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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.
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
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I wonder how she'll make up her mind. Oh, that I do know. I can just catch Gale's last words through the layer of fur. Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without.
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Positioned on my dresser, that white-as-snow rose is a personal message to me. It speaks of unfinished business. It whispers, I can find you. I can reach you. Perhaps I am watching you now.
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The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. That the question of whether I can succeed in this venture has been answered, even if that answer is a resounding no. That if desperate times call for desperate measures, I am free to act as desperately as I want.
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One time, my mother told me that I always eat like I'll never see food again. And I said, I won't unless I bring it home. That shut her up.
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Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.
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Let the Seventy-forth Hunger Games begin, Cato, I think. Let them begin for real.
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I squeeze my eyes shut and try to reach for him across the hundreds and hundreds of miles, to send my thoughts into his mind, to let him know he is not alone. But he is. And I can't help him.
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The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can’t suppress my excitement. Cinna has given me a great advantage. No one will forget me. Not my look, not my name. Katniss. The girl who was on fire.
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I'm going to be the Mockingjay.
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For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.
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Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the capitol. We're very familiar with each other's screams.
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He hates me more, says Peeta. I don't think people in general are his sort of thing.
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I can hear him weeping but I don't care. They probably won't even bother to question her, she's so far gone. Gone right off the deep end years ago in her Games. There's a good chance I'm headed in the same direction. Maybe I'm already going crazy and no one has the heart to tell me. I feel crazy enough.
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That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I'm free to act as desperately as I wish.
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The raw hunk of meat that used to be my enemy makes a sound, and I know where the mouth is. And I think the word he's trying to say is 'please'. Pity, not vengeance sends my arrow flying into his skull.
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I remember the first time I saw you. Your hair was in two braids instead of one. And I remember when you... you sang in the music assembly and the teacher said... Who knows The Valley Song? and your hand shot straight up. After that, I... I watched you going home every day...
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Then I get it, what it means. At least, for me. District 12 only has three existing victors to choose from. Two male. One female... I am going back into the arena.
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Hey, Effie, watch this! says Peeta. He tosses his fork over his shoulder and literally licks his plate clean whit his tongue making loud, satisfied sounds. Then he blows a kiss out to her in general and calls, We miss you, Effie!
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Peeta? I creep along the bank. Well, don't step on me.
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So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts.
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