For the last year his grandma had been slipping in and out of reality. One minute she was as clear as a bell and the next she was calling him Simon. Who was Simon? He had no idea.

Got it," I say. "Did you tell Peeta this?" "Don't have to," says Haymitch. "He's already there.

There's no point in comforting words, in telling her she'll be all right. She's no fool. Her hand reaches out and I clutch it like a lifeline. As if it's me who's dying instead of Rue.

Your favorite colour . . . it's green?" "That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange." "Orange?" He seems unconvinced. "Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once." "Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you." But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.

You have a... remarkable memory." "I remember everything about you. You're the one who wasn't paying attention.

I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm. "Tuck your tail in, little duck," I say, smoothing the blouse back in place. Prim giggles and give me a small "Quack." "Quack yourself," I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me.

hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home," I say. "Katniss, I live three houses away from you," he says.