- She was a gift, he knew it, and he must treat her as such. But how best to exploit her showstopping entrance? How to wrangle some success from a dress, a snake, a song?
- On the way, they passed three bodies, recognizing one as that of a young maid who served tea so nicely at the Cranes’ afternoon gatherings.
- And here he was in his uniform, clutching a rose like some lovestruck schoolboy, hoping she would — what? Like him? Trust him? Not kill him on sight?
- “I think your odds get better by the minute,” said Coriolanus, adjusting a hot pink rosebud in her hair. It matched the one on his lapel, just in case anyone needed a reminder of who Lucy Gray belonged to. “Well, you know what they say. The show’s not over until the mockingjay sings,” she said. “The mockingjay?” He laughed. “Really, I think you’re just making these things up.”
- He knew the gifts would pour into the arena for her. That her success, even now, reflected back on him, making it his success. Snow lands on top and all that. He knew he should be elated at this turn of events and jumping up and down inside while presenting a modest, pleased front.
- The girl sized him up, and for a minute he feared she was going to either walk away or, worse, laugh at him. Instead she reached out and delicately plucked a petal from the flower in his hand.
- Without turning he knew it was the girl, his girl, and he felt immense relief that he was not entirely alone. He thought of how cleverly she had played the audience after the mayor’s assault, how she had won them all with her song. She was right, of course.
- “People love children,” said Coriolanus. But even as the words came out of his mouth, he questioned them. During the war, he had been bombed and starved and abused in multiple ways, and not just by the rebels.
- Coriolanus didn’t like sharing the spotlight, but Sejanus’s presence could protect him.
- He still wanted her to, though. “But if people like you, they might bring you more food. We don’t have much extra at home.” His cheeks burned in the dark. Why on earth had he admitted that to her? “No? I always thought you had plenty to spare in the Capitol,” she said. Idiot, he said to himself. But then he met her gaze and realized that, for the first time, she looked genuinely interested in him. “Oh, no. Especially not during the war. One time I ate half a jar of paste just to stop the pains in my stomach.”
- There was one more consideration. He had something Sejanus Plinth wanted, and wanted badly. Sejanus had already usurped his position, his inheritance, his clothes, his candy, his sandwiches, and the privilege due a Snow. Now he was coming for his apartment, his spot at the University, his very future, and had the gall to be resentful of his good fortune. To reject it. To consider it a punishment, even. If having Marcus as a tribute made Sejanus squirm, then good. Let him squirm. Lucy Gray was one thing belonging to Coriolanus that he would never, ever get.
- “Just like your father’s,” the Grandma’am frequently reminded him. He wished he had his mother’s eyes instead, but never said so. Maybe it was best to take after his father. His mother had not really been tough enough for this world.
- His appearance startled them, and when a few opened their mouths to plead with him, he realized they were Avoxes. Their cries reverberated and he caught a glimpse of small black birds perched above them. The name jabberjay popped into his mind. A brief chapter in his genetics class. The failed experiment, the bird that could repeat human speech, that had been a tool for espionage until the rebels had figured out its abilities and sent it back carrying false information. Now the useless creatures were creating an echo chamber filled with the Avoxes’ pitiful wails.
- What had just happened? Was Clemensia dead? He had not begun to come to terms with Arachne’s violent end, and now this. It was like the Hunger Games. Only they weren’t district kids. The Capitol was supposed to protect them. He thought of Sejanus telling Dr. Gaul it was the government’s job to protect everybody, even the people in the districts, but he still wasn’t sure how to square that with the fact that they’d been such recent enemies. But certainly the child of a Snow should be a top priority. He could be dead if Clemensia had written the proposal instead of him. He buried his head in his hands, confused, angry, and most of all afraid.
- “You must hate me. You should. I would hate me,” he said. “I don’t hate you. The Hunger Games weren’t your idea,” she replied. “But I’m participating in them. I’m helping them happen!” His head dropped in shame. “I should be like Sejanus and at least try to quit.”
- He could see Lucy Gray trying to hold on to a shred of dignity, sitting as upright as the chains would allow and gazing straight ahead, ignoring the corpse swinging gently over her head. But it was no use. The dirt, the shackles, the public display — it was too much to overcome. He tried to imagine conducting himself under those circumstances, until he realized this was undoubtedly what Sejanus was doing, and snapped out of it.
- So now that loudmouth Arachne was a defender of a righteous and just land. Yes, she laid down her life taunting her tribute with a sandwich, thought Coriolanus. Maybe her gravestone could read, “Casualty of cheap laughs.”
