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“I volunteer!” I gasp. “I volunteer as tribute!”
Slay queen
At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.
I would have started sobbing
But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.
Savage
The saltiness reminds me of my tears.
This is the most childish thing ive ever read get a fucking grip
“Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping.”
Ahhhhhhhhh
“Because . . . because . . . she came here with me.”
STOP
All that remains of the design-team’s efforts are the flames on my nails. I decide to keep them as reminder of who I am to the audience. Katniss, the girl who was on fire. Perhaps it will give me something to hold on to in the days to come.
This must be some industrial nail polish
Rue.
My sweet baby girl i love you
Peeta Mellark just saved my life.
King shit
She opens her mouth and sings a little four-note run in a sweet, clear voice.
Crying
daisies
Daisies
I gather up an armful and come back to Rue’s side. Slowly, one stem at a time, I decorate her body in the flowers. Covering the ugly wound. Wreathing her face. Weaving her hair with bright colors.
“Bye, Rue,” I whisper. I press the three middle fingers of my left hand against my lips and hold them out in her direction.
This bread came from District 11.
Currently sobbing
“Well, there’s just this and we go home. Then he can’t watch us all the time,” says Peeta.
Peeta!
