Want a sugar cube?" he asks in his old seductive voice.

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.

for some reason Gale and Peeta do not coexist well in my thoughts.

Just give him the medicine!" I scream at her. "Give it to him! Who are you, anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand!

You would think after all the hours I’d spent with Gale– watching him talk and laugh and frown– that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn’t imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands [...] could entrap me… I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest.

Of course you are. The tributes were necessary to the Games, too. Until they weren't," I say. "And then we were very disposable - right, Plutarch?

I don't have a talent, unless you count hunting illegally, which they don't. Or maybe singing, which I wouldn't do for the Capitol in a million years. My mother tried to interest me in a variety of suitable alternatives from a list Effie Trinket sent her. Cooking, flower arranging, playing the flute. None of them took, although Prim had a knack for all three. Finally Cinna stepped in and offered to help me develop my passion for designing clothes, which really required development since it was non-existent.