Mockingjay (The Hunger Games, #3)

by Suzanne Collins

Something small and quiet, like a match being struck, lights up the gloom inside me.

Fire is catching

the music is provided by a choir of children accompanied by the lone fiddler who made it out of 12 with his instrument.

CLERK CARMINE????????

Her magenta hair’s fluffed up like a cloud and decorated with gilded butterflies. Grease from the half-eaten sausage she’s holding smears her lipstick. The expression on her face says she recognizes me. She opens her mouth to call for help. Without hesitation, I shoot her through the heart.

Effie's sister also had magenta hair ...

I don’t feel a rush of joy, although theoretically my allies have broken through. I am transfixed by that lemon yellow coat.

Closing my eyes doesn’t help. Fire burns brighter in the darkness.

“Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other.”

As the flowers flare up, a burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it. Fire beats roses again.

But there are much worse games to play.