Suzanne Collins

"Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you.".

"Without success," I add.

"Without success."

"And may the odds—" He tosses a berry in a high arc toward me.

I catch it in my mouth and break the delicate skin with my teeth. The sweet tartness explodes across my tongue. "—be ever in your favor!"

"Come on," says Cato. He thrusts a spear into the hands of the boy from District 3, and they head off in the direction of the fire. The last thing I hear as they enter the woods is Cato saying, "When we find her, I kill her in my own way, and no one interferes."

Somehow I don't think he's talking about Rue. She didn't drop a nest of tracker jackers on him.

Winning means fame and fortune. Losing means certain death. The Hunger Games have begun.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can‘t turn you down then, eh?" says Caesar encouragingly.

"I don't think it‘s going to work out. Winning...won‘t help in my case," says Peeta.

"Why ever not?" says Caesar, mystified. Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "Because...because...she came here with me."

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen back home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.

"So you're supposed to give us some advice", I say to Haymitch.

"Here's some advice. Stay Alive," says Haymitch and bursts out laughing.

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.

"Remember, we're madly in love, so it‘s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don’t think of District 12 as a place that cares about me. But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Prim's place, and now it seems I have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

"I want the audience to recognize you when you're in the arena," says Cinna dreamily. "Katniss, the girl who was on fire."

It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.

"I wonder what Gale made of the incident for a moment and then I push the whole thing out of my mind becouse for some reason Gale and Peeta do not coexist well together in my thoughts."