The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games, #1)

by Suzanne Collins

I loosen my grasp, but he regains his grip on me. “No, don’t let go of me,” he says.

Peeta rolls his eyes at Haymitch. “She has no idea. The effect she can have.” He runs his

fingernail along the wood grain in the table, refusing to look at me. What on earth does he mean? People help me? When we were dying of starvation, no one helped me! No one except Peeta.

my peeta baby

It’s weird, how much he’s noticed me. Like the attention he’s paid to my hunting. And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either. The flour. The wrestling. I have kept track of the boy with the bread.

Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. “Because . . . because . . . she came here with me.”

ICONICCCC

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. “One more time? For the audience?” he says. His voice isn’t angry. It’s hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.