You call that a kiss?

Scores only matter if they’re very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones.

I am not pretty. I am not beautiful. I am as radiant as the sun.

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it.

You’ve got about as much charm as a dead slug.

So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck," says Peeta.

The Eleventh Plague hits disturbingly close to home An excellent, taut debut novel.