The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (The Hunger Games, #0)

by Suzanne Collins

he couldn’t let even Tigris think he’d felt envious of some no-account in the districts.

try not to look down on people who had to choose between death and disgrace.”

What he desired had little to do with nobility and everything to do with being in control.

Under Dr. Gaul’s guidance, the Capitol had reached a new level of retaliation.

I don’t think he would’ve ever won the Games, because he’d have died trying to protect Lucy Gray.” “Oh, like a dog or something.” Lepidus nodded. “A really good one.” “No, not like a dog. Like a human being,” said Lysistrata.

Her shrine to District 2. It was pitiful, the way she clung to that backward mountain region. Poor little displaced person

“You made the top five!” Lepidus beamed at her. “No one can ever take that away from you.” “No,” she said somewhat dubiously. “No, that’s the kind of thing that sticks.”

I’m sorry this is so short, but it’s quite late, and I’ve so much to do. I just wanted to get something off to remind you how much you are loved and missed.

“My friend, your life has just begun!” And then Coriolanus was laughing; they both were. “So this isn’t our ruin?”

Lucy Gray was not only alive, she was in 12, and he would reunite with her next weekend. His girl. His love. His Lucy Gray. They had survived the dean, the doctor, and the Games somehow.

“We pour money into our industries, not into the districts themselves,” said Sejanus. “The people are on their own.”

The voice had an electrifying effect on Arlo, as his face registered first surprise, then horror. “Run!” he screamed. “Run, Lil! Run! Ru — !” The clap of the trapdoor release and subsequent twang of the rope cut him off mid-word,

I wonder if this is where the song came from

Coriolanus felt sure he’d spotted his first mockingjay, and he disliked the thing on sight.

“If I’m helping to kill people in the districts, how is it any better than helping to kill them in the Hunger Games?” asked Sejanus.

“So, Coriolanus Snow, what are you doing in my meadow?” What, indeed? “Just spending some time with my girl,” he answered.

He caught her hand and kissed the palm. “I wanted so badly to help, and I felt so useless.”

Like always. What makes him a victim makes me trash.”

The strain of being a full-fledged adult every day had grown tiresome.

Who needed wealth and success and power when they had love?

Coriolanus hoped this was the final Billy Taupe song. What else could be said, really? Not that it mattered. This might be his song, but she was singing it to Coriolanus. Snow lands on top.

“Private Snow,” he said. “Let me be the first to congratulate you. You leave for officers’ school tomorrow.”

If he’d felt better, he’d have laughed at the irony of how quickly their relationship had deteriorated into their own private Hunger Games.