Coriolanus thought about what it had felt like to be in the arena, where there were no rules, no laws, no consequences to one’s actions. The needle of his moral compass had swung madly without direction. Fueled by the terror of being prey, how quickly he himself had become a predator, with no reservations about smashing Bobbin to death. He’d transformed, all right, but not into anything he was proud of.
It’s just the kind of story that catches fire.
The thought of that scruffy old Buttercup posting himself on the bed to watch over Prim comforts me. If she cries, he will nose his way into her arms and curl up there until she calms down and falls asleep. I’m so glad I didn’t drown him.
In any scenario, it’s preferable to have the upper hand, to be the victor rather than the defeated.
I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people.
Why did these people think that all they needed to start a rebellion was anger?
You know what I won’t miss? People. Except for a handful. They’re mostly awful, if you think about it.
Also, the drugs they use to control my pain and mood sometimes make me see things. I guess. I’m still not entirely convinced that I was hallucinating the night the floor of my hospital room transformed into a carpet of writhing snakes.
Clearly, her scent was not on the paper. So, you wrote the proposal alone?” “I did.” There was no point in lying. Lying had probably killed Clemensia.
District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety,” I mutter.
Maybe her gravestone could read, “Casualty of cheap laughs.
Peeta has asked to be coached separately.
Peeta. On the rooftop the night before our first Hunger Games. He understood it all before we’d even set foot in the arena.
People took sides in the argument, but I took the goat.
That explained it. The beautiful, blue light wasn’t from another world; it was from Photos Glow-Glow’s butt.
It gets a little tedious after all these years, but there are much worse games to play.
So supportive. So duplicitous. So self-destructive. Like a moth to a flame.
I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.
The Hunger Games are a reminder of our past, a reminder of the Dark Days when the Capitol waged war on its own people. The Games remind us of the importance of maintaining peace and of the necessity of sacrifice.
Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated?