I wait until the next day at school to talk to Madge about the Quell, but that's almost as difficult as speaking to her at home. Ever since school started, Peacekeepers have been stationed every ten feet in the hallways and quickly disperse any loitering that lasts longer than thirty seconds—as if a bit of teenage gossip will start a riot. Lunch isn't private enough, so I decide to pass a note to her during one of our classes.

Quarter Quell: suspicious? I scrawl on a scrap of paper. Without looking up, I pass it to Madge sitting on my right, and out of the corner of my eye I watch her take it and scribble something back on it. She passes it back to me.

Another time, she's written.

I tap my pencil frustratingly before writing my reply. What other time is there? We're talking about this now.

I see her shake her head, scribbling away furiously.

Fine. It is suspicious. What are you going to do about it?

I think for a moment. What am I going to do about it? I certainly can't take part in the small bursts of rebellion that have been taking place over the past few months: It'd be way too much of a risk. I tap my pencil again, finally writing down a reply.

Have you talked to Gale?

I see Madge tense up a bit. I know they've been seeing each other, however sparingly it may be. And I'm sure he's on the side of the rebellion, and I'm sure she's been addressing his accusations of the Capitol the same way she's been addressing mine.

No. I haven't seen him in almost a week, she replies. Of course. He's probably working all day in the mines, on top of having to hunt for his family. I've convinced my dad to keep buying meat from the hunters, and Gale still sells to us sometimes, but it's a lot less than before.

None the less, I'm sure he'll have something interesting to say about the Quell.

Maybe we should go see him, I write. I hold the note for a moment as the teacher turns to address the class, then slip it back to Madge as soon as he turns around.

We? is all she writes back.

Yes, at the mines. We probably have the best chance of catching him there.

I see Madge shake her head again, her shoulders slumping.

I can't. If my dad finds out I went, I don't know what he'll do. I'm sorry.

I bury my face in my hands. I need to talk to someone about this, someone who will agree with me. I just don't feel Gale and I have the type of relationship that merits such a visit for such a conversation: We're nothing more than business associates. But if Madge won't speak to me, what other choice do I have? And who knows? Maybe he feels the same way; maybe he wants her to do something, too.

I decide then that I'll go to see Gale at the end of the work day. Even if I only get to talk to him for a few minutes, just getting his opinion on the situation might give me some satisfaction

I don't tell my father where I'm going, just leave a note telling him I'll be back soon. It's started to snow, and even with extra layers the cold penetrates through to my skin. I run to keep warm, my breath coming out in small clouds as I trek the unfamiliar path to the mines. The only other time I've been there is on "field trips", and still I get turned around and have to ask for directions. Finally, I see the black smoke drifting upward to pollute the sky, and just in time: The miners have started to emerge from the depths of the earth, headed home after the long day.

Gale is among the first out, and he looks extremely confused to see me and even more so to find that I've come there for him.

"Is something wrong?" is the first thing he says once I've pulled him aside. He looks freezing in just a shirt and rough miner's jacket, but he doesn't shiver at all. Probably still warm from the heat of the mines.

"No, nothing's wrong," I say. "I just figured you'd be the only one who agreed with me on this and I felt like talking to you about it would be the best thing."

He blinks a few times, looking perplexed. "Wait, talk to me about what?"

I take a short breath. "The Quarter Quell," I say, almost in a whisper. For some reason, I feel it necessary to make sure no one hears us.

He looks around, as if he's worried about the same thing. I can already sense that he knows exactly what I think of it. "What about it?"

"A little odd, isn't it?" I say, hoping he'll add more.

He sighs, looking almost annoyed, and I wonder if I've struck some chord in him. "And what does that have to do with me?"

I clench my jaw for a moment, taking another breath before releasing. "I'm sorry. I normally talk to Madge about these things, but obviously she can't be of much help on this."

The mention of Madge seems to soften him a bit. He looks down, rubbing his hands together as if suddenly aware of how dirty they are.

"Really?" he asks sarcastically. He shakes his head, and when he looks up I can see something like pain in his expression. "Every time I try to get something out of her she just… shoots me down. Even now, when it's so obvious the Capitol is trying—and failing—to use the Games to calm the districts down, I know if I try to bring it up she'll just… I just wish she wasn't so scared."

Suddenly, I feel much more at ease talking to Gale. I've landed us on common ground by bringing up Madge, and I can see we both feel the same way about her. I don't even have to ask to know that he probably loves her, too, in his own way. And how many times have I tried to talk to her about things she's uncomfortable with only to have her cut me off as soon as I start?

"You know you're a danger to each other," I say, suddenly feeling daring. I expect him to lash out, to accuse me of judging him or something. But instead, he looks at me with knowing eyes.

"And you aren't?"

His question takes me by surprise. Am I a danger to Madge? Of course these type of things interest me, but I would never get involved. And even if I did, I wouldn't even think of dragging Madge in with me unless she wanted to…

"I'm risking almost as much as she would be by coming here," I say, hoping I can bring myself some sort of justice. "I just have… less to lose."

Gale regards me for a moment, and I wonder if he'll ask me more, accuse me of selfishly endangering my best friend. But anything he's going to say is lost, because at that moment an explosion shakes the ground, and screams fill the air.

Gales runs out from the alley, and I can see people running away from the direction of the mines.

"What happened?" I ask, fearing the worst. "Is it the mines?"

