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

by Suzanne Collins

“A truth that’s told with bad intent Beats all the lies you can invent.” — William Blake

“Nothing appears more surprising to those, who consider human affairs with a philosophical eye, than the easiness with which the many are governed by the few; and the implicit submission, with which men resign their own sentiments and passions to those of their rulers.

On long winter nights, she made me practice with it until I could reliably get a fire going, so we wouldn’t have to waste money on matches. A penny saved is a penny earned.

Peacekeepers come around and cut away our shirts with knives. If anyone objects, they laugh and say it’s all the same to the incinerator. It hurts watching them slice through Ma’s careful stitches. I remember her painstakingly laying out those handkerchiefs to make every inch of material count. Now it sits in shreds at my feet.

“Let’s start with the basics. Public opinion is driven by emotion. People have an emotional response to something, then they come up with an argument for why it logically makes sense,” says Plutarch.

I know that sound from a summer day long ago. I was still young enough to have free time.

As my eyes sweep the crowd, I see person after person press the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then extend it to their dead. Our way of saying good-bye to those we cherished. I follow suit, raising my hand high, because I have so many to honor.