The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games free pdf ebook was written by on January 06, 2009 consist of 46 page(s). The pdf file is provided by and available on pdfpedia since November 10, 2011.

"the story kept me up for several nights in a row, because even after i was finished, i just lay in bed wide awake thinking about it . . . the hunger games is amazing....

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The Hunger Games pdf

: 4226
: 164
: November 10, 2011
: anonymous
Total Page(s)
: 46
The Hunger Games - page 1
“The story kept me up for several nights in a row, because even after I was finished, I just lay in bed wide awake thinking about it . . . The Hunger Games is amazing.” Stephenie Meyer
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Scholastic Children’s Books An imprint of Scholastic Ltd Euston House, 24 Eversholt Street London, NW1 1DB, UK Registered office: Westfield Road, Southam, Warwickshire, CV47 0RA SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc. First published in the US by Scholastic Inc, 2008 This edition published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd, 2009 Text copyright © Suzanne Collins, 2008 The right of Suzanne Collins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her. ISBN 978 1407 10908 4 A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of Scholastic Limited. Printed in the UK by CPI Bookmarque, Croydon, Surrey Papers used by Scholastic Children’s Books are made from wood grown in sustainable forests. 1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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For James Proimos
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Part I The Tributes
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1 When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course she did. This is the day of the reaping. I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me. Sitting at Prim’s knees, guarding her, is the world’s ugliest cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the colour of rotting squash. Prim named him 3
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Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright f lower. He hates me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with f leas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out OK. My mother got rid of the vermin and he’s a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love. I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has moulded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat’s cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim’s gift to me on reaping day. I put the cheese carefully in my pocket as I slip outside. Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, many of whom 4
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