Do I Really Want Him

Caesar Flickerman Asks If The President Has A Date In Mind. "oh, Before We Set A Date, We Better Clear It With Katniss's Mother," Says The President. The Audience Gives A Big Laugh And The President Puts His Arm Around Me. "maybe If The Whole Country Puts Its Mind To It, We Can Get You Married Before You're Thirty." "you'll Probably Have To Pass A New Law," I Say With A Giggle. "if That's What It Takes," Says The President With Conspiratorial Good Humor. Oh, The Fun We Two Have Together.

You Can’t Miss Your Schedule. Every Morning, You’re Supposed To Stick Your Right Arm In This Contraption In The Wall. It Tattoos The Smooth Inside Of Your Forearm With Your Schedule For The Day In A Sickly Purple Ink. 7:00—breakfast. 7:30—kitchen Duties. 8:30—education Center, Room 17. And So On. The Ink Is Indelible Until 22:00—bathing

Anyway, Even If She's Sugarcoating My Good Points, I Appreciate It. Frankly, I Could Use A Little Sugarcoating.

It's The First Gift That's Always The Hardest To Pay Back.

When I Wake, I Have A Brief, Delicious Feeling Of Happiness That Is Somehow Connected With Peeta. Happiness, Of Course, Is A Complete Absurdity At This Point, Since At The Rate Things Are Going, I'll Be Dead In A Day. And That's The Best-case Scenario, If I'm Able To Eliminate The Rest Of The Field, Including Myself, And Get Peeta Crowned As The Winner Of The Quarter Quell. Still, The Sensation's So Unexpected And Sweet I Cling To It, If Only For A Few Moments. Before The Gritty Sand, The Hot Sun, And My Itching Skin Demand A Return To Reality.