Mockingjay (The Hunger Games, #3)

by Suzanne Collins

But I had already set something in motion that I had no ability to control.

there’s plenty of blame to go around. But without them, I would not have been part of a larger plot to overthrow the Capitol or had the wherewithal to do it.

They have a whole team of people to make me over, dress me, write my speeches, orchestrate my appearances — as if that doesn’t sound horribly familiar

Our hands find each other, holding fast to a part of 12 that Snow has somehow failed to destroy.

Bonnie and Twill, the District 8 refugees who I encountered in the woods last winter, weren’t so far from their destination after all. They apparently didn’t make it, though. When I asked about them in 13, no one seemed to know who I was talking about.

There was already a substantial underground facility here, developed over centuries to be either a clandestine refuge for government leaders in time of war or a last resort for humanity if life above became unlivable.

The Capitol demolished the visible remains of the district

The way you can’t travel between districts makes this feel like overkill. Who is gonna see?

Peeta doesn’t need a brush to paint images from the Games. He works just as well in words.

“Oh, no. It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people?” says Peeta. “It costs everything you are.”

They had to build up a rebel base in the Capitol, get some sort of underground organized in the districts,”

I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. “Katniss . . . he’s still trying to keep you alive.” To keep me alive? And then I understand. The Games are still on.

“Katniss, I don’t think you understand how important you are to the cause. Important people usually get what they want.

For a couple of people like Gale and me, who’ve been in charge of our families’ food supply for years, it doesn’t sit well. We know how to be hungry, but not how to be told how to handle what provisions we have. In some ways, District 13 is even more controlling than the Capitol.

“There, you see? And look how moral you two are! Virtually incorruptible.”

What? 😅

That is to say, let’s find the most stunning Mockingjay look possible, and then work your personality up to deserving it!”

Wow, rude.

“So well intended, and yet so insulting,” Gale whispers in my ear.

I’m amused this is the tag line they put on Gale’s promo picture in the movie box set that includes TBSBAS when this isn’t in the films at all.

I wrap my arms tightly around the sketchbook and allow myself to feel hopeful. This must be the right decision. If Cinna wanted it.

💔

“Weren’t we all?” says Plutarch.

🧐

For someone who works with a Gamemaker, she’s awfully sensitive. But I guess she’s used to seeing unpleasant things only on a screen.

“No, I want you to rethink it and come up with the right opinion,”

Finally, he straps a sheath divided into three cylinders of arrows to my back. “Just remember: Right side, fire. Left side, explosive. Center, regular. You shouldn’t need them, but better safe than sorry.”

Yes! The color coding is fine for loading the quiver, but useless for shooting.

“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.

Frankly, our ancestors don’t seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars and the broken planet. Clearly, they didn’t care about what would happen to the people who came after them. But this republic idea sounds like an improvement over our current government.

I had expected bombed-out buildings and instead find myself confronted with broken human bodies.

I send a silent thank-you to Dalton for suggesting I wash off the makeup. How ridiculous, how perverse I would feel presenting that painted Capitol mask to these people. The damage, the fatigue, the imperfections. That’s how they recognize me, why I belong to them.

“Those people you met, they were expendable. To Snow, anyway. If the Capitol wins, what will it do with a bunch of damaged slaves?”

I feel fine, really. Except for my head, and my leg, and the soreness from the bruises, and the nausea that hit a couple minutes after I ate. Maybe the wheelchair’s a good idea.

I imagine death from all sides. The last moment before seeing a shell hit the ground, feeling the wing blown from my plane and the dizzying nosedive into oblivion, the warehouse roof falling down at me while I’m pinned helplessly to my cot.

Things I caused with a pull of my bowstring.

At least Finnick doesn’t applaud or act all happy when it’s done. He just says, “People should know that happened. And now they do.”

For a moment I have an image of a lone stranger, sometime far in the future, wandering lost in the wilderness and coming upon this small place of refuge, with the pile of split logs, the hearth, the poker. Wondering how it came to be.

“I should’ve drowned you when I had the chance.” His ears flatten and he raises a paw. I hiss before he gets a chance, which seems to annoy him a little, since he considers hissing his own personal sound of contempt. In retaliation, he gives a helpless kitten mew that brings my sister immediately to his defense.

One man, who I think I knocked to the floor, catches my eye and rubs his elbow resentfully. I almost hiss at him, too.

there’s this piercing sort of pain where my heart is. Maybe I’m even having a heart attack, but it doesn’t seem worth mentioning.

There’s a chance that the old Peeta, the one who loves you, is still inside. Trying to get back to you. Don’t give up on him.”

I look at my little sister and think how she has inherited the best qualities our family has to offer:

This is what they’ve been doing. Taking the fundamental ideas behind Gale’s traps and adapting them into weapons against humans.

The foreshadowing of this being a page after summing Prim up so perfectly is brilliant and so painful.

Outside of Prim, my mother, and Gale, how many people in the world love me unconditionally?

In retrospect, I guess I should have known there was a problem right then. Because why were we looking for her, when the reverse should have been true?

Stone conquers people every time.

“I’m not their slave,” the man mutters. “I am,” I say. “That’s why I killed Cato . . . and he killed Thresh . . . and he killed Clove . . . and she tried to kill me. It just goes around and around, and who wins? Not us.

‘Bread and Circuses.’ The writer was saying that in return for full bellies and entertainment, his people had given up their political responsibilities and therefore their power.”

But even a quiet celebration causes a stir in 13, where they seem to have no holidays at all.

All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.

“Fine. I’ll train. But I’m going to the stinking Capitol if I have to kill a crew and fly there myself,” says Johanna. “Probably best not to bring that up in training,” I say. “But it’s nice to know I’ll have a ride.”

I love this whole section of the book with Katniss & Johanna and hate they couldn’t fit it in to two whole movies.

remind them it’s not a mistake to go on living.

I wonder what the suicide rate is in 13. No entertainment, holidays, celebrations… ? If that’s true. Katniss isn’t the most reliable and doesn’t talk to the 13 people, really.

“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.”

It’s as if they don’t want to entirely lose the Mockingjay, but they want to downgrade my role to foot soldier. Since I don’t care, it’s amusing rather than upsetting to imagine the arguments going on back in 13.

Maybe they do. But if Coin sent Peeta here, she’s decided something else as well. That I’m of more use to her dead than alive.

Finnick is the expert on both of Peeta’s Games, as he was a mentor in the first