Peeta smiles and douses Haymitch's knife in white liquor from a bottle on the floor. He wipes the blade clean on his shirt tail and slices the bread. Peeta keeps all of us in fresh baked goods. I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch drinks. We have our own ways to stay busy, to keep thought of our time as contestants in the Hunger Games at bay.

How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I’m certain I love?

Katniss, got that spile?" Finnick asks, snapping me back to reality.

If you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, you gain favor.

I do think you're mad and I'll still go with you.

He hasn't accepted his death. He is already fighting hard to stay alive. Which also means that kind Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread, is fighting hard to kill me.

He hates me more," says Peeta. "I don't think people in general are his sort of thing.