The Hunger Games (Hunger Games, #1)

by Suzanne Collins

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course she did. This is the day of the reaping.

“I volunteer!” I gasp. “I volunteer as tribute!”

It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you

You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.

I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.