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

In the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too.

How much better my life has been for knowing him. For loving him, even if it's only in the limited way that I can manage. But I never get the chance.

It's weird, how much he's noticed me... And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either.

I'm unaware that my feet are moving to the table until I'm inches from the holograph. My hand reaches in and cups a rapidly blinking green light. Someone joins me, his body tense. Finnick, of course. Because only a victor would see what I see so immediately. The arena. Laced with pods controlled by Gamemakers. Finnick's fingers caress a steady red glow over a doorway. "Ladies and gentlemen..." His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!

I'm on a frosting sailboat, tossed around by blue-green waves, the deck shifting beneath my feet.

I don't know what I expected from my first meeting with Peeta after the announcement. A few hugs and kisses. A little comfort maybe. Not this. I turn to Haymitch. "Don't worry, I'll get you more liquor.