Mockingjay (The Hunger Games, #3)

by Suzanne Collins

Some walks you have to take alone.

Still, I hate them. But, of course, I hate almost everybody now. Myself more than anyone.

“Well, don’t expect us to be too impressed. We just saw Finnick Odair in his underwear.” I decide to go ahead and like Boggs.

I was their Mockingjay long before I accepted the role.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want to lose our little Mockingjay when she’s finally begun to sing.”

My mother wraps her arms around us. I allow myself to feel young for a moment and rest my head on her shoulder.