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

by Suzanne Collins

Tigris had said to trust her, and he did. Only his cousin’s cleverness with a needle had saved him so far.

Watching the bright pages of his picture books — the very ones he’d pored over with his mother — reduced to ashes had never failed to bring him to tears. But better off sad than dead.

Everyone had learned to despise waste. It was creeping back into fashion, though. A sign of prosperity, like a decent shirt.

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

As she led Coriolanus into the kitchen, he reminded himself that self-control was an essential skill, and he should be grateful his grandmother provided daily opportunities to practice it.

People had short memories. They needed to navigate the rubble, peel off the grubby ration coupons, and witness the Hunger Games to keep the war fresh in their minds. Forgetting could lead to complacency, and then they’d all be back at square one.

This reaping day, like most, was shaping up to be a scorcher. But what else could you expect on July 4th?

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

“And last but least, District Twelve girl . . . she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

“I know. I know. I’m so blameless I’m choking on it,” said Sejanus.

What are lies but attempts to conceal some sort of weakness?

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. And if you couldn’t trust them, who could you trust? All bets were off.

So now that loudmouth Arachne was a defender of a righteous and just land. Yes, she laid down her life taunting her tribute with a sandwich, thought Coriolanus. Maybe her gravestone could read, “Casualty of cheap laughs.”

“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.

But what he really felt was jealous.

“You’re not alone.” He took her hand. “And you won’t be alone in the arena; we’ll be together. I’ll be there every moment. I won’t take my eyes off of you. We’ll win this thing together, Lucy Gray. I promise.”

“I thought you might want to use your own.”

Then she gave him a kiss. Not a peck. A real kiss on the lips, with hints of peaches and powder. The feel of her mouth, soft and warm against his own, sent sensations surging through his body. Rather than pulling back, he held her even tighter as the taste and touch of her made his head spin. So this was what people were talking about! This was what made them so crazy! When they finally broke apart, he drew a deep breath, as if surfacing from the depths. Lucy Gray’s lashes fluttered open, and the look in her eyes matched his own. They simultaneously leaned in for another kiss when the Peacekeepers laid hands on her and led her away.

“No, Coriolanus,” said Mrs. Plinth in a hushed voice. “No.” She nodded at the screen. “My boy’s right there.”

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

“You know, when you came in, I was weighing the merits of suicide.”

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.

Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where the dead man called out for his love to flee? Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

but something about the mockingjays repelled him. He distrusted their spontaneous creation. Nature running amok. They should die out, and die out soon.

Clerk Carmine brought Lucy Gray a plant he’d uprooted from the lake, with pointy leaves and small white flowers. “Hey, you found some katniss.

“Some people call them swamp potatoes, but I like katniss better. Has a nice ring to it.”

Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise. Here it’s safe, here it’s warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.

“We were more than friends. We were like brothers.” Hoff gave him a sympathetic look. “Then all I can do is express the Capitol’s sincerest gratitude for your sacrifice.” Wait. What? Coriolanus stared at him in confusion. “Sir?” “Dr. Gaul received your message from the jabberjay,”

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.

Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where the dead man called out for his love to flee? Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free? Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be

Are you, are you Coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

This was his life now. Digging for worms and being at the mercy of the weather. Elemental. Like an animal. He knew this would be easier if he wasn’t such an exceptional person. The best and the brightest humanity had to offer.

Although he couldn’t help hoping that, as the dean drew his final breath, he’d realize what so many others had realized when they’d challenged him. What all of Panem would know one day. What was inevitable. Snow lands on top.