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We have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared out of your wits.
Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch — this is the Capitol’s way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy.
To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed.
Besides, it isn’t in my nature to go down without a fight, even when things seem insurmountable.
The bird is connected to the ring only by its wing tips. I suddenly recognize it. A mockingjay.
The idea pulls me up short. A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one. Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.
It’s the plant I was named for. And I heard my father’s voice joking, “As long as you can find yourself, you’ll never starve.”
“Katniss, the girl who was on fire.”
Cinna has given me a great advantage. No one will forget me. Not my look, not my name. Katniss. The girl who was on fire.
But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.
Oh you bitch
Perhaps the girl doesn’t even remember me. But I know she does. You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.
I bite my lip. Rue is a small yellow flower that grows in the Meadow. Rue. Primrose. Neither of them could tip the scale at seventy pounds soaking wet.
Because my dress, oh, my dress is entirely covered in reflective precious gems, red and yellow and white with bits of blue that accent the tips of the flame design. The slightest movement gives the impression I am engulfed in tongues of fire. I am not pretty. I am not beautiful. I am as radiant as the sun.
“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.”
“I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning . . . won’t help in my case,” says Peeta. “Why ever not?” says Caesar, mystified. Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. “Because . . . because . . . she came here with me.”
Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.
Rue, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, “Music.”
lethargy.
The news sinks in. Two tributes can win this year. If they’re from the same district. Both can live. Both of us can live. Before I can stop myself, I call out Peeta’s name.
“Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.”
oh the things i would do for this boy
“Why? You know why,” Peeta says. I give my head a slight, painful shake. “Haymitch said you would take a lot of convincing.”
such a lover boy
It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread. “If what, Katniss?” he says softly.
oh this was so hot
“No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew — just like your mother — I was a goner,” Peeta says. “Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you.” “Without success,” I add. “Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck,” says Peeta.
“No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says.
