfall.

 

"Where do you sleep?" I ask her. "In the trees?" She nods. "In just your jacket?"

 

Joy holds up her extra pair of socks. "I have these for my hands."

 

I think of how cold the nights have been. "You can share my sleeping bag if you want. We'll both easily fit." Her face lights up. I can tell this is more than she dared hope for.

 

We pick a fork high in a tree and settle in for the night just as the anthem begins to play. There were no deaths today.

 

"Joy, I only woke up today. How many nights did I miss?" The anthem should block out our words, but still I whisper. I even take the precaution of covering my lips with my hand. I don't want the audience to know what I'm planning to tell her about Taeyeon. Taking a cue from me, she does the same.

 

"Two," she says. "The girls from Districts One and Four are dead. There's ten of us left."

 

"Something strange happened. At least, I think it did. It might have been the tracker jacker venom making me imagine things," I say. "You know the boy from my district? Taeyeon? I think he saved my life. But he was with the Careers."

 

"He's not with them now," she says. "I've spied on their base camp by the lake. They made it back before they collapsed from the stingers. But he's not there. Maybe he did save you and had to run."

 

I don't answer. If, in fact, Taeyeon did save me, I'm in his debt again. And this can't be paid back. "If he did, it was all probably just part of his act. You know, to make people think he's in love with me."

 

"Oh," says Joy thoughtfully. "I didn't think that was an act."

 

"Course it is," I say. "He worked it out with our mentor." The anthem ends and the sky goes dark. "Let's try out these glasses." I pull out the glasses and slip them on. Joy wasn't kidding. I can see everything from the leaves on the trees to a skunk strolling through the bushes a good fifty feet away. I could kill it from here if I had a mind to. I could kill anyone.

 

"I wonder who else got a pair of these," I say.

 

"The Careers have two pairs. But they've got everything down by the lake," Joy says. "And they're so strong."

 

"We're strong, too," I say. "Just in a different way."

 

"You are. You can shoot," she says. "What can I do?"

 

"You can feed yourself. Can they?" I ask.

 

"They don't need to. They have all those supplies," Joy says.

 

"Say they didn't. Say the supplies were gone. How long would they last?" I say. "I mean, it's the Hunger Games, right?"

 

"But, Tiffany, they're not hungry," says Joy.

 

"No, they're not. That's the problem," I agree. And for the first time, I have a plan. A plan that isn't motivated by the need for flight and evasion. An offensive plan. "I think we're going to have to fix that, Joy."

 

Joy has decided to trust me wholeheartedly. I know this because as soon as the anthem finishes she snuggles up against me and falls asleep. Nor do I have any misgivings about her, as I take no particular precautions. If she'd wanted me dead, all she would have had to do was disappear from that tree without pointing out the tracker jacker nest. Needling me, at the very back of my mind, is the obvious. Both of us can't win these Games. But since the odds are still against either of us surviving, I manage to ignore the thought.

 

Besides, I'm distracted by my latest idea about the Careers and their supplies. Somehow Joy  and I must find a way to destroy their food. I'm pretty sure feeding themselves will be a tremendous struggle. Traditionally, the Career tributes' strategy is to get hold of all the food early on and work from there. The years when they have not protected it well  -  one year a pack of hideous reptiles destroyed it, another a Gamemakers' flood washed it away  -  those are usually the years that tributes from other districts have won. That the Careers have been better red growing up is actually to their disadvantage, because they don't know how to be hungry. Not the way Joy and I do.

 

But I'm too exhausted to begin any detailed plan tonight. My wounds recovering, my mind still a bit foggy from the venom, and the warmth of Joy at my side, her head cradled on my shoulder, have given me a sense of security. I realize, for the first time, how very lonely I've been in the arena. How comforting the presence of another human being can be. I give in to my drowsiness, resolving that tomorrow the tables will turn. Tomorrow, it's the Careers who will have to watch their backs.

 

The boom of the cannon jolts me awake. The sky's streaked with light, the birds already chattering. Joy perches in a branch across from me, her hands cupping something. We wait, listening for more shots, but there aren't any.

 

"Who do you think that was?" I can't help thinking of Taeyeon.

 

"I don't know. It could have been any of the others," says Joy. "I guess we'll know tonight."

 

"Who's left again?" I ask.

 

"The boy from District One. Both tributes from Two. The boy from Three. Kai and me. And you and Taeyeon," says Joy. "That's eight. Wait, and the boy from Ten, the one with the bad leg. He makes nine."

 

There's someone else, but neither of us can remember who it is.

 

"I wonder how that last one died," says Joy.

 

"No telling. But it's good for us. A death should hold the crowd for a bit. Maybe we'll have time to do something before the Gamemakers decide things have been moving too slowly," I say. "What's in your hands?"

 

"Breakfast," says Joy. She holds them out revealing two big eggs.

 

"What kind are those?" I ask.

 

"Not sure. There's a marshy area over that way. Some kind of waterbird," she says.

 

It'd be nice to cook them, but neither of us wants to risk a fire. My guess is the tribute who died today was a victim of the Careers, which means they've recovered enough to be back in the Games. We each out the insides of an egg, eat a rabbit leg and some berries. It's a good breakfast anywhere.

 

"Ready to do it?" I say, pulling on my pack.

 

"Do what?" says Joy, but by the way she bounces up, you can tell she's up for whatever I propose.

 

"Today we take out the Careers' food," I say.

 

"Really? How?" You can see the glint of excitement in her eyes. In this way, she's exactly the opposite of Seohyun for whom adventures are an ordeal.

 

"No idea. Come on, we'll figure out a plan while we hunt," I say.