- “Cover your face! Use the napkin!” he called out. She didn’t look over but must have heard, because she rolled to her side and retrieved it from her pocket. The biscuits and chicken fell to the ground as she pressed the cloth to her face. He had a vague thought that this would not be conducive to her singing.
- “What about Lysistrata? Is she all right?” She’d been behind him. The Grandma’am looked uncomfortable. “Oh, her. She’s fine. She’s going around saying that big, ugly boy from District Twelve protected her by throwing his body over her, but who knows? The Vickers family loves the spotlight.” “Do they?” asked Coriolanus skeptically. He could not recall, not once, ever seeing a Vickers in the spotlight, except for a brief annual news conference in which they gave President Ravinstill a clean bill of health. Lysistrata was a self-contained, efficient person who never drew attention to herself.
- His girl. His. Here in the Capitol, it was a given that Lucy Gray belonged to him, as if she’d had no life before her name was called out at the reaping. Even that sanctimonious Sejanus believed she was something he could trade for. If that wasn’t ownership, what was? With her song, Lucy Gray had repudiated all that by featuring a life that had nothing to do with him, and a great deal to do with someone else. Someone she referred to as “lover,” no less. And while he had no claim on her heart — he barely knew the girl! — he didn’t like the idea of anyone else having it either. Although the song had been a clear success, he felt somehow betrayed by it. Even humiliated.
- Sejanus appeared, in another brand-new suit, with a rumpled little woman in an expensive flowered dress on his arm. It didn’t matter. You could put a turnip in a ball gown and it would still beg to be mashed. Coriolanus had no doubt this could only be Ma.
- Fortunately, Tigris, who was genuinely sweet to everyone, came backstage to find him and took over chatting with the Plinths.
- “Then be kind, Coryo,” she snapped. “And try not to look down on people who had to choose between death and disgrace.”
- The security that could only come with power. The ability to control things. Yes, that was what he’d loved best of all.
- The previous night’s jealousy over her loser of a boyfriend and the way her star quality sometimes outshone his own evaporated.
- “Most people just stared at him. Jessup spit in his eye. I told him it wasn’t over until the mockingjay sang, but that only confused him.
- “I’ll be a wreck tomorrow! When I told you that you mattered to me, I didn’t mean as my tribute. I meant as you. You, Lucy Gray Baird, as a person. As my friend. As my —” What was the word for it? Sweetheart? Girlfriend? He could not claim more than a crush, and that might be one-sided.
- Then she gave him a kiss. Not a peck. A real kiss on the lips, with hints of peaches and powder. The feel of her mouth, soft and warm against his own, sent sensations surging through his body. Rather than pulling back, he held her even tighter as the taste and touch of her made his head spin. So this was what people were talking about! This was what made them so crazy!
- But Lucy Gray was his tribute, headed into the arena. And even if the circumstances were different, she’d still be a girl from the districts, or at least not Capitol. A second-class citizen. Human, but bestial. Smart, perhaps, but not evolved.
- “Yes, it’s too bad she’s not likely to last the day,” said Dr. Gaul. How he hated the pair of them. Gloating. Baiting him. Still, all he could allow himself was an indifferent twitch of the shoulders. “Well, as they say, it’s not over until the mockingjay sings.”
- In fact, if you thought about it, they almost were Capitol, and only by a series of misfortunes had somehow landed, or quite possibly been mistakenly detained, in District 12. Surely people could see how at home Lucy Gray seemed in the Capitol? And Lucky had to agree that yes, yes, there was something special about the girl.
- “It’s just . . . I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about sitting through this. I know it’s to punish the districts, but haven’t we punished them enough? How long do we have to keep dragging the war out?” “I think Dr. Gaul believes forever,” he said. “Like she told us in class.”
- Was she thinking of him now? Was she missing him the way he was missing her? He hoped she would make an appearance tomorrow and he could get her some food and water. Remind the audience of her existence.
- “Back to wherever he came from,” said Ma. “It’s what we do, back home. When someone dies.” Coriolanus couldn’t help feeling embarrassed for her. If you ever needed proof of the districts’ backwardness, there you had it. Primitive people with their primitive customs. How much bread had they wasted with this nonsense? Oh, no, he starved to death! Somebody get the bread! He had a sinking feeling that his supposed friendship was going to come back to haunt him. As if on cue, the phone rang.
- “I’m so sorry, Coryo,” said Sejanus. “I’m so sorry.” Coryo was a nickname for old friends. For family. For people Coriolanus loved. And this was the moment Sejanus decided to try it out? If he’d had the energy, Coriolanus would have reached over and strangled him.
