“I’m going to wake Peeta,” I say.
“No, wait,” says Finnick. “Let’s do it together. Put our faces right in front of his.”
Well, there’s so little opportunity for fun left in my life, I agree. We position ourselves on either side of Peeta, lean over until our faces are inches from his nose, and give him a shake. “Peeta. Peeta, wake up,” I say in a soft, singsong voice.
His eyelids flutter open and then he jumps like we’ve stabbed him. “Aa!”
Finnick and I fall back in the sand, laughing our heads off. Every time we try to stop, we look at Peeta’s attempt to maintain a disdainful expression and it sets us off again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!”
Whoever reblogs this by tomorrow at noon gets a promo to over 2k!
Lists of 5, and I’ll bold who I follow.
Must be following me
Likes DO NOT count, and if you are not following, you won’t get a promo. Not to sound selfish, but this is for my followers only.
Also if you follow for the promo and then unfollow…that’s not cool, not cool.
GO!
