Katniss, the girl who was on fire!

You call that a kiss?

And then, when he’s been underwater so long I feel certain he’s drowned, his head pops up right next to me and I start. “Don’t do that,” I say. “What? Come up or stay under?” he says. “Either. Neither. Whatever

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parent's can't give. More food.

That should have been my strategy! By the time I’ve worked through the emotions of surprise, admiration, anger, jealousy, and frustration, I’m watching that reddish mane of hair disappear into the trees well out of shooting range.

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.

‎What is to prevent, say, an uprising?