The Hunger Games (Hunger Games, #1)

by Suzanne Collins

“District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety,” I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.

So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts.

But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make things fair. It doesn’t fill our stomachs.

The reaping is a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well.

He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch – this is the Capitol’s way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy.

you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen.”

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!”

One slip. One slip in thousands. The odds had been entirely in her favour.

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

“I bet my buttons

At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love.

No, the odds are not in my favour today.

Oh, well, I think. There will be twenty-four of us. Odds are someone else will kill him before I do. Of course, the odds have not been very dependable of late.

Will you wear this?” She holds out the circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier. I hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but now I see it’s a small bird in flight. “Your pin?” I say. Wearing a token from my district is about the last thing on my mind. “Here, I’ll put it on your dress, all right?” Madge doesn’t wait for an answer, she just leans in and fixes the bird to my dress. “Promise you’ll wear it into the arena, Katniss?” she asks. “Promise?” “Yes,” I say.

no wonder it’s impossible not to mimic them.

That was part of District 13’s job until they were destroyed.

silent young man dressed in a white tunic offers us all stemmed glasses of wine. I think about turning mine down, but I’ve never had wine, except the home-made stuff my mother uses for coughs, and when will I get a chance to try it again? I take a sip of the tart, dry liquid and secretly think it could be improved by a few spoonfuls of honey.

“Thank you for your consideration,” I say.

“Without being dismissed?” gasps Effie. “I dismissed myself,” I said.

But instead of fleeing the room, the girl closes the door behind her and goes to the bathroom. She comes back with a damp cloth and wipes my face gently, then cleans the blood from a broken plate off my hands. Why is she doing this? Why am I letting her? “I should have tried to save you,” I whisper. She shakes her head. Does this mean we were right to stand by? That she has forgiven me? “No, it was wrong,” I say. She taps her lips with her fingers then points to my chest. I think she means that I would just have ended up an Avox, too. Probably would have. An Avox or dead. I spend the next hour helping the red-headed girl clean the room. When all the rubbish has been dropped down a disposal and the food cleaned away, she turns down my bed. I crawl in between the sheets like a five-year-old and let her tuck me in. Then she goes. I want her to stay until I fall asleep. To be there when I wake up. I want the protection of this girl, even though she never had mine.

I decide to keep them as reminder of who I am to the audience. Katniss, the girl who was on fire.

every moment I give in to fatigue will be an invitation to death.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!”

Sixty seconds. That’s how long we’re required to stand on our metal circles before the sound of a gong releases us. Step off before the minute is up, and landmines blow your legs off. Sixty seconds

There, resting on a mound of blanket rolls, is a silver sheath of arrows and a bow, already strung, just waiting to be engaged. That’s mine, I think. It’s meant for me.

booby-trapped

HEheehhe

So, I’m right about the booby

HSsehehhwhweh

They assume the booby

HOwhhwhwbe

But if this is Prim’s, I mean, Rue’s last request,

“No. Shut up and eat your pears,” I say.

“Besides, I like watching you sleep.

Edward?

must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. Year after year after year. I realize that if I get out of here, that will become my job. To mentor the girl from District 12. The idea is so repellent, I thrust it from my mind.

It’s a long walk