It Starts At Midnight.

A Light Was On In The Kitchen. His Mother Sat At The Kitchen Table, As Still As A Statue. Her Hands Were Clasped Together, And She Stared Fixatedly At A Small Stain On The Tablecloth. Gregor Remembered Seeing Her That Way So Many Nights After His Dad Had Disappeared. He Didn't Know What To Say. He Didn't Want To Scare Her Or Shock Her Or Ever Give Her Any More Pain. So, He Stepped Into The Light Of The Kitchen And Said The One Thing He Knew She Wanted To Hear Most In The World. "hey, Mom. We're Home.

Yes, Everyone In The Districts Will Be Watching Me To See How I Handle This Death Sentence, This Final Act Of President Snow’s Dominance. They Will Be Looking For Some Sign That Their Battles Have Not Been In Vain. If I Can Make It Clear That I’m Still Defying The Capitol Right Up To The End, The Capitol Will Have Killed Me…but Not My Spirit. What Better Way To Give Hope To The Rebels?

"if I Could Grow Wings, I Could Fly. Only People Can't Grow Wings," He Say's. "real Or Not Real?" "real," I Say. "but People Don't Need Wings To Survive." "mockingjays Do."

I Don’t Stand A Chance If He Doesn't Get Better. You’ll Never Be Able To Let Him Go. You’ll Always Feel Wrong About Being With Me.” “the Way I Always Felt Wrong Kissing Him Because Of You,” I Say. Gale Holds My Gaze. “if I Thought That Was True, I Could Almost Live With The Rest Of It.

Tonight. After The Reaping, Everyone Is Supposed To Celebrate. And A A Lot Of People Do, Out Of Relief That Their Children Have Been Spared For Another Year. But At Least Two Families Will Pull Their Shutters, Lock Their Doors, And Try To Figure Out How They Will Survive The Painful Weeks To Come.