The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games, #1)

by Suzanne Collins

Peeta and I know the other’s survival means our own death.

And there I am, blushing and confused, made beautiful by Cinna’s hands, desirable by Peeta’s confession, tragic by circumstance, and by all accounts, unforgettable.

“I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not.”

I’m not allowed to bet, but if I could, my money would be on you.” “Truly?” I whisper. “Truly,” says Cinna. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Good luck, girl on fire.”

Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

She reminds me of Prim.

To hate the boy from District 1, who also appears so vulnerable in death, seems inadequate. It’s the Capitol I hate, for doing this to all of us.

Rue’s death has forced me to confront my own fury against the cruelty, the injustice they inflict upon us.

I press the three middle fingers of my left hand against my lips and hold them out in her direction.

What must it have cost the people of District 11 who can’t even feed themselves?

Tears

this is a first. A district gift to a tribute who’s not your own.

I want them to know I know where it came from. That the full value of their gift has been recognized.

It tastes of home.

Somewhere his family is weeping for him.

“You here to finish me off, sweetheart?”

AHHHH

“Well, don’t step on me.”

Funny peeta alert, guess near death experiences realy bring out his humor

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

AHHHH

Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He’s great at this stuff.

BECAUSE HE'S NOT FAKING

“Besides I like watching you sleep. You don’t scowl. Improves your looks a lot.” This, of course, brings on a scowl that makes him grin.

“Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?”

It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.

This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another.

No one has held me like this in such a long time.

‘Because when he sings . . . even the birds stop to listen.’”

“No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew — just like your mother — I was a goner,” Peeta says.

“I remember everything about you,” says Peeta,

Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. Year after year after year.

Haymitch defender til I die.

Because if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really.

I run for them and surprise even myself when I launch into Haymitch’s arms first. When he whispers in my ear, “Nice job, sweetheart,”

Jeg blir rørt jeg

the faces of all the tributes who will never return flash across my mind and there’s a heavy, tight place in my chest.

Now I see what the audience saw, how he misled the Careers about me, stayed awake the entire night under the tracker jacker tree, fought Cato to let me escape and even while he lay in that mud bank, whispered my name in his sleep.

That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children.