Because I Can Count On My Fingers

Then I Know Prim Is Right, That Snow Cannot Afford To Waste Peeta's Life, Especially Now, While The Mockingjay Causes So Much Havoc. He's Killed Cinna Already. Destroyed My Home. My Family, Gale, And Even Haymitch Are Out Of His Reach. Peeta's All He Has Left. "so, What Do You Think They'll Do To Him?" I Ask. Prim Sound About A Thousand Years Old When She Speaks."whatever It Takes To Break You.

My Mockingjay Pin Now Lives With Cinna's Outfit, But There's The Gold Locket And The Silver Parachute With The Spile And Peeta's Pearl. I Knot The Pearl Into The Corner Of The Parachute, Bury It Deep In The Recesses Of The Bag, As If It's Peeta's Life And No One Can Take It Away As Long As I Guard It.

I Go To The Saltwater And Wash Off The Blood, Trying To Decide Which I Hate More, Pain Or Itching. Fed Up, I Stomp Back Onto The Beach, Turn My Face Upward And Snap, "hey, Haymitch, If You're Not Too Drunk, We Could Use A Little Something For Our Skin." It's Almost Funny How Quickly The Parachute Appears Above Me. I Reach Up And The Tube Lands Squarely In My Open Hand. "about Time" I Say, But I Can't Keep The Scowl On My Face. Haymitch. What I Wouldn't Give For Five Minutes Of Conversation With Him.

Everything Is About Them, Not The Dying Boys And Girls In The Arena.

He Felt Around Desperately For A Weapon. What Did He Have? Diapers? Cookies? Oh, Why Hadn't They Given Him A Sword? He Was The Stupid Warrior, Wasn't He? His Fingers Dug In The Leather Bag And Closed Around The Root Beer Can. Root Beer! He Yanked Out The Can Shaking It With All His Might. "attack! Attack!" He Yelled.