- Eventually, his companion would grow tired, and they could go back and catch up on their letter writing. Sejanus, Tigris, his friends, the faculty, all of them had been dead wrong about him. He’d never been motivated by love or ambition, only a desire to get his prize and a nice, quiet bureaucratic job pushing papers around and leaving him plenty of time to attend tea parties. Cowardly and . . . what had Dean Highbottom called her? Oh, yes, vapid. Vapid, like his mother. What a disappointment he’d have been to Crassus Xanthos Snow.
- With no younger siblings or other relatives, Coriolanus had little experience with kids, but it made him feel special, the way she’d attached herself to him, the cool little hand pressed trustingly in his. “So, you saw me on the television?”
- Sejanus turned to Coriolanus. “We’ll see you later?” Coriolanus felt self-conscious. “Do I look okay?” “Gorgeous. Trust me, that lip’s working for you, soldier,” said Sejanus, and he headed back toward the house with Maude Ivory.
- This was, for lack of a better word, romantic. He moved forward as quietly as possible. As a rule, she mystified him, and he welcomed the chance to observe her without her usual defenses in place.
- If his brief foray in the Games had left him nervous and nightmarish, he could only imagine how damaged she was. The last month had upended their lives and changed them irrevocably. Sad, really, as they were both rather exceptional people, for whom the world had reserved its harshest treatment.
- “You covered beautifully for me on that one.” “Did my best.” She considered things for a minute. “Well, that’s it, then. I saved you from the fire, and you saved me from the snakes. We’re responsible for each other’s lives now.” “Are we?” he asked. “Sure,” she said. “You’re mine and I’m yours. It’s written in the stars.” “No escaping that.” He leaned over and kissed her, flushed with happiness, because although he did not believe in celestial writings, she did, and that would be enough to guarantee her loyalty. Not that his own loyalty was in question. If he hadn’t fallen in love with any of the girls in the Capitol, it was unlikely District 12 could offer much else in the way of temptation.
- “It’s in the stars, I guess,” Coriolanus said with a smile. It was time anyway that he confronted Billy Taupe and laid down a few rules. Billy Taupe had to accept that Lucy Gray was no longer his, but belonged firmly, and for always, to Coriolanus.
- “He’s a liar and a louse. Sure, I flirt with anybody. It’s part of my job. But what he’s implying, that just isn’t true.” Lucy Gray looked over at the window. “And what if it was? What if it was that or letting Maude Ivory starve? Neither of us would have let that happen, no matter what it took. Only, he’s got a different set of rules for him than for me. Like always. What makes him a victim makes me trash.” This brought back disturbing memories of his conversation with Tigris, and Coriolanus changed the subject quickly. “He’s seeing the mayor’s daughter now?”
- “To what district?” asked Coriolanus. “No district, really,” said Barb Azure. “Up where the Capitol didn’t care about.” Coriolanus felt embarrassed for them. No such place existed. At least not anymore. The Capitol controlled the known world. For a moment, he imagined a group of people in wild animal furs scraping out an existence in a cave somewhere.
- “A desperate one. But look around!” Sejanus grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “How long can you expect them to go on like this?” Coriolanus felt a surge of hatred as he remembered the war, the devastation the rebels had brought to his own life. He yanked his arm free. “They lost the war. A war they started. They took that risk. This is the price they pay.”
- Coriolanus planned to use the hours until dinner studying for the officer candidate test, but his conversation with Sejanus had planted an idea in his brain. It grew rapidly until it wiped out everything else. Dr. Gaul had defended him. Well, not defended him. But made sure Strabo Plinth understood that Coriolanus was in an entirely different class than his delinquent son. Coriolanus’s crime had been only “a piece of faulty strategy,” which didn’t sound like much of a crime at all. Perhaps she hadn’t written him off entirely? She’d seemed to take special pains with his education during the Games. Singled him out.
- So supportive. So duplicitous. So self-destructive. Like a moth to a flame. Coriolanus started a bit, remembering Pluribus’s letter. Wasn’t that what Dean Highbottom had kept muttering after his fight with Coriolanus’s father all those years ago? Almost. He’d used the plural. “Like moths to a flame.” As if an entire flock of moths were flying straight into an inferno.
- He felt trapped here on base, while she could freely roam the night. In some ways, it had been better to have her locked up in the Capitol, where he always had a general idea of what she was doing. For all he knew, Billy Taupe was trying to worm his way back into her heart at this very moment. Why pretend he wasn’t at least a little jealous? Perhaps he should have had him arrested after all. . .
