Make Sure They Remember You.

But It's Posy, Gale's Five-year-old Sister, Who Helps The Most. She Scoots Along The Bench To Octavia And Touches Her Skin With A Tentative Finger. “you're Green. Are You Sick?” “it's A Fashion Thing, Posy. Like Wearing Lipstick,” I Say. “it's Meant To Be Pretty,” Whispers Octavia, And I Can See The Tears Threatening To Spill Over Her Lashes. Posy Considers This And Says Matter-of-factly, “i Think You'd Be Pretty In Any Color.

Winning The Games Will Make You Famous, Losing Will Mean Death.

Delly Lost Her Temper At Peeta Over How He Treated You. She Got Very Squeaky. It Was Like Someone Stabbing A Mouse With A Fork Repeatedly.

Peeta, How Come I Never Know When You're Having A Nightmare?” I Say. “i Don't Know. I Don't Think I Cry Out Or Thrash Around Or Anything. I Just Come To, Paralyzed With Terror,” He Says. “you Should Wake Me,” I Say, Thinking About How I Can Interrupt His Sleep Two Or Three Times On A Bad Night. About How Long It Can Take To Calm Me Down. “it's Not Necessary. My Nightmares Are Usually About Losing You,” He Says. “i'm Okay Once I Realize You're Here.

No More Fear Of Hunger. A New Kind Of Freedom. But What Then ... What? What Would My Life Be Like On A Daily Basis? Most Of It Has Been Consumed With The Acquisition Of Food. Take That Away And I'm Not Really Sure Who I Am, What My Identity Is. The Idea Scares Me Some.