Oh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese.

There was no discussion between them; it was as if the bugs had worked out this whole scenario long ago. Temp put on a burst of speed for the end of the bridge, and Tick turned to face down the army of rats alone.

We're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love, not actually being in love.

A need for revenge can burn long and hot. Especially if every glance in a mirror reinforces it.

He wants as many victors as possible for the cameras to follow in the Capitol. Thinks it makes for better television." "Are you and Beetee going?" I ask. "As many young and attractive victors as possible," Haymitch corrects himself. "So, no. We'll be here.

Sick and disoriented, I'm able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying.