More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
March 31 - April 1, 2025
“Happy birthday, Haymitch!” The upside of being born on reaping day is that you can sleep late on your birthday.
Christ. he definitely sarcastically cheers a bottle to the air and says "happy birthday to me" before chugging it all down every year since
The law demands that we atone When we take things we do not own, But leaves the lords and ladies fine Who take things that are yours and mine.
Given his own challenges, you’d think Clerk Carmine would be a champion of our love — I’m certainly supportive of his
Canonical Ally ✊🏽🌈
Fifty-some years ago, the districts rose up against our Capitol’s oppression, kicking off a bloody civil war in Panem. We lost, and in punishment every July 4th, each of the districts routinely has to send two tributes, one girl and one boy between the ages of twelve and eighteen, to fight to the death in an arena. The last kid standing gets crowned as the victor.
project 2075
As Drusilla’s hand dives back into the ball, it seems too much to hope that both Lenore Dove and I will escape this terror. That in a few hours, we’ll be far away from the square, locked in each other’s arms in the cool shade of the woods. I suck in my breath, preparing for my death sentence. Drusilla peers at the final name. “And boy number two is . . . Woodbine Chance!”
WHAT THE FUCK
“None of that!” I’m yanked backward by a Peacekeeper as Drusilla continues. “No good-byes for these people. They’ve lost that privilege after that outrageous display today. Take them straight to the train, and let’s get out of this stinkhole.”
I pray for her on page demise
This reminds me of when I was six and got chiggers and Maysilee nicknamed me “Itchy Itchy Haymitchy.”
what's her plan? bully everyone to death?
Everyone freezes and I wonder if we’re about to be executed on the spot. “Don’t you ever touch me again,” says Maysilee. The color’s gone from her face except for the print of Drusilla’s hand. You got to hand it to Maysilee, nobody’s using footage of her for propaganda.
I underestimated you Ms. donner
I recognize Juvenia, the District 1 escort who Drusilla sneered at, tentatively descending the train steps in snakeskin boots. Behind her come her four tributes, cuffed and chained together, towering over their Peacekeepers. When the car door shuts behind them, the boy bringing up the rear suddenly turns and kicks the window. The glass shatters like an eggshell.
Why are the careers chained???? I mean he didn't help their case but they're TRAINED for this
The Peacekeepers cuff us again and I wait for a chain to link us together, but when it’s produced, the officer in charge waves it away, saying, “Don’t bother.” “Long shots,” Wyatt murmurs.
Oh.
The blue eyes narrow, but he’s not focused on my face. Is he looking at the flint striker?
The one that has a songbird and a snake on it 👀
And this woman had held the boy and done her best as his mentor to shield him from the cameras, which were devouring every awful bit of it. It’s Mags, a victor from District 4. She looks at me sadly, knowingly, and then opens up her arms and says, “I’m so sorry about Louella, Haymitch.” For a moment, I teeter between anger and grief. But the dam finally breaks. I step into her embrace, drop my head on her shoulder, and begin to cry.
SHE IS MORE THAN A NICE LADY HAYMITCH
As he turns, I note the pair of steel-rimmed glasses. While he bears a strong resemblance to Ampert, this is not why he looks familiar. It’s Beetee, a victor from District 3. A cold dread washes over me as the puzzle pieces come together. Ampert is neither a lunatic nor a liar. His father has accompanied him to the Capitol because he’s a victor. And therefore a mentor, assigned to coach his own child to his death in the Fiftieth Hunger Games.
THEY REAPED AND KILLED HIS KID WHAT THE FUCK SUZANNE
STOP MAKING ME LIKE THESE CHILDREN AND GETTING ATTACHED
Livestock-loving District 10 brought horseshoes;
Here I was worried about haymitch’s little flint but 10 is allowed to bring WEAPONS
May I ask how you know that poem, Haymitch?” “Everybody knows it in Twelve.” That’s a big lie, but I want him to think we all learned it in a book, like he did. “Really? Huh. Well, I’ve got something you’ll want to see. It’s in the conservatory.”
This poem is just going to keep popping up
E: a fucking lot
I glance around the refrigerator door as Snow goes into a coughing fit while Plutarch hovers over him. This is probably the best chance I will ever have to fight back against Snow directly. Here’s to you, Louella. I tip open the eagle lid, down the milk, and wipe the moustache from my lip. Then I close the door, holding out the pitcher helplessly. “It’s empty.”
Lmaooooo
“Hide-and-seek is over! You can join us now!” Who is he summoning? My torturers, brought in to reinforce his threat? “So, no more unauthorized chariot rides, I think. No mocking me on or off camera,” he continues. “And I have a belated birthday gift for you. I want it treated with the gratitude it deserves.” He inclines his head in the direction of the conservatory. Standing in the doorway is Louella McCoy.