- “Mockingjays, the locals call them.” “And what can they do?” asked Coriolanus. “Not sure. I’ve been watching them for the last few days. They’ve no ability to mimic speech. But they have a better, more sustained ability to repeat music than their mothers,” she said. “Sing something.” Coriolanus only had one song in his repertoire. Gem of Panem, Mighty city, Through the ages, you shine anew. The mockingjay cocked its head and then sang back.
- Coriolanus agreed they were probably harmless. He spent the rest of the afternoon asking questions and treating the birds gently to make up for his callous suggestion. He didn’t mind the jabberjays so much — they seemed rather interesting from a military standpoint — but something about the mockingjays repelled him. He distrusted their spontaneous creation. Nature running amok. They should die out, and die out soon. At the end of the day, though they found themselves in possession of over thirty jabberjays, not one mockingjay had been caught in the traps.
- Out of earshot of the scientists, Bug shook his head. “Is that good for them?” “I don’t know. It’s what they’re built to do,” said Coriolanus. “They’d be happier if we just left them in the woods,” said Bug. Coriolanus wasn’t sure Bug was right. For all he knew, they’d wake up in the Citadel lab in a few days, wondering what that atrocious ten-year nightmare in District 12 had been.
- “I came with no other hope,” said Coriolanus. It was funny how the society talk of the Capitol seemed natural with the Covey.
- “I hate to think of them caged up, when they’ve had a taste of freedom,” Lucy Gray said. “What do they expect to find back in their labs?” “I don’t know. If their weapons still work?” he guessed. “Sounds like torture, having someone controlling your voice like that.” Her hand reached up to touch her throat. Coriolanus thought that a bit dramatic but tried to sound comforting. “I don’t think there’s a human equivalent.” “Really?
- He wanted to go. To be with her for a whole day. He was still upset, but it was stupid. She hadn’t accused him of anything, really. The conversation had just gotten off track. It was all on account of those stupid birds. She was reaching out; did he really want to push her away? He saw her so little he could not afford moodiness. “All right. We’ll come after breakfast.”
- Oh, a ghost story. Ugh. Boo. So ridiculous. Well, he’d try hard to love it when he saw the Covey tomorrow. But, really, who named their child after a ghost girl? Although, if the girl was a ghost, where was her body? Maybe she got tired of her negligent parents sending her into blizzards and ran off to live in the wild.
- “Stay away from that patch near the rocks,” warned Lucy Gray. “Snakes like it there.” “She always knows where they’ll be,” Maude Ivory told Sejanus as she led him away. “She catches them in her hands, but they scare me.”
- That left Coriolanus with Lucy Gray to collect dry wood for a fire. It all excited him a little, the swimming half-naked among wild creatures, the building of the fire in the open air, the unorchestrated time with Lucy Gray.
- The song quieted Maude Ivory, and Coriolanus felt his anxieties melt away. Full of fresh food, shaded by the trees, Lucy Gray singing softly beside him, he began to appreciate nature. It really was beautiful out here. The crystal clean air. The lush colors. He felt so relaxed and free. What if this was his life: rising whenever, catching his food for the day, and hanging out with Lucy Gray by the lake? Who needed wealth and success and power when they had love? Didn’t it conquer all?
- “Trust is important.” “I think it’s more important than love. I mean, I love all kinds of things I don’t trust. Thunderstorms . . . white liquor . . . snakes. Sometimes I think I love them because I can’t trust them, and how mixed up is that?” Lucy Gray took a deep breath. “I trust you, though.”
- On the whole, he was beginning to weary of the infusion of music into his life. Invasion might be a better word. It seemed to be everywhere these days: birdsong, Covey song, bird-and-Covey song. Perhaps he did not share his mother’s love of music after all. At least, such a quantity of it. It consumed his attention greedily, demanding to be listened to and making it hard to think.
- The song grated on him. It sounded like another Billy Taupe–inspired number. Why didn’t she write something about him instead of dwelling on that nobody? He was the one who’d saved her life after Billy Taupe had bought her a ticket to the arena.
- If Bobbin’s death had been self-defense, what was Mayfair’s? Not premeditated murder. Not murder at all, really. Just another form of self-defense. The law might not see it that way, but he did. Mayfair may not have had a knife, but she had the power to get him hanged. Not to mention what she’d do to Lucy Gray and the others.
- Coriolanus buried his face in his hands. He had killed Sejanus as surely as if he’d bludgeoned him to death like Bobbin or gunned him down like Mayfair. He’d killed the person who considered him his brother. But even as the vileness of the act threatened to drown him, a tiny voice kept asking, What choice did you have? What choice? No choice. Sejanus had been bent on self-destruction, and Coriolanus had been swept along in his wake, only to be deposited at the foot of the hanging tree himself.
