I try to forgive her for my father's sake. But to be honest, I'm not the forgiving type.
I have two older sisters and one older brother and hold them largely responsible for the trouble I got into growing up. I believe as the youngest child, that is my right.
And don't you let your guard down for a second because you think anything's inevitable.
The raw hunk of meat that used to be my enemy makes a sound, and I know where the mouth is. And I think the word he's trying to say is 'please'. Pity, not vengeance sends my arrow flying into his skull.
My mother says healers are born, not made.
But Gale is not one to keep secrets from me. "Katniss, there is no District Twelve."
Charred bits of black silk swirl into the air, and pearls clatter to the stage… I’m in a dress of the exact design of my wedding dress, only it’s the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that’s when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings. Because Cinna had turned me into a mockingjay.
I turn and put my lips close to Peeta's and drop my eyelids in imitation... "He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets," I say in my best seductive voice.
I wonder if Effie will still be wearing that silly pink wig, or is she'll be sporting some other unnatural color especially for the Victor Tour.
It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death." "Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you will find in the arena. Say it's a gigantic cake-
Oh, Peeta, Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart.
What about Gale?" "He's not a bad kisser either," I say shortly. "And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?" He asks. "No. It wasn't okay with either of you. But I wasn't asking your permission," I tell him. Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. "Well, you're a piece of work, aren't you?
Finnick!" Something between a shriek and a cry of joy. A lovely if somewhat bedraggled young woman--dark tangled hair, sea green eyes--runs toward us in nothing but a sheet. "Finnick!" And suddenly, it's as if there's no one in the world but these two, crashing through space to reach each other. They collide, enfold, lose their balance, and slam against a wall, where they stay. Clinging into one being. Indivisible. A pang of jealousy hits me. Not for either Finnick or Annie but for their certainty. No one seeing them could doubt their love.
You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.
I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.
As we curve around into the loop of the City Circle, I can see that a couple of other stylists have tried to steal Cinna and Portia's idea of illuminating their tributes. The electric-light-studded outfits from District 3, where they make electronics, at least make sense. But what are the livestock keepers from Distric 10, who are dressed as cows, doing with flaming belts? Broiling themselves? Pathetic.
She's not here," I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. "She's not here. You can hiss all you like. You won't find Prim." At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. "Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead.
Remember that even in war there is a time for restraint. A time to hold back your sword.
Underground. Which I hate. Like mines and tunnels and 13. Underground, where I dread dying, which is stupid because even if I die aboveground, the next thing they'll do is bury me underground anyway.
Never," said Gregor. "I'll never get rid of you, no matter how hard I try." It was no longer an effort to say the words. "I love you." "I love you, too," said Luxa. After that there was nothing left to say.
Enobaria smiles at Johanna. 'Don't look so smug,' says Johanna. 'We'll kill you anyway.
When I ask Plutarch about his absence, he just shakes his head and says, "He couldnt face it." "Haymitch? Not able to face something? Wanted a day off, more likely," I say. "I think his actual words were 'I couldn't face it without a bottle,'" says Plutarch.
Fire beats roses again.
Not if we blow it up," Gale says brusquely. His intent, his full intent, becomes clear. Gale has no interest in preserving the lives of those in the Nut. No interest in caging the pray for later use. This is one of his death traps.
Something flickers across his bloodshot eyes. Pain.
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