I Go Back To My Room And

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.

I Swing My Arms To Loosen Myself Up. Place My Fists On My Hips. Then Drop Them To My Sides. Saliva's Filling My Mouth At A Ridiculous Rate And I Feel Vomit At The Back Of My Throat. I Swallow Hard And Open My Lips So I Can Get The Stupid Line Out And Go Hide In The Woods And-that's When I Start Crying.

Never," Said Gregor. "i'll Never Get Rid Of You, No Matter How Hard I Try." It Was No Longer An Effort To Say The Words. "i Love You." "i Love You, Too," Said Luxa. After That There Was Nothing Left To Say.

Charred Bits Of Black Silk Swirl Into The Air, And Pearls Clatter To The Stage… I’m In A Dress Of The Exact Design Of My Wedding Dress, Only It’s The Color Of Coal And Made Of Tiny Feathers. Wonderingly, I Lift My Long, Flowing Sleeves Into The Air, And That’s When I See Myself On The Television Screen. Clothed In Black Except For The White Patches On My Sleeves. Or Should I Say My Wings. Because Cinna Had Turned Me Into A Mockingjay.

I Can Almost Hear Haymitch Groaning As I Team Up With This Wispy Child. But I Want Her. Because She's A Survivor, And I Trust Her, And Why Not Admit It? She Reminds Me Of Prim.