Mockingjay (The Hunger Games, #3)

by Suzanne Collins

He understands I don’t want anyone with me today. Not even him. Some walks you have to take alone.

“Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem.”

Still, I can never get around the fact that District 13 was instrumental in 12’s destruction.

And it takes too much energy to stay angry with someone who cries so much.

As bad as it makes you feel, you’re going to have to do some killing, because in the arena, you only get one wish. And it’s very costly.” “It costs your life,” says Caesar. “Oh, no. It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people?” says Peeta. “It costs everything you are.” “Everything you are,” repeats Caesar quietly.

“Katniss . . . he’s still trying to keep you alive.”

To keep me alive? And then I understand. The Games are still on. We have left the arena, but since Peeta and I weren’t killed, his last wish to preserve my life still stands.

In some ways, District 13 is even more controlling than the Capitol.

“But if I’d had a weapon that could’ve stopped what I saw happen in Twelve . . . if I’d had a weapon that could have kept you out of the arena . . . I’d have used it.”

The Capitol seal on a wing glows clearly through the flames. “Fire is catching!” I am shouting now, determined that he will not miss a word. “And if we burn, you burn with us!”

But the truth is, I don’t trust the rebels or Plutarch or Coin.

“I knew you’d kiss me.” “How?” I say. Because I didn’t know myself. “Because I’m in pain,” he says. “That’s the only way I get your attention.”

The recognition that with every cheer, Peeta slips even farther from our grasp.

“So, what do you think they’ll do to him?” I ask. Prim sounds about a thousand years old when she speaks. “Whatever it takes to break you.”

It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.”

Snow will ensure that his life is much worse than death.

How is it that until Peeta and I were thrust upon him, there was no one at all in his life? What did Snow do to them?

Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake.

“I saw Peeta yesterday. Through the glass.” “What’d you think?” I ask. “Something selfish,” says Gale. “That you don’t have to be jealous of him anymore?” My fingers give a yank, and a cloud of feathers floats down around us. “No. Just the opposite.” Gale pulls a feather out of my hair. “I thought . . . I’ll never compete with that. No matter how much pain I’m in.” He spins the feather between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t stand a chance if he doesn’t get better. You’ll never be able to let him go. You’ll always feel wrong about being with me.”

Stone conquers people every time.

Someone joins me, his body tense. Finnick, of course. Because only a victor would see what I see so immediately. The arena. Laced with pods controlled by Gamemakers. Finnick’s fingers caress a steady red glow over a doorway. “Ladies and gentlemen . . .” His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. “Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!”

Prim walks me as far as the hospital doors. “How do you feel?” “Better, knowing you’re somewhere Snow can’t reach you,” I say. “Next time we see each other, we’ll be free of him,” says Prim firmly. Then she throws her arms around my neck. “Be careful.”

Boggs forces the Holo into my hand. His lips are moving, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. I lean my ear down to his mouth to catch his harsh whisper. “Don’t trust them. Don’t go back. Kill Peeta. Do what you came to do.”

“Don’t let him take you from me.” Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to . . .” I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.” His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs.

I’m almost there, almost to the barricade, when I think she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name. And that’s when the rest of the parachutes go off.

But there’s no going back. Gradually, I’m forced to accept who I am. A badly burned girl with no wings. With no fire. And no sister.

Closing my eyes doesn’t help. Fire burns brighter in the darkness.

But I wasn’t watching Coin. I was watching you, Mockingjay. And you were watching me. I’m afraid we have both been played for fools.”

Apparently, the end of Snow’s reign didn’t equal the end of his terror.

I can’t believe how normal they’ve made me look on the outside when inwardly I’m such a wasteland.

Was it like this then? Seventy-five years or so ago? Did a group of people sit around and cast their votes on initiating the Hunger Games?

I begin to sing. At the window, in the shower, in my sleep. Hour after hour of ballads, love songs, mountain airs. All the songs my father taught me before he died, for certainly there has been very little music in my life since.

Fire beats roses again.

“She’s dead, you stupid cat. She’s dead.”

He must know that the unthinkable has happened and to survive will require previously unthinkable acts. Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he’s there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night.

That what I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.

when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”

My children, who don’t know they play on a graveyard.