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

by Suzanne Collins

A tendency toward obsession was hardwired into his brain and would likely be his undoing if he couldn’t learn to outsmart it.

Dean Casca Highbottom, the man credited with the creation of the Hunger Games,

The zoo was his show, and he and Lucy Gray were the stars.

“Thanks. I left mine at home,” she replied. Lucy Gray’s mention of home hung in the air between them. A reminder of a door she’d never reopen, loved ones she’d never see again. He couldn’t stand the thought of being torn from his own home.

For a moment, Coriolanus could taste it — the sweetness of the victory, the cheers of the crowd. If he could make Lucy Gray a favorite, imagine what he could do with a powerhouse like Marcus! And really, what chance did she have? His eyes traveled to Lucy Gray leaning against the bars like a trapped animal. In the shadowy light, her color, her specialness, had faded, making her just another drab, bruised creature.

“If history teaches you anything, it’s how to make the unwilling comply.”

“Compassion is the key to the Games. Empathy, the thing we lack. Right, Casca?”

He buried his head in his hands, confused, angry, and most of all afraid. Afraid of Dr. Gaul. Afraid of the Capitol. Afraid of everything. If the people who were supposed to protect you played so fast and loose with your life . . . then how did you survive? Not by trusting them, that was for sure.

“It will only take a handful to get the word out,” said the Grandma’am. “It’s just the kind of story that catches fire.”

“Well, you know what they say. The show’s not over until the mockingjay sings,” she said.

His girl. His. Here in the Capitol, it was a given that Lucy Gray belonged to him, as if she’d had no life before her name was called out at the reaping. Even that sanctimonious Sejanus believed she was something he could trade for. If that wasn’t ownership, what was?

As to the noble ideas of the Capitol, did they really believe that? What he desired had little to do with nobility and everything to do with being in control.

If Dr. Gaul decided he was to go into the Capitol Arena, that’s where he would go, even if his prize was not at stake. He was just like the subjects of her other experiments, students or tributes, of no more consequence than the Avoxes in the cages. Powerless to object.

“I started out as a medical doctor, you know,” she said. “Obstetrics.” How awful, Coriolanus thought. To have you be the first person in the world a baby sees.

“Well, mission accomplished with that little one from Eight. You beat him to a pulp. Have to make up some story for that buffoon Flickerman to tell in the morning. But what a wonderful opportunity for you. Transformative.”

So he had what? Murdered the boy? No, not that. It was an open-and-shut case of self-defense. But what, then? He had killed him, certainly. There would never be any erasing that. No regaining that innocence. He had taken human life. “Wasn’t it? More than I could’ve hoped. I needed you to get Sejanus out of the arena, of course, but I wanted you to taste that as well,” she said.

“What happened in the arena? That’s humanity undressed. The tributes. And you, too. How quickly civilization disappears. All your fine manners, education, family background, everything you pride yourself on, stripped away in the blink of an eye, revealing everything you actually are. A boy with a club who beats another boy to death. That’s mankind in its natural state.”

boy with a club who beats another boy to death. That’s mankind in its natural state.”

Who are human beings? Because who we are determines the type of governing we need.

Did you tell your best friend his crush was a cannibal? Never a rule book when you needed one.

“Well, what I’m noticing is the new interactivity of the Games,” said Dean Highbottom. Lucky nodded. “Interactivity. Go on.” “Right from the beginning. Even before, actually. When the bombing occurred in the arena, it not only took out participants, it changed the landscape,” the dean continued. “Changed the landscape,” Lucky repeated. “Yes. Now we have the barricade. The beam. Access to the tunnels. It’s a brand-new arena, and it’s made the tributes behave in a brand-new way,” the dean explained. “And we have drones!” said Lucky. “Exactly right. Now the audience is an active player in the Games.” Dean Highbottom inclined his head toward Lucky. “And you know what that means.” “What?” said Lucky. The dean spoke the next words slowly, as if to a small child. “It means we’re all in the arena together, Lucky.”

in. Without the control to enforce the contract, chaos reigned. The power that controlled needed to be greater than the people — otherwise, they would challenge it. The only entity capable of this was the Capitol.

“Do you hear that, Coriolanus? It’s the sound of Snow falling.”

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

Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where they strung up a man they say murdered three? Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Maybe she planned to sing this next Saturday as a secret message for him to meet her at midnight in the hanging tree?

“Sure,” she said. “You’re mine and I’m yours. It’s written in the stars.” “No escaping that.” He leaned over and kissed her, flushed with happiness, because although he did not believe in celestial writings, she did, and that would be enough to guarantee her loyalty. Not that his own loyalty was in question.

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

She could fly around District 12 all she liked, but she and her mockingjays could never harm him again.