The heat in District 12 was always the same kind of heavy—coal dust, pine, and the faint sweetness of wildflowers struggling through it. Summer had finally broken, and with it came freedom from the mines, from school, from everything except the town's watchful eyes.

You were sitting on the back porch steps, untangling a mess of fishing line your brother Kash had left out. Inside, the screen door slammed.

Behind him, Kash was already heading toward the path, a burlap sack slung over one shoulder. And behind him—

The nickname was new. He'd started it last month, after you'd made him laugh so hard he choked on a berry. Kash shot Haymitch a look.

They never waited for you. Not really. But this time, they'd stopped. That was different. Haymitch was still looking at you, easy and unhurried, like he already knew what you'd say.