Louella Mccoy Quotes

Listen, Louella, if you let them treat you like an animal, they will. So don’t let them.

reminding me for all the world of Louella McCoy, my sweetheart of old. And after she volunteered for the Games, that nickname couldn’t help but slip out.

In three, two, one, action.” The McCoy family stares at him numbly. “And cut!” Plutarch crosses to the McCoys. “Sorry. Obviously, I wasn’t clear. When you heard them call Louella, it was a big shock, right? ‘Oh, no!’ Maybe you gasped or cried out her name.

reminding me for all the world of Louella McCoy, my sweetheart of old

I'm Haymitch Abernathy from District Twelve. I shouldn't be here. I was reaped illegally, but no one cares. My neighbor, Louella McCoy, was the only person here I gave a hang about, but you killed her and brought in a body double. So, that kind of frees me up to win these Games.

Very nice. Now, what I need you to do is to react exactly the way you did when you heard them call Louella’s name. In three, two, one, action.” The McCoy family stares at him numbly. “And cut!” Plutarch crosses to the McCoys. “Sorry. Obviously, I wasn’t clear. When you heard them call Louella, it was a big shock, right? ‘Oh, no!’ Maybe you gasped or cried out her name. Anyway, you did something. And now I need you to do the same thing for the camera. Okay?

Who is he summoning? My torturers, brought in to reinforce his threat? “So, no more unauthorized chariot rides, I think. No mocking me on or off camera,” he continues. “And I have a belated birthday gift for you. I want it treated with the gratitude it deserves.” He inclines his head in the direction of the conservatory. Standing in the doorway is Louella McCoy.

She follows Wyatt to the van, leaving me to ponder the possibility that I’ve out-meaned Maysilee. Not something to be proud of. But neither is factoring Louella’s death into our odds. Her body’s not even cold, and he’s reduced her to a number. But she was not a number, she was a little girl I met on the day she was born when Mr. McCoy, his face alight with joy, held her up at the window for all us kids to see. A terrible, dark grief begins to well up inside me, threatening to drown me, but I force it back down. Swallow the sadness, clamp a lid on it, dam it up. They will not use my tears for their entertainment. The effort leaves me dizzy, so I sit against a pillar and watch the birds flitting around the rafters.

I first saw the girl at the Hob when she was just a baby. Burdock was so proud of her, he toted her around everywhere. After he died in that mine explosion, she started coming alone, trading the odd squirrel or rabbit. Tough and smart, her hair in two braids then, reminding me for all the world of Louella McCoy, my sweetheart of old. And after she volunteered for the Games, that nickname couldn’t help but slip out. I didn’t want to let them in, her and Peeta, but the walls of a person’s heart are not impregnable, not if they have ever known love. That’s what Lenore Dove says, anyway.