He shakes his head slowly, looking distant. "No… Stay here." And with that he joins the throng.

"Hey!" I call after him, running to catch up. Thankfully he's tall, and I spot him just before he turns a corner. Everyone is moving in the same direction so it's not hard to follow him. In fact, I almost run into him when he comes to a dead halt around another corner.

I see why he seems to be frozen in the spot then, because in front of us an old warehouse is in flames, black smoke pouring out of every opening. Peacekeepers drag people out, but I can hear the screams of some still trapped inside. Those who have escaped lay scattered around, bleeding and bruising.

"What… what is this place?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly.

"The Hob," Gale says, suddenly unfreezing. He looks at me, seeming to realize I haven't done what he told me to. "Stay here," he says more assertively, holding his hand up in front of him.

"And do what?" I ask.

"Help someone," he says gesturing to the injured. He pulls his shirt over his mouth and nose and before I can stop him he dives into the burning building.

For just a second I think about going in after him, then realize how stupid of an idea it is. I curse under my breath, then turn to those lined up behind me.

Nearest to me is an older woman with tangled gray hair. Her nose is gushing blood and she tries to stop the flow with her hands, but it's no use.

"Here," I say, crouching down and taking off my scarf. I put it in her hands, lifting them up to her face. She looks at me, almost amazed, as if it's incredible that I'm helping her. She reaches out and I try not to flinch as her blood-covered fingers brush my cheek.

"Thank you," she says, her voice thick and weak.

I nod and turn my head towards the others, and out of the corner of my eye see someone burst out of the building, coughing and half-carrying someone else behind them. At first I hope it's Gale, but I don't recognize either of them. No one goes to help them, so I take it upon myself to do so. One of them—a boy probably my age—is covered in soot and dirt and is breathing heavily. Without a word, he passes the victim to me—a girl with a bloody gash on her head—and without a word starts back towards the Hob.

"Hey!" I grab his arm. "You can't go back in there!"

He pulls away, breaking from my grasp. "There's still people in there. If I don't help them they'll die."

"Well, if you go in there you'll die," I say. "You won't be helping them at all that way."

He looks at me for a moment, and I can see in his eyes how conflicted he is. He seems to contemplate the decision for an eternity, and I can feel the girl growing heavier in my arms with each passing second. Finally, he sighs and helps me carry the girl to join the rest of the injured.

Someone yells, drawing my attention away from the pair. I turn just in time to see Gale launch himself at a Peacekeeper, sending them both crashing to the ground. There's a flurry of shouts and movement and before I can react Gale is being dragged away by two Peacekeepers.

"Stay here!" he shouts to me as he goes by. That's three times in less than an hour, I note. Already we're learning things about each other: He likes to run off and play the hero; I don't take orders very well.

But as much as I want it not to be true, I've already risked punishment enough by being here. If I try to interfere with the Peacekeepers… I try not to think of what could happen.

Instead, I nod at Gale, hoping he'll be alright. Maybe they'll just arrest him and release him in the morning as a warning. I keep that thought in mind, and get back to helping the injured. The boy from before is holding a dirty cloth to the girl's head, and I join some of the other people helping out. One man seems to have gained some control of the situation and he orders me to hold a cloth wrapped around some snow to and old man's swollen eye.

A strange sound pierces the crisp air: a whistle, then a crack, then a cry. I look around, expecting to see a Peacekeeper striking someone, but most of them are standing a ways off, just watching the frantic rush of the injured and those able to help. Then the sound happens again, and I can tell now that it's further away. I stand up, trying to pinpoint its location. It seems to be coming from the direction the Peacekeepers took Gale…

My heart jumps into my throat, and my legs move before I really register what's happening. I turn a corner and nearly crash into the crowd of people gathered there. There's the distinct whistle and crack of a whip again, and someone cries out in pain. I start pushing through the bodies and people warn me not to, but I ignore them.

Finally, I get to the edge of the crowd, just in time to see Romulus Thread raise his hand over his head and lash the whip across Gale's back.

I squeeze my eyes shut and stumble backwards, but the image of Gale's body jerking in pain is already burned into my mind, his cry echoing in my head. Part of me wants to scream, or run out to him or do anything to stop this from happening. But all I can do is stand anchored to the frozen ground, watching helplessly as Romulus brings the whip down over and over, Gale's cries becoming weaker every time. I've never seen pain like this, and it leaves me in some catatonic state: My mind screams to run away, to hind and never go where I can see this again, but my body is rigid with terror.

I don't remember how I overcome that fear, or when I start running, or the people and houses flying past me, or where I'm planning to go. I just know that suddenly I'm at the entrance to the Victor's Village. I search among the dozens of empty houses for the one with the name Everdeen on the door. Finally I see it, racing up the steps and banging on the door.

A woman with wispy blonde hair—whom I assume is Mrs. Everdeen—opens it, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

Words spill uncontrollably out of my mouth: At the Hob with Gale, Peacekeepers burning it down, trying to help, him being dragged away. The more I talk, the wider her eyes get and when I finally finish—out of breath and shaking slightly—she stares at me for a few seconds. She blinks twice before turning and calling to someone in the house. Then she disappears for a moment, returning with a girl who I recognize as Primrose. She has a bag slung over her shoulder, and she manages to thank me as the pair race down the steps and through the gates of the Village.

And I am left standing there as the wind picks up and snow starts to fall, suddenly and utterly alone.