Peeta’s beside me, dressed in an outfit identical to mine. “What did Finnick Odair want?” he asks.
I turn and put my lips close to Peeta’s and drop my eyelids in imitation of Finnick. “He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets,” I say in my best seductive voice.
-Catching Fire p.211
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. And more than once, I have turned in the school hallway and caught his eyes trained on me, only to quickly flit away. I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people. Maybe if I had thanked him at some point, I’d be feeling less conflicted now. I though about it a couple of times, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself. And now it never will. Because we’re going to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death. Exactly how am I suppose to work in a thank-you in there? Somehow it just won’t seem sincere if I’m trying to slit his throat.
-The Hunger Games p.32
So have you. So have I. And Finnick and Haymitch and Beetee. Don’t get me started on Annie Cresta. The arena messed us all up pretty good, don’t you think? Or do you still feel like the girl who volunteered for your sister?
Johanna Mason (Mockingjay p.239)
“Yeah, but… I mean, for the Capitol, you’re pure,” he says, clearly trying to mollify me. “For me, you’re perfect. They’re just teasing you.”
“No, they’re laughing at me, and so are you!” I say.
“No.” Peeta shakes his head, but he’s still suppressing a smile. I’m seriously rethinking the question of who should get out of these Games alive when the other elevator opens.
-Catching Fire p.216
The hatred I feel for him, for the phantom girl, for everything, is so real and immediate that it chokes me. Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it?
-Catching Fire p.117
“It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.”
“Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding on to my flowers.
“Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” he says.
-The Hunger Games p.372
That’s what nettles me. It’s the implication that there’s something going on between Gales and Madge. And I don’t like it.
-Catching Fire p.116
“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. Not the districts. Always the Capitol. But I’m tired of being a piece in their Games.”
The point of my arrow shifts upward. I release the string. And president Coin collapses over the side of the balcony and plunges to the ground. Dead.
“Oh, let’s see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair… it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up,” Peeta says.
“Your father? Why?” I ask.
“He said,” ‘See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,’” Peeta says.
“What? You’re making that up!” I exclaim.
“No true story,” Peeta says. “And I said, ‘A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could’ve had you you?’ And he said, ‘Because when he sings… even the birds stop to listen.’”
-The Hunger Games p.300