Bullshit. No way. The gasp that left my mouth has beat out all the previous jaw droppings
“So, he’s going to send her in, whoever she is, and get her killed in the Games?” I ask. “That seems to be the current plan,” admits Plutarch. “I don’t approve of this.” “You’re my hero. I hope I’m just like you when I grow up. Oh, wait a minute, that won’t be happening.”
Fake Louella fixates on the toes of her boots. “Hello, Maysilee, Wyatt, Mags, and Wiress.” “But they couldn’t have —” Wyatt begins. “Who are you?” “My name is Louella McCoy. I’m from District Twelve.” After a long pause, Maysilee says, “That’s not sleeping in my room.”
My initial reaction is “bitch she’s a kid too” but yknow what she’s right
“And what makes you think you can do that? We haven’t noticed that you possess any outstanding skills,” the Head Gamemaker says. “Really?” I smirk. “Because from where I’m standing, looks like I came up with thirty-one people who’ve promised to defend me. But maybe that strategy’s a little too subtle for you.” Her mouth tightens. “And you’re willing to let them die?” “Why not, lady? You are.” They dismiss me.
“Can I see yours now? Since it’s already off?” Maysilee asks me. What can I say? No, because my girlfriend hates you?
ah finally some teenage drama
She loses patience with Lou Lou almost immediately, given that the child can’t do much more than repeat, “My name is Louella McCoy. I’m from District Twelve.” “That’s absolutely dreadful,” says Drusilla. “Flickerman will eat you alive. What’s wrong with you anyway? Snap out of it!” She gives Lou Lou a shake by the shoulders. The contact triggers something in Lou Lou, who begins to scream, “You’re murdering us! You’re murdering us!”
What in the Get Out
Across the room, a glassy-eyed Magno has backed into a corner but managed to clear some space by freeing a six-foot snake from the cage and waving it around. “Where are my tributes? I need to dress them!” People are shrieking, and the Peacekeepers form a huddle to confer over their plan to subdue him. Drusilla looks overjoyed, shouting, “Take him down! Take him down!”
If this man has no haters Drusilla is dead
Caesar eggs on Maysilee, who garners a lot of laughs when she machine-guns the midsection of the front row for their poor taste.
What a wildly delightful way to put it
“No, darling, that’s not how it went down at all. I overstepped, just like my uncles always warn me about. I lost my temper and started hollering and now you’re — oh, Haymitch . . . I don’t want to be on this earth without you.” “So now you’re trying to get them to hang you? You do, and I swear I’ll — I’ll —”
What in the Romeo and Juliet is this
Plutarch grasps my shoulders and gives me a little shake. “No more implicit submission for you, Haymitch Abernathy. Blow that water tank sky high. The entire country needs you to.”
WHAT
WENT
WRONG?!?!!?!?!!
Drusilla stands at the back of the van. “All right, you lot,” she says. “Try not to embarrass me.” Maysilee rallies one last time. “As if you needed our help.” Drusilla slams the door shut on us.
These are programmed for Ampert, and Ampert alone. His look, his smell, his taste. I am losing, I am losing the fight, I am losing him. I know this, but there’s nothing to do but keep swinging. I never even get a glimpse of Ampert, just writhing furry bodies fighting for a piece of him. Finally, as if someone blew a whistle, audible only to them, hundreds of heads pop up and turn in unison toward an unseen master. A mad dash ensues, and in seconds the squirrels have vanished into the foliage. Panting, I watch them fade away. Then I turn back to what I am meant to witness. A small white
...more
SUZANNE WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU
What I see instead is the surprise that transforms his face as the dart pierces his throat.
it better be our favorite bitch
Panache’s sword thuds to the earth and he collapses, senseless. I whip around to see Maysilee emerge from behind a tree. A blowgun balances delicately in her fingers, the mouthpiece attached to a braided vine around her neck. Her latest necklace. Emotionless, she watches Panache expire.
Ugh I wish he went down with a worse death but I’ll take it
“You need to sleep while you can, Haymitch.” “I know but . . . what I’m thinking . . . you and me . . . You remember what Ampert said when you made his token?” There’s a long pause before she says, “Sure. I’ll be your sister.” Our hands reach out at the same time, clasp, and then release. “’Night, Sis.” I roll over and let sleep take me.
😭😭😭
We sit smack down in the clump of katniss, side by side, completely done in.
She just couldn’t resist
Maysilee had the food all laid out on a tarp, like a party. She folded a pair of handkerchiefs into flowers for napkins and even filled the bowl of the wineglass with some kind of pink blossom, likely poisonous, but undeniably decorative.
You know what good for her. Let her have her little enjoyments
“I swear, do this and I’ll never ask you for anything else as long as I live.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, that’s a generous offer.”