- His eyes filled with tears. They would hang him, but she would be there, knowing he was still a genuinely good person. Not a monster who’d cheated or betrayed his friend, but someone who’d really tried to be noble in impossible circumstances. Someone who had risked everything to save her in the Games. Someone who’d risked it all again to save her from Mayfair. The hero of her life.
- Hating himself, and hating Sejanus Plinth even more, he walked toward the building that housed the generator, almost not caring if he was apprehended. What a bitter disappointment, to have a second chance at a bright future so irrevocably stripped away.
- Heavy, dark clouds rolled in, providing some relief from the beating sun but adding to his oppression. This was his life now. Digging for worms and being at the mercy of the weather. Elemental. Like an animal. He knew this would be easier if he wasn’t such an exceptional person. The best and the brightest humanity had to offer. The youngest to pass the officer candidate test. If he’d been useless and stupid, the loss of civilization would not have hollowed out his insides in this manner. He’d have taken it in stride. Thick, cold raindrops began to plop down on him, leaving wet marks on his fatigues.
- And he did love her! He did! It was just that, only a few hours into his new life in the wilderness, he knew he hated it. The heat, and the worms, and those birds yakking nonstop . . .
- Adrenaline sharpened his senses, and he noticed a snapped branch here, a scuff mark in the moss there. He felt a bit guilty, frightening her this way. What was she doing, quivering in the bushes while she tried to suppress her sobs? The idea of life without him must be breaking her heart.
- “Guns? Not that I know of. How would he get guns?” Coriolanus was beginning to enjoy himself a bit.
- “And my father was killed by a rebel sniper.” Lucy Gray sighed. “Now you’re mad.” “No.” But he was. He tried to swallow his anger. “I’m just tired. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week. And I’m sorry about your father — I’m sorry about my father — but I don’t run Panem.”
- After supper, he tried not to show his impatience as he waited for his bunkmates to ready themselves. As he’d decided to keep his romance secret, he planned to slip away once they’d arrived at the Hob. That left the problem of Sejanus. He’d lied about the money, but maybe he was just trying to fit in with the rest of his penniless bunkmates.
- I’ve still got most of the money Dean Highbottom gave me.” Coriolanus stopped in his tracks. “Dean Highbottom? Dean Highbottom gave you money?” “He did, but it was kind of on the quiet. First, he apologized for what I’d been through, then he stuffed a wad of cash into my pocket. Glad to have it. The Covey didn’t perform while I was gone. Too shook up over losing me,” she said. “Anyway, I can pay for those strings if he’s of a mind to help.”
- “Hoped you would. Didn’t know. The odds didn’t seem in my favor.”
- “You found me,” she said. In District 12? In Panem? In the world itself? Never mind, it didn’t matter. “You knew I would.”
- Maybe he was not cut out to be a lover. Maybe he was more of a loner at heart. Coriolanus Snow, more loner than lover. One thing about Billy Taupe, he reeked of passionate feelings. Is that what Lucy Gray wanted? Passion, music, liquor, moonlight, and a wild boy who embraced them all? Not a perspiring Peacekeeper showing up at her door on a Sunday morning with a split lip and a sagging bag of ice.
- That’s me, Coriolanus wanted to tell people around him. I’m her true love. And I saved her life.
- Some of the numbers bordered on unintelligible, with un-familiar words that Coriolanus struggled to get the gist of, and he remembered Lucy Gray saying that they were from another time. During these in particular, the five Covey seemed to turn in on themselves, swaying and building complicated harmonies with their voices. Coriolanus didn’t care for it; the sound unsettled him. He sat through at least three songs of this kind before he realized it reminded him of the mockingjays.
- That’s her when she’s happy, he thought. She’s beautiful! Beautiful in a way anyone could see, not just him. That could be a problem. Jealousy pricked his heart. But no. She was his girl, wasn’t she? He remembered the song she’d sung in the interview, about the guy who’d broken her heart, and examined the Covey for a likely suspect.
- Coriolanus felt a stab of annoyance. Had Sejanus forgotten that it was his own reckless behavior that had led to Coriolanus killing Bobbin? That his selfishness had robbed his friend of the luxury of such a statement? Then he suppressed a laugh at the thought of old Strabo Plinth. A munitions giant with a pacifist heir. He could imagine the conversations that had transpired between father and son. What a waste, he thought. What a waste of a dynasty.
- “If I’m helping to kill people in the districts, how is it any better than helping to kill them in the Hunger Games?” asked Sejanus. Coriolanus’s instincts had been right. Sejanus was sliding into another ethical quagmire.
