The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (The Hunger Games, #0)

by Suzanne Collins

“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.” “Not that one. A mockingjay’s a bona fide bird,” she assured him. “And it sings in your show?” he asked. “Not my show, sweetheart. Yours. The Capitol’s anyway,” said

Coriolanus had heard her sing dozens of songs over the past few days, full of everything from the beauty of springtime to the heart-wrenching despair of losing her mama. Lullabies and toe tappers, laments and ditties.

And I am the one who you let see you weeping. I know the soul that you struggle to save. Too bad I’m the bet that you lost in the reaping. Now what will you do when I go to my grave?

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.

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?

The song, it was payback of a kind. Most people won’t know that, but the Covey will get the message, loud and clear. And they’re all I really care about.”

Even if Lucy Gray was confused on the issue, in the eyes of the Capitol, she belonged to him.

y i k e s

Silly old man with his ridiculous powdered wig and his decrepit cat. What did he know about anything?

dude you were literally just saying how much he’d helped you and how you didn’t have to pretend around him. or are you feeling threatened suddenly by the fact that he’s knows yall are poor???

You could put a turnip in a ball gown and it would still beg to be mashed.

“Then be kind, Coryo,” she snapped. “And try not to look down on people who had to choose between death and disgrace.”

“She’s a sad, trashy little thing, your girl, but oddly appealing in her way. Perhaps it’s her voice. It gets inside a person somehow.”

If he could erase the rationing and the bombings, the hunger and the fear, and replace it with the rosy lives promised to them at birth, would he even recognize his friends?

“Tell her,” said Tigris, “that I am rooting for her.” “Tell her,” the Grandma’am added, “that we are all so sorry she has to die.”

It was a matter of honor. She was his girl, she had saved his life, and he had to do everything he could to save hers.

“Did there used to be powder here?” “There did, but —” began Coriolanus. He paused. If he said it, there was no going back. On the other hand, if he didn’t, he might be losing her for good. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you might want to use your own.”

“I think she’s fallen in love with me.” “Of course she has. What do you feel for her?” she asked. “I don’t know,”

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. Part of a shapeless mass of unfortunate, barbaric creatures that hovered on the periphery of his consciousness. Surely, if there had ever been an exception to the rule, it was Lucy Gray Baird. A person who defied easy definition. A rare bird, just like him.

“Well, as they say, it’s not over until the mockingjay sings.” He felt satisfaction at the puzzlement on their faces.

“But surely, you’re not comparing our children to theirs?” asked Lucky. “One look tells you ours are a superior breed.” “One look tells you ours have had more food, nicer clothing, and better dental care,” said Dean Highbottom. “Assuming anything more, a physical, mental, or especially a moral superiority, would be a mistake. That sort of hubris almost finished us off in the war.”

It gave him time to reflect on what Dean Highbottom had said about the people in the districts. That they were essentially the equals of those in the Capitol, only worse off materially. It was a somewhat radical idea for the dean to be putting out there.

I didn’t mean to snap like that. It’s not your fault. I should’ve brought it up before.” Her voice dropped to a hush. “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?”

“My cousin said to remember this isn’t of our making. That we’re still children, too.” “That doesn’t help, somehow. Being used like this,” said Lysistrata sadly. “Especially when three of us are dead.” Used? Coriolanus had not thought of being a mentor as anything but an honor. A way to serve the Capitol and perhaps gain a little glory. But she had a point. If the cause wasn’t honorable, how could it be an honor to participate in it? He felt confused, then manipulated, then undefended. As if he were more a tribute than a mentor.

would have been horrifying to see any creature displayed this way — a dog, a monkey, a rat, even — but a boy? And a boy whose only real crime had been to run for his life?

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 can’t stand his father, no siblings, no other friends. That leaves you and his mother. We’re trying to locate her now.” Coriolanus felt his heart sink. “She’s right here,” he admitted. So much for his “acquaintances” defense.

If the Peacekeepers had been concerned about rebel activity, they would have been focused on someone targeting the crowd. Still, it seemed a little too relaxed. What if the tributes tried to make a break for it again?

