The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games, #1)

by Suzanne Collins

Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they’re as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is.

“District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety,”

“We could do it, you know,” Gale says quietly.

They’re not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Gale’s two little brothers and a sister. Prim. And you may as well throw in our mothers, too, because how would they live without us?

“I never want to have kids,” I say.

“I might. If I didn’t live here,” says Gale.

But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come.

The mayor’s daughter, Madge, opens the door. She’s in my year at school.

You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until you reach the age of eighteen, the final year of eligibility, when your name goes into the pool seven times. That’s true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire country of Panem.

Even so, she’s having trouble keeping the blouse tucked in at the back.

“Tuck your tail in, little duck,” I say, smoothing the blouse back in place.

I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but the appetites of those in charge protect me. Not everyone can claim the same.

Possibly because they know me from the Hob, or knew my father, or have encountered Prim, who no one can help loving.

So instead of acknowledging applause, I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. All of this is wrong.

It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

Because who else would have volunteered for Prim?

Starvation is never the cause of death officially. It’s always the flu, or exposure, or pneumonia. But that fools no one.

My parents never hit us. I couldn’t even imagine it.

Did he mean for me to have them? He must have. Because there they were at my feet.

It didn’t occur to me until the next morning that the boy might have burned the bread on purpose. Might have dropped the loaves into the flames, knowing it meant being punished, and then delivered them to me.

I dropped my gaze, embarrassed, and that’s when I saw it. The first dandelion of the year. A bell went off in my head. I thought of the hours spent in the woods with my father and I knew how we were going to survive.

To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed.

It’s the richest place I’ve ever been in, with thick, deep carpets and a velvet couch and chairs. I know velvet because my mother has a dress with a collar made of the stuff.

Someone else enters the room, and when I look up, I’m surprised to see it’s the baker, Peeta Mellark’s father. I can’t believe he’s come to visit me.

People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive.

“They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?” She holds out the circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier. I hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but now I see it’s a small bird in flight.

“Your pin?” I say. Wearing a token from my district is about the last thing on my mind. “Here, I’ll put it on your dress, all right?” Madge doesn’t wait for an answer, she just leans in and fixes the bird to my dress. “Promise you’ll wear it into the arena, Katniss?” she asks. “Promise?”

I’m left thinking that maybe Madge really has been my friend all along.

“How different can it be, really?” says Gale grimly.

Johanna Mason,

In school, they tell us the Capitol was built in a place once called the Rockies. District 12 was in a region known as Appalachia. Even hundreds of years ago, they mined coal here. Which is why our miners have to dig so deep.

The woods became our savior, and each day I went a bit farther into its arms.

Plants are tricky. Many are edible, but one false mouthful and you’re dead.

I’m so glad I didn’t drown him.

“Well, what’s this?” says Haymitch. “Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?”

They’re such total idiots. And yet, in an odd way, I know they’re sincerely trying to help me.

Days of hunting and gathering for this one meal and even then it would be a poor substitution for the Capitol version.

I’m glad now I have Peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady, solid as a rock.

For the first time, I feel a flicker of hope rising up in me. Surely, there must be one sponsor willing to take me on! And with a little extra help, some food, the right weapon, why should I count myself out of the Games?

“I’m sure they didn’t notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often,” he says. “They suit you.”

You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.

Surprisingly, little Rue comes up with a seven. I don’t know what she showed the judges, but she’s so tiny it must have been impressive.

“I give up, sweetheart. Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience see how openly you despise them.”

I want the protection of this girl, even though she never had mine.

I am not pretty. I am not beautiful. I am as radiant as the sun.

Cinna thinks about this a moment. “Why don’t you just be yourself?”

My spirit. This is a new thought. I’m not sure exactly what it means, but it suggests I’m a fighter. In a sort of brave way.

In District 12, looking old is something of an achievement since so many people die early.

A hush falls over the crowd at the sight of this magical wisp of a tribute.

Will I never stop owing him?