- Perhaps the mockingjays were identical . . . but no, wait, there! A little higher up. A black bird, slightly larger than the jabberjays, suddenly opened its wings to reveal two patches of dazzling white as it lifted its beak in song. Coriolanus felt sure he’d spotted his first mockingjay, and he disliked the thing on sight.
- “Mockingjays,” grumbled a soldier in front of him. “Stinking mutts.” Coriolanus remembered talking to Lucy Gray before the interview. “Well, you know what they say. The show’s not over until the mockingjay sings.” “The mockingjay? Really, I think you’re just making these things up.” “Not that one. A mockingjay’s a bona fide bird.” “And it sings in your show?” “Not my show, sweetheart. Yours. The Capitol’s anyway.” This must be what she’d meant. The Capitol’s show was the hanging. The mockingjay some sort of bona fide bird. Not a jabberjay. Different somehow. A regional thing, he supposed. But that was strange, because the soldier had called them mutts.
- In the ominous silence that followed, Coriolanus could feel the sweat running down his ribs as he waited for the outcome. Would the people attack? Would he be expected to shoot them? Did he remember how the gun worked? He strained his ears for the order. Instead he heard the voice of the dead man ringing out eerily from the gently swaying corpse.
- He’d never seen an execution in real life, only on television, and somehow he couldn’t look away.
- It frightened Coriolanus, this level of want. He’d been broke most of his life, but the Snows had always worked hard to maintain decency. These people had given up, and some part of him blamed them for their plight. He shook his head. “We pour so much money into the districts,” he said. It must be true. People always complained about it in the Capitol. “We pour money into our industries, not into the districts themselves,” said Sejanus. “The people are on their own.”
- A few weeks ago he was a schoolboy, but now he had the uniform, the weapon, the status of a man. And even the lowest-ranking Peacekeeper had power conveyed on him by his association with the Capitol. He stood up straighter at the thought.
- Coriolanus was so relieved to have someone to talk to who knew his world and, more importantly, his true worth in that world. He felt heartened by the fact that Strabo Plinth had allowed Sejanus to insist his graduation be part of the deal for the gym, and took it as at least partial payment toward his having saved Sejanus’s life. Old Plinth had not forgotten him, he felt sure of that, and might be willing to use his wealth and power to help him in the future. And, of course, Ma adored him. Perhaps things were not so dire after all.
- After lights-out, Coriolanus lay beaming at the ceiling. Lucy Gray was not only alive, she was in 12, and he would reunite with her next weekend. His girl. His love. His Lucy Gray. They had survived the dean, the doctor, and the Games somehow. After all the weeks of fear and yearning and uncertainty, he would wrap her in his arms and never let her go. Wasn’t that why he had come to 12?
- “But . . . but I . . . ?” His head swam with posca and adrenaline. “Why? Why do you hate me so much?” he blurted out. “I thought you were my father’s friend!” That sobered the dean. “I thought I was, too. Once. But it turned out I was only someone he liked because he could use them. Even now.” “But he’s dead now! He’s been dead for years!” cried Coriolanus. “He deserves to be, but he seems very much alive in you.” The dean made a shooing motion. “Better hurry. The office closes in twenty minutes. If you run, you can just make it.”
- As Lucy Gray flattened the wrappings and spread all her food out in a pleasing fashion, Coriolanus thought of their picnic at the zoo. Was she restaging it now for his benefit? Something tugged at his heart, and the memory of the kiss hit him. Were there more in his future? For a minute, he drifted into a daydream of Lucy Gray winning, leaving the arena, and coming to live with him in the Snows’ penthouse, which was somehow saved from taxes. He’d attend the University on his Plinth Prize while she headlined at Pluribus’s newly reopened nightclub, because the Capitol would agree to let her stay and, well, he hadn’t worked out all of the details, but the point was, he got to keep her. And he wanted to keep her. Safe and close at hand. Admired and admiring. Devoted. And entirely, unequivocally his. If what she’d said just before she kissed him — “The only boy my heart has a sweet spot for now is you” — was true, then wouldn’t she want that, too?
- Coriolanus wondered if he would soon perish of natural causes. If starving to death was a natural cause. He wasn’t entirely sure. Was it natural if hunger had been used as a weapon?
- “He’s my friend,” he said. “No matter how many times I hear that, it’s difficult to believe. But even from the beginning, Sejanus singled you out. Maybe you take after your mother, huh? She was always gracious to me when I came here on business before the war. Despite my background. The very definition of a lady. Never forgot it.” He gave Coriolanus a hard stare. “Are you like your mother?”
- “Superb,” he said. “Like everything you cook, Mrs. Plinth.” It wasn’t an exaggeration. Ma might be pathetic, but she was something of an artist in the kitchen.