A boy with a club who beats another boy to death. That’s mankind in its natural state.”

As the ten mentors gathered for a delicious lamb stew with dried plums, Coriolanus missed Lysistrata. She had been his only real ally, just as Jessup had been Lucy Gray’s.

What awaited him farther down that slope if he was unable to stop his descent? What else might he be capable of? Well, that was it. It stopped now. If he didn’t have honor, he had nothing. No more deception. No more shady strategies. No more rationalization. From now on he’d live honestly, and if he ended up as a beggar, at least he would be a decent one.

Her shrine to District 2. It was pitiful, the way she clung to that backward mountain region. Poor little displaced person without a hope of ever fitting in, spending her days making custards for Avoxes who would never taste them, and pining for the past. He watched her slide the pies into the oven and took a bite of his slice. His taste buds tingled in pleasure.

Was that what Dr. Gaul had meant by “social contract”? The agreement not to rob, abuse, or kill one another? It had to be. And the law required enforcement, and that was where control came in. Without the control to enforce the contract, chaos reigned. The power that controlled needed to be greater than the people — otherwise, they would challenge it. The only entity capable of this was the Capitol.

Coriolanus didn’t know what it would take to prove to people she was not district if she hadn’t convinced them by now. “I feel a great injustice may have occurred by her being not just in the reaping, but in District Twelve at all. People will need to judge for themselves. If you agree with me, or even suspect I might be right, you know what to do.”

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?

He wondered if that wasn’t the problem. The impossibility of being a Snow in this postwar world. What it had driven him to do.

“You were set up to fail,” said Tigris. “The Hunger Games are an unnatural, vicious punishment. How could a good person like you be expected to go along with them?” “You mustn’t say that to anyone but me. It isn’t safe,” Coriolanus warned her. “I know,” she said. “And that’s wrong, too.”

he watched Capitol News, dreading a report on his predicament, but he saw only standard Saturday fare. Weather. Traffic rerouted for reconstruction. A recipe for summer vegetable salad. It was as if the Hunger Games had never happened. I’m being erased, he thought. And to erase me, they must erase the Games.

He saw himself in twenty years’ time, grown stout and stupid, the breeding beaten out of him, his mind atrophied to the point where nothing but base, animal thoughts of hunger and sleep ever crossed it. Lucy Gray, having languished in Dr. Gaul’s lab, would be long dead, and his heart dead with her.

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.”

Coriolanus supposed this was what people meant by a forest, or even a wilderness. Thick trees, vines, and underbrush grew every which way. The disorder alone felt disturbing. And who knew what sort of creatures inhabited it? The medley of buzzing, humming, and rustling set him on edge. What a racket the birds here made!

Coriolanus felt sure he’d spotted his first mockingjay, and he disliked the thing on sight.

“Stop being so self-indulgent, in other words,” said Sejanus. “Well, so dramatic anyway. That’s how you ended up in the arena, remember?” asked Coriolanus. Sejanus reacted as if Coriolanus had slapped him. After a moment, though, he nodded in recognition. “That’s how I almost got us both killed. You’re right, Coryo. Thanks. I’m going to think over what you said.”

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.

It was just another reason to hate Billy Taupe, although seeing the Covey’s rejection of him was deeply satisfying. It confirmed that Lucy Gray belonged to him.

“Oh, no, he’s a Clade. Him and Clerk Carmine are brothers. The rest of us are all Baird cousins. The girls, I mean. And Tam Amber’s a lost soul,” said Maude Ivory matter-of-factly.

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. . . .

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.

“No idea. We’ll just perch here until they shoo us off.” Birds. Always birds with her, when it came to the Covey. Singing, perching, feathers

And I’m sorry about your father — I’m sorry about my father — but I don’t run Panem.”

Do you think people really see Lucy Gray, or they’re just dreaming her?” she said. “Because I think they really see her. Only now, she flies like a bird.”

“I think she flies around and tries not to meet people, because they’d kill her because she’s different.”