But What Was It Haymitch Said When

Hey, Look At This!" He Holds Up A Glistening, Perfect Pearl About The Size Of A Pea. "you Know, If You Put Enough Pressure On Coal It Turns To Pearls," He Says Earnestly To Finnick. "no, It Doesn't," Says Finnick Dismissively. But I Crack Up, Remembering That's How A Clueless Effie Trinket Presented Us To The People Of The Capitol Last Year, Before Anyone Knew Us. As Coal Pressured Into Pearls By Our Weighty Existence. Beauty That Arose Out Of Pain.

And It’s All My Fault, Gale. Because Of What I Did In The Arena. If I Had Just Killed Myself With Those Berries, None Of This Would’ve Happened. Peeta Could Have Come Home And Lived, And Everyone Else Would Have Been Safe, Too.” “safe To Do What?” He Says In A Gentler Tone. “starve? Work Like Slaves? Send Their Kids To The Reaping? You Haven’t Hurt People – You’ve Given Them An Opportunity. They Just Have To Be Brave Enough To Take It.

But In School I Remember Hearing That For The Second Quarter Quell, The Capitol Demanded That Twice The Number Of Tributes Be Provided For The Arena. The Teachers Didn't Go Into Much More Detail, Which Is Surprising, Because That Was The Year District 12's Very Own Haymitch Abernathy Won The Crown.

We're Supposed To Be Making Up This Stuff, Playing At Being In Love, Not Actually Being In Love.

I Want To Do Something, Right Here, Right Now, To Shame Them, To Make Them Accountable, To Show The Capitol That Whatever They Do Or Force Us To Do There Is A Part Of Every Tribute They Can't Own. That Rue Was More Than A Piece In Their Games. And So Am I.