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About halfway through my glass of wine, my head starts<br />

feeling foggy, so I change to water instead. I don’t like the feeling<br />

and hope it wears off soon. How Haymitch can stand walking<br />

around like this full-time is a mystery.<br />

I try to focus on the talk, which has turned to our interview<br />

costumes, when a girl sets a gorgeous-looking cake on the table<br />

and deftly lights it. It blazes up and then the flames flicker<br />

around the edges awhile until it finally goes out. I have a moment<br />

of doubt. “What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?” I say, looking<br />

up at the girl. “That’s the last thing I wa — oh! I know<br />

you!”<br />

I can’t place a name or time to the girl’s face. But I’m certain<br />

of it. The dark red hair, the striking features, the porcelain<br />

white skin. But even as I utter the words, I feel my insides contracting<br />

with anxiety and guilt at the sight of her, and while I<br />

can’t pull it up, I know some bad memory is associated with<br />

her. The expression of terror that crosses her face only adds<br />

to my confusion and unease. She shakes her head in denial<br />

quickly and hurries away from the table.<br />

When I look back, the four adults are watching me like<br />

hawks.<br />

“Don’t be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know<br />

an Avox?” snaps Effie. “The very thought.”<br />

“What’s an Avox?” I ask stupidly.<br />

“Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so<br />

she can’t speak,” says Haymitch. “She’s probably a traitor of<br />

some sort. Not likely you’d know her.”<br />

77

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