Katniss, There Is No District Twelve.

She Reaches In, Digs Her Hand Deep Into The Ball, And Pulls Out A Slip Of Paper. The Crowd Draws In A Collective Breath, And Then You Can Hear A Pin Drop, And I'm Feeling Nauseous And So Desperately Hoping That It's Not Me, That It's Not Me, That It's Not Me. Effie Trinket Crosses Back To The Podium, Smoothes The Slip Of Paper, And Reads Out The Name In A Clear Voice. And It's Not Me. It's Primrose Everdeen.

Who Says I Can't Handle It? I Can Handle It," Said Gregor Obviously Not Handling It.

I Guess This Is A Bad Time To Mention I Hung A Dummy And Painted Seneca Crane's Name On It.

It's Funny, Because Even Though They're Rattling On About The Games, It's All About Where They Were Or What They Were Doing Or How They Felt When A Specific Event Occurred. . . . Everything Is About Them, Not The Dying Boys And Girls In The Arena

That What?" "that I Knew I Misjudged You. That You Love Him. I'm Not Saying In What Way. Maybe You Don't Know Yourself. But Anyone Paying Attention Could See How Much You Care About Him," He Says Gently.