Sunrise on the Reaping (The Hunger Games, #0.5)

by Suzanne Collins

Wyatt snores in the other bed. That alone makes me think I was right about him not being my ally. How’s he going to stay hidden in the arena if he’s sawing logs like that?

“You snore,” I tell Wyatt. “No, I don’t. I was fake-snoring on the train.” “Bad news. You also real-snore.” “Like a bear,” Maysilee confirms. “I could hear you through the wall.”

The snake seems to have given Lou Lou a sense of power, and she walks by tributes three times her size, brandishing the snake and hissing.

“Find Haymitch.” A pair of little hands wrap around my boots and Lou Lou’s face, splattered in dry blood and dirt, materializes over them. “Found him,” she says.

Jumpscare

Since we’re not immediately attacked by mutts, I figure the Gamemakers have decided to let my rascally behavior ride.

Grateful I don’t snore, I let myself fall into a dreamless sleep.

We sit smack down in the clump of katniss, side by side, completely done in. I can barely hear her whisper. “One of us has to win this thing.” My eyes travel up the long stems to the arrow-shaped leaves, the white petals, concealing us from Capitol cameras. “Why’s that?” I whisper back. “One of us has to be the worst victor in history. Tear up their scripts, tear down their celebrations, set fire to the Victor’s Village. Refuse to play their game.”

A sister is someone you fight with and fight for. Tooth and nail.