- Would he come downstairs for a moment and have a cup of tea? Or perhaps she should serve tea in here, like the Snows had. No, no, he assured her, the kitchen would be fine. As if anyone served a guest in the kitchen but a Plinth. But he had not come to pass judgment. He had come to be thanked, and if that involved baked goods, all the better.
- He’d done it so they would not bite her as they had Clemensia. So they would not kill her. Because he cared about her. Because he cared about her? Or because he wanted her to win the Hunger Games so that he could secure the Plinth Prize? If it was the latter, he had cheated to win, and that was that.
- Coriolanus wished Lucy Gray could see how many people loved her. He wished she knew how he advocated for her. He’d become more active, pulling Lepidus over during quiet stretches and praising Lucy Gray to the skies. As a result, her sponsor gifts had reached a new high, and he felt confident he could feed her for a week. There was really nothing left to do but watch and wait.
- Contrary to expectations, Iphigenia always seemed on the verge of mal-nutrition, often giving her school lunch to her classmates and even blacking out on occasion. Clemensia had once told Coriolanus it was the only revenge she could take on her father, but refused to give any more details.
- His only regret about ditching the Plinths would be the loss of her cooking.
- “You can blame it on the circumstances, the environment, but you made the choices you made, no one else. It’s a lot to take in all at once, but it’s essential that you make an effort to answer that question. Who are human beings? Because who we are determines the type of governing we need.
- It was true. They’d been close enough to recognize him. But they’d hunted down him and Sejanus — Sejanus, who’d treated the tributes so well, fed them, defended them, given them last rites! — even though they could have used that opportunity to kill one another. “I think I underestimated how much they hate us,” said Coriolanus. “And when you realized that, what was your response?” she asked. He thought back to Bobbin, to the escape, to the tributes’ bloodlust even after he’d cleared
- When Dr. Gaul pulled back the curtain, the twilight of the nocturnal lab gave Coriolanus the strange impression that she stood on the edge of a cliff, that if he were to give her even the smallest shove, she would topple backward into some great chasm, never to be heard from again. If only, he thought. If only. Instead she moved forward and placed two fingers on his wrist, checking his pulse. He flinched at the feel of her cool, papery fingers. “I started out as a medical doctor, you know,” she said. “Obstetrics.” How awful, Coriolanus thought. To have you be the first person in the world a baby sees.
- And what on earth would she possess worth trading for it? Only one thing — herself — and the house of Snow had not yet fallen that far. Or was it falling now as he salted the cabbage? He thought of people putting a price on her. With her long, pointed nose and skinny body, Tigris was no great beauty, but she had a sweetness, a vulnerability that invited abuse. She would find takers, if she had a mind to. The idea made him feel sick and helpless and, consequently, disgusted with himself.
- He remembered, or thought he did, being very small and watching garbage trucks operated by Avoxes — tongueless workers made the best workers, or so his grandmother said — humming down the streets, emptying large bags of discarded food, containers, worn household items.
- A tendency toward obsession was hardwired into his brain and would likely be his undoing if he couldn’t learn to outsmart it.
- As she led Coriolanus into the kitchen, he reminded himself that self-control was an essential skill, and he should be grateful his grandmother provided daily opportunities to practice it.
- The Plinths now enjoyed privileges that the oldest, most powerful families had earned over generations. It was unprecedented that Sejanus, a district-born boy, was a student at the Academy, but his father’s lavish donation had allowed for much of the school’s postwar reconstruction. A Capitol-born citizen would have expected a building to be renamed for them. Sejanus’s father had only requested an education for his son.
- When word had gotten out that he’d come from the districts, Coriolanus’s first impulse had been to join his classmates’ campaign to make the new kid’s life a living hell. On further reflection, he’d ignored him. If the other Capitol children took this to mean that baiting the district brat was beneath him, Sejanus took it as decency. Neither take was quite accurate, but both reinforced the image of Coriolanus as a class act.
- “What is it?” he asked. “Aren’t you happy? District Two, the boy — that’s the pick of the litter.” “You forget. I’m part of that litter,” said Sejanus hoarsely. Coriolanus let that sink in. So ten years in the Capitol and the privileged life it provided had been wasted on Sejanus. He still thought of himself as a district citizen. Sentimental nonsense.
- As the camera zoomed in on her, Coriolanus was not reassured about Lucy Gray Baird’s sanity. Where she’d gotten the makeup he had no idea, for it was only just becoming accessible again in the Capitol, but her eyes were shadowed blue and lined with black, her cheeks rouged, and her lips stained a somewhat greasy red. Here in the Capitol, it would have been bold. In District 12, it felt immoderate.
