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What about Gale? He's not a bad kisser either, I say shortly. And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other? He asks. No. It wasn't okay with either of you. But I wasn't asking your permission, I tell him. Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. Well, you're a piece of work, aren't you?

Suzanne Collins

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Suzanne Collins
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: August 10
Executive Producer
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Hartford
Connecticut
Suzanne Marie Collins
Suzanne Collins
Asks
Piece
Kisser
Tell
Asking
Wells
Okay
Coldly
Well
Aren
Shortly
Work
Laughing
Gale
Pieces
Laughs
Wasn
Permission
Either
Kissing

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I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best. Well, there's no good response to that. I can hardly dispute it since I was walking around with a syringe to kill Peeta when I found them. Do I really want him dead? What I want...what I want is to have him back.
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Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.
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There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead! I can hear my voice rising in anger. But you won't! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows.
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What do you think? I whisper to Peeta. About the fire? I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine, he says through gritted teeth.
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Closing my eyes doesn't help. Fire burns brighter in the darkness.
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What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?
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People don't need wings to survive Mockingjays do.
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if he goes and dies on me now, I know I'll go completely insane.
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It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death. Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you will find in the arena. Say it's a gigantic cake-
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This is what birds see. Only they're free and safe. The very opposite of me.
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You never know. Say the arena's actually a giant cake- Say we move on, I broke in.
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Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of make my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.
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I'm so tired, Katniss.
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I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you.
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My name is Katniss Everdeen. Why am I not dead? I should be dead.
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Yes, they have to have a victor. Without a victor, the whole thing would blow up in the Gamemakers' faces. They'd have failed the Capitol. Might possibly even be executed, slowly and painfully, while the cameras broadcast it to every screen in the country.
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If I'm going to cry, now is the time. By morning, I'll be able to wash all the damage done by the tears from my face. But no tears come. I'm too tired or too numb to cry. The only thing I feel is a desire to be somewhere else. So I let the train rock me into oblivion.
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Peeta looks me right in the eye and gives my hand what I think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it's just a nervous spasm.
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