“You’re alive,” I whisper, pressing my palms against my cheeks, feeling the smile that’s so wide it must look like a grimace. Peeta’s alive. And a traitor. But at the moment, I don’t care. Not what he says, or who… — Suzanne Collins Copy Share Image
You're alive," I whisper, pressing my palms against my cheeks, feeling the smile that's so wide it must look like a grimace. Peeta's alive. — Suzanne Collins Copy Share Image