- At least I’m in better condition than they are, he thought, and he made a fist around the stem of the rose.
- Who were all these people hanging around on a weekday at the zoo? Didn’t they have jobs? Shouldn’t the children be in school? No wonder the country was such a mess.
- Coriolanus could sense the audience beginning to warm up to his tribute, no longer bothering to keep their distance. People were easy to manipulate when it came to their children. So pleased to see them pleased.
- He silently congratulated himself for maintaining grace under pressure, but the scowls of the Peacekeepers suggested they did not share his opinion. “What are you playing at?” a Peacekeeper demanded. “You’re not allowed in there.” “So I thought, until your cohorts unceremoniously dumped me down a chute,” Coriolanus replied. He thought the combination of cohorts and unceremoniously had just the right note of superiority.
- Or like it required any particular skill, tossing kids and weapons in an arena and letting them fight it out. He supposed they had to organize the reapings and film the Games, but he hoped for a more challenging career. “I’ve got a great deal to learn before I can even think of that,” he said modestly.
- “People love children,” said Coriolanus. But even as the words came out of his mouth, he questioned them. During the war, he had been bombed and starved and abused in multiple ways, and not just by the rebels. A cabbage ripped from his hands. A Peacekeeper bruising his jaw when he mistakenly wandered too close to the president’s mansion. He thought of the time he had collapsed and lain in the street with the swan flu and no one, no one would stop to help. Racked with chills, burning with fever, limbs spiked with pain. Even though she was sick herself, Tigris had found him that night and somehow gotten him home.
- To take his idea of coming to the zoo and then dress it up in a way Coriolanus could never compete with, because he could never afford to? Was that whole pack filled with sandwiches? That girl wasn’t even his tribute.
- He found her easy to tell things to, somehow. Was it because he knew that all he recounted would vanish in the arena in a few days?
- Since his initial reaction to Arachne’s death had been somewhat lacking, he was relieved to see that the cameras had only recorded his attempt to save her, the moments when he appeared brave and responsible. You would only notice his shaking if you looked closely for it.
- He was particularly pleased to catch a quick shot of Livia Cardew flailing her way through the crowd at the sound of the gunfire. In rhetoric class, she’d once attributed his inability to decipher the deeper meaning of a poem to the fact that he was too self-absorbed. The irony, coming from Livia, of all people! But actions spoke louder than words. Coriolanus to the rescue, Livia to the nearest exit.
- What had just happened? Was Clemensia dead? He had not begun to come to terms with Arachne’s violent end, and now this. It was like the Hunger Games. Only they weren’t district kids. The Capitol was supposed to protect them. He thought of Sejanus telling Dr. Gaul it was the government’s job to protect everybody, even the people in the districts, but he still wasn’t sure how to square that with the fact that they’d been such recent enemies. But certainly the child of a Snow should be a top priority. He could be dead if Clemensia had written the proposal instead of him. He buried his head in his hands, confused, angry, and most of all afraid. Afraid of Dr. Gaul. Afraid of the Capitol. Afraid of everything. If the people who were supposed to protect you played so fast and loose with your life . . . then how did you survive? Not by trusting them, that was for sure. And if you couldn’t trust them, who could you trust? All bets were off.
- “You matter to me,” he insisted. The Capitol may not value her, but he did. Hadn’t he just poured his heart out to her?
- Somehow his fingers were knotted in Lucy Gray’s scorched skirt, as if it were his lifeline.
- “No, it isn’t! I don’t care what you say. You’ve no right to starve people, to punish them for no reason. No right to take away their life and freedom. Those are things everyone is born with, and they’re not yours for the taking. Winning a war doesn’t give you that right. Having more weapons doesn’t give you that right. Being from the Capitol doesn’t give you that right. Nothing does. Oh, I don’t even know why I came here today.”
- He knew the gifts would pour into the arena for her. That her success, even now, reflected back on him, making it his success. Snow lands on top and all that. He knew he should be elated at this turn of events and jumping up and down inside while presenting a modest, pleased front. But what he really felt was jealous.
- “I have one or two favors I could call in,” he said. “Oh, Coriolanus, wasn’t she stellar? I’m so glad you got her, my boy. The Snows were due a piece of good luck.” Silly old man with his ridiculous powdered wig and his decrepit cat. What did he know about anything? Coriolanus was about to set the record straight, when Satyria appeared and whispered in his ear, “I think that prize is in the bag,” and he let it go.
- She was his girl, she had saved his life, and he had to do everything he could to save hers.
mar 15 2024 ∞
mar 16 2024 +