Mockingjay (The Hunger Games, #3)

by Suzanne Collins

Still, I hate them. But, of course, I hate almost everybody now. Myself more than anyone.

So real

“They’ll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.”

“Well, don’t expect us to be too impressed. We just saw Finnick Odair in his underwear.”

Frankly, our ancestors don’t seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars and the broken planet. Clearly, they didn’t care about what would happen to the people who came after them.

“Fire is catching!” I am shouting now, determined that he will not miss a word. “And if we burn, you burn with us!”

takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.”

“Can we have a coffee?” asks Finnick.

I love finnicks humor

That is not going to happen.

My poor babies

Underground. Which I hate. Like mines and tunnels and 13. Underground, where I dread dying, which is stupid because even if I die above ground, the next thing they’ll do is bury me underground anyway.