Legs! I’ve still got legs! Good. Arms, hands. Ooh, fingers. Lots of fingers. Ears? Yes. Eyes: two. Nose… eh, I’ve had worse. Chin - blimey! Hair…I’m a girl! No! No! I’m not a girl! And still not ginger! There’s something else. Something… important, I’m…I’m—I’m…Ha ha! Crashing! Geronimo!


I have the same reaction I did the day Effie Trinket called her name at the reaping. At least, I must go limp, because I find myself at the base of the flagpole, unable to account for the last few seconds. Then I am pushing through the crowd, just as I did before. Trying to shout her name above the roar. I’m almost there, almost to the barricade, when I think she hears me. Because just for a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name.

And that’s when the rest of the parachutes go off.

For a moment, the cameras hold on Peeta’s downcast eyes as what he says sinks in. Then i can see my face, mouth half open in a mix of surprise and protest magnified on the screen as i realize, me! he means me! i press my lips together and stare at the floor, hoping this will conceal the emotions starting to boil up inside of me.