It was 3 a.m. and I was still awake, hiding under my covers with a flashlight in my mouth shining on the finger-indented pages of Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins. Spring break 2012. I was in sixth grade, competing with my dance coach to see who could finish the trendy new book series the fastest, and I was determined to win. With dark circles under my eyes and a new sense of smug accomplishment, I proudly marched into my dance studio the next day and announced my victory. The conception of my love of reading began long before those long middle school nights, but grew exponentially during the phase of trendy teen books. Now, it’s 4 p.m., and I am at the mall with my family. My sister gravitates towards the Lush store, my mother towards