 

We don't get much hunting done though because I'm too busy getting every scrap of information I can out of Rue about the Careers' base. She's only been in to spy on them briefly, but she's observant. They have set up their camp beside the lake. Their supply stash is about thirty yards away. During the day, they've been leaving another tribute, the boy from District 3, to watch over the supplies.

 

"The boy from District Three?" I ask. "He's working with them?"

 

"Yes, he stays at the camp full-time. He got stung, too, when they drew the tracker jackers in by the lake," says Joy. "I guess they agreed to let him live if he acted as their guard. But he's not very big."

 

"What weapons does he have?" I ask.

 

"Not much that I could see. A spear. He might be able to hold a few of us off with that, but Thresh could kill him easily," says Joy.

 

"And the food's just out in the open?" I say. She nods. "Something's not quite right about that whole setup."

 

"I know. But I couldn't tell what exactly," says Joy. "Tiffany, even if you could get to the food, how would you get rid of it?"

 

"Burn it. Dump it in the lake. Soak it in fuel." I poke Joy in the belly, just like I would Seohyun. "Eat it!" She giggles. "Don't worry, I'll think of something. Destroying things is much easier than making them."

 

For a while, we dig roots, we gather berries and greens, we devise a strategy in hushed voices. And I come to know Joy, the oldest of six kids, fiercely protective of her siblings, who gives her rations to the younger ones, who forages in the meadows in a district where the Peacekeepers are far less obliging than ours. Joy, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, "Music."

 

"Music?" I say. In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness. At least a rainbow gives you a tip about the weather. "You have a lot of time for that?"

 

"We sing at home. At work, too. That's why I love your pin," she says, pointing to the mockingjay that I've again forgotten about.

 

"You have mockingjays?" I ask.

 

"Oh, yes. I have a few that are my special friends. We can sing back and forth for hours. They carry messages for me," she says.

 

"What do you mean?" I say.

 

"I'm usually up highest, so I'm the first to see the flag that signals quitting time. There's a special little song I do," says Joy. She opens and sings a little four-note run in a sweet, clear voice. "And the mockingjays spread it around the orchard. That's how everyone knows to knock off," she continues. "They can be dangerous though, if you get too near their nests. But you can't blame them for that."

 

I unclasp the pin and hold it out to her. "Here, you take it. It has more meaning for you than me."

 

"Oh, no," says Joy, closing my fingers back over the pin. "I like to see it on you. That's how I decided I could trust you. Besides, I have this." She pulls a necklace woven out of some kind of grass from her shirt. On it, hangs a roughly carved wooden star. Or maybe it's a flower. "It's a good luck charm."

 

"Well, it's worked so far," I say, pinning the mockingjay back on my shirt. "Maybe you should just stick with that."

 

By lunch, we have a plan. By early afternoon, we are poised to carry it out. I help Joy collect and place the wood for the first two campfires, the third she'll have time for on her own. We decide to meet afterward at the site where we ate our first meal together. The stream should help guide me back to it. Before I leave, I make sure Joy's well stocked with food and matches. I even insist she take my sleeping bag, in case it's not possible to rendezvous by nightfall.

 

"What about you? Won't you be cold?" she asks.

 

"Not if I pick up another bag down by the lake," I say. "You know, stealing isn't illegal here," I say with a grin.

 

At the last minute, Joy decides to teach me her mockingjay signal, the one she gives to indicate the day's work is done. "It might not work. But if you hear the mockingjays singing it, you'll know I'm okay, only I can't get back right away."

 

"Are there many mockingjays here?" I ask.

 

"Haven't you seen them? They've got nests everywhere," she says. I have to admit I haven't noticed.

 

"Okay, then. If all goes according to plan, I'll see you for dinner," I say.

 

Unexpectedly, Joy throws her arms around me. I only hesitate a moment before I hug her back.

 

"You be careful," she says to me.

 

"You, too," I say. I turn and head back to the stream, feeling somehow worried. About Joy being killed, about Joy not being killed and the two of us being left for last, about leaving Joy alone, about leaving Seohyun alone back home. No, Seohyun has my mother and Yuri and a baker who has promised she won't go hungry. Joy has only me.

 

Once I reach the stream, I have only to follow it downhill to the place I initially picked it up after the tracker jacker attack. I have to be cautious as I move along the water though, because I find my thoughts preoccupied with unanswered questions, most of which concern Taeyeon. The cannon that fired early this morning, did that signify his death? If so, how did he die? At the hand of a Career? And was that in revenge for letting me live? I struggle again to remember that moment over Soyu's body, when he burst through the trees. But just the fact that he was sparkling leads me to doubt everything that happened.

 

I must have been moving very slowly yesterday because I reach the shallow stretch where I took my bath in just a few hours. I stop to replenish my water and add a layer of mud to my backpack. It seems bent on reverting to orange no matter how many times I cover it.

 

My proximity to the Careers' camp sharpens my senses, and the closer I get to them, the more guarded I am, pausing frequently to listen for unnatural sounds, an arrow already fitted into the string of my bow. I don't see any other tributes, but I do notice some of the things Joy has mentioned. Patches of the sweet berries. A bush with the leaves that healed my stings. Clusters of tracker jacker nests in the vicinity of the tree I was trapped in. And here and there, the black-and-white flash of a mockingjay wing in the branches high over my head.

 

When I reach the tree with the abandoned nest at the foot, I pause a moment, to gather my courage. Joy has given specific instructions on how to reach the best spying place near the lake from this point. Remember, I tell myself. You're the hunter now, not them. I get a firmer grasp on my bow and go on. I make it to the copse Joy has told me about and again have to admire her cleverness. It's right at the edge of the wood, but the bushy foliage is so thick down low I can easily observe the Career camp without being spotted. Between us lies the flat expanse where the Games began.