“You must be pretty expendable, you three, getting sent in here to tidy up for us.” There’s a pause while everybody considers the truth of this. Then all three Gamemakers make a break for the ladder that leads down to Sub-A. Maritte’s arm snaps back and I think I’m a goner, but the trident whistles over my head and lodges in the mopper, sending him into a pillow of poppies. Almost simultaneously, the woman with the drill grabs at the spot beneath her ear and comes away with a dart. She collapses as the final Gamemaker plunges headfirst through the open berm into Sub-A.
Murdering janitors in the games weren’t on my bingo card
“You’re right,” I tell Maysilee. “You’re one hundred percent right and I’m sorry.” “Sorry?” she sneers. “Maybe you should be the victor, Haymitch. That would give you some time to grow a backbone.” Hello again, meanest girl in town. It only hurts because it’s true. She pulls out the can of sardines and yanks off the lid. “I’m eating this whole can. They’re mine.” She selects a fish and slurps it into her mouth. Boy, she really is mad, to be eating with her fingers.
I’m on her side
“The only thing I’m sure about right now is I don’t want anyone to steal our potatoes,” she admits. “I’ll get them. Then we’ll weigh our options, all right?” I lift my hands in defeat. “Well, if you’re going to drag the potatoes into it, how can I say no?” Maysilee shrugs and disappears into the hedge.
She left to get their POTATOES. This whole time
Also when katniss said “this was almost as bad as us and the berries” and haymitch says not quite NOT QUITE?!? I think you massively fucking downplayed that but I get why he couldn’t just tell them he’d already tried to blow the games up
The next 20 books I read, no one dies. I don’t care if I read spoilers
When I do reach her, she’s so still that I almost miss her. She lies along a slender branch, belly down, like a possum in the moonlight, her bell tucked under her chin, a child-sized knife clutched in one hand. “Hey, Wellie.” Her cracked lips move slightly, but no sound comes out.
Cool get us attached one more time before she dies
Without hesitation, she raises the ax and lets it fly. My knees, already on the verge of giving way, fold like wet cardboard and I collapse to the dirt as the ax whistles over my head into the canyon. That’s when I remember the force field. And what happens to dropped objects. I watch, breathless, for what the love of my life would call poetic justice.
Why do I still feel shocked that he won I’ve known for 17 years
“I won’t hurt you,” I mutter. “I know that,” she says. “I’ve known who you are ever since you helped with my makeup box. And I know your position could not have been easy.” It’s surprisingly touching. “Thanks, Effie.” “But they really are for a greater good. The Hunger Games.” And now she’s lost me.
And 25 years more somehow still didn’t break her
Finally, Mags arrives in a wheelchair while a still-mobile but distressed Wiress twitches her head about in a birdlike fashion, a steady stream of words spouting from her lips. Very bad things have been done to them.
Damn she only made it a year out from the games before they fucked her up
But the recount of what happened in the woods, my tale, begins to deviate almost immediately. Timelines are twisted. Connections misleading. It’s less flat-out lying than lying by omission.
Not me wondering if this is how reality show contestants feel while Haymitch is literally watching people die on screen
“I guess Snow lands on top,” I say under the applause. Utterly guilty on all possible counts, I await his sentence. He merely smiles and says, “Enjoy your homecoming.”
Maybe I’ll just stop reading here. I know what happens I don’t need details
Outside, a plain pine box awaits. “They had hold of each other,” Mr. McCoy says. “Thought we’d let them stay that way.” Ma and Sid clinging to each other for eternity.
Who hurt you Suzanne
There’s a bad moment when I look up and see my ally, wearing her District 12 black, and start for her. “Maysilee!” Her face crumples into tears, hides in a handkerchief. Not Maysilee. Merrilee. Like as two peas in a pod.
I understand the straight up sobbing TikTok’s I saw now
“Well,” says Burdock grimly, “there’s your new house, then.” Only now do I remember the Victor’s Village. Desperate to be alone, I let them take me there, to this strange Capitol cage, which I instantly hate. In the bedroom, they lay me down in the artificially chilled air, and I stare at the wall.
Him letting his house go to absolute shit makes way more sense now than just him being depressed
A boy from a rebel family who brews white liquor and disappears for hours with his niece in the woods does not spell security.
Me at 12: LET THEM BE
Me as a sensible adult with a fully formed brain: hell no
“Charcoal tablets? No, I don’t think so. Why would —” I see her put it together. She leans over, sticks a finger down her throat, and tries to gag the thing up. “I can’t do it. I’ve barely eaten in days. There’s nothing to throw up!” “Come on,” I pull her to her feet. “Come on.” I begin to call for help. “Clerk Carmine! Clerk Carmine!” “Haymitch, I —” A perplexed look crosses her face and she presses a hand to her chest. Her knees give way. “I can’t stand up.”
I literally hold nothing against haymitch anymore about anything
