Got It," I Say. "did You Tell

Jackson Has Devised A Game Called "real Or Not Real" To Help Peeta. He Mentions Something He Thinks Happened, And They Tell Him If It's True Or Imagined, Usually Followed By A Brief Explanation.

I'm Sure They Didn't Notice Anything But You. You Should Wear Flames More Often," He Says. "they Suit You.

She’s Really Gone, Then. The Little Girl With The Back Of Her Shirt Sticking Out Like A Duck Tail, The One Who Needed Help Reaching The Dishes, And Who Begged To See The Frosted Cakes In The Bakery Window. Time And Tragedy Have Forced Her To Grow Too Quickly, At Least For My Taste, Into A Young Woman Who Stitches Bleeding Wounds And Knows Our Mother Can Hear Only So Much.

I Flee What I Can't Fight. What Can Only Do Me Harm.

The Only Thing Worse Than Fighting A Giant Scorpion Was Fighting A Giant Scorpion Who Was Trying To Protect Her Young.