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Cleaning me up is just a preliminary step to determining my new look. With my acid-damaged hair, sunburned skin, and ugly scars, the prep team has to make me pretty and then damage, burn, and scare me in a more attractive way.

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
Steps
Scare
Preliminary
Hair
Burn
Prep
Pretty
Damage
Determining
Team
Attractive
Damaged
Look
Skin
Scars
Looks
Skins
Acid
Way
Ugly
Cleaning
Make
Step
Scar
Preps

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I look down at our linked fingers as I loosen my grasp, but he regains his grip on me. “No, don’t let go of me,” he says.
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I'm not flailing now, as my muscles are rigid with the tension of holding myself together.
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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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The audience must be sick to death of the star-crossed lovers from District 12. I know I am.
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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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An ability to look into the confusing mess of life and see things for what they are.
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And then, if you make it to bedtime, you feel the joy of cheating death out of one more day, she said. Do you see?
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It's your own fault for being so camera-ready, I tell Gale. If looks could kill.
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He frosted under heavy guard.
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So we both strip off our boots and socks and, while there’s some improvement, I could swear he’s making an effort to snap every branch we encounter
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Remembering from last year how Haymitch's gifts are often timed to send a message, I make a note to myself. Be friends with Finnick. You'll get food.
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Frankly, our ancestors don't seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars, the broken planet. Clearly, they didn't care about what would happen to the people who came after them.
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My mouth has gone dry as sawdust. I desperately find Cinna in the crowd and lock eyes with him. I imagine the words coming from his lips. 'What's impressed you most since you arrived here?' I rack my brain for something that made me happy here. Be honest, I think. Be honest.
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Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.
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I go back to my room and lie under the covers, trying not to think of Gale and thinking of nothing else.
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I don't know how to say it exactly. Only... I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense? he asks. I shake my head. How could he die as anyone but himself. I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not.
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its not in my nature to go down without a fight even when things seem insurmountable
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You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real, he whispers. Real, I answer. Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.
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Haymitch in my head full-time. Horrifying
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I see now that the circumstances of ones birth are irrelevent. it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are
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