Chapter 16.

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CAN YOU BE MY NIGHTINGALE?...

The moment Ma said it, Coriolanus knew she was right

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The moment Ma said it, Coriolanus knew she was right. Perhaps it was a mother's intuition, but with her prompting he recognized Sejanus almost instantly. Something about the posture, the slight stoop, the line of the forehead. The white Academy uniform shirt glowed softly in the dark, and he could almost make out the bright yellow mentor badge, still hanging by the lanyard on his chest.

How Sejanus had gotten into the arena, he had no idea. A Capitol boy, a mentor no less, might not have drawn too much attention at the entrance, where you could buy fried dough and pink lemonade, where you could join the crowd watching the Games on the screen. Had he merely blended in, or even used his minor celebrity status to set suspicions at bay? My tribute's finished, so I might as well enjoy myself! Posed for pictures? Chatted up the Peacekeepers and slipped in somehow while their backs were turned? Who would think he'd want to enter the arena, and why on earth had he?

On-screen, a shadowy Sejanus knelt, set down a parcel, and rolled Marcus onto his back. He did his best to straighten the legs, to fold the arms on the chest, but the limbs had grown stiff and defied arrangement. Coriolanus couldn't tell what was happening next, something with the parcel, but then Sejanus rose to his feet and held his hand over the body.

That's what he did at the zoo, thought Coriolanus. He remembered when, after Arachne's death, he'd caught a glimpse of Sejanus sprinkling something over the dead tribure's body.

"That's your son in there? What's he doing?" asked the Grandma'am, asked.

"He's puting bread crumbs on the body" said Ma. "So Marcus has food on his journey."

"His journey? To where?" asked the Grandma am. "He's dead!"

"Back to wherever he came from," said Ma. "It's what we do, back home. When someone passes."

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.

"Is the whole city awake?" wondered the Grandma'am.

"Excuse me." Coriolanus crossed to the phone in the foyer. "Hello?" he said into the receiver, hoping it was a wrong number.

"Mr. Snow, it's Dr. Gaul." Coriolanus felt his insides contract. "Are you near a screen?"

"Just got home, actually," he answered, trying to buy time. "Oh, yes, there it is. My family's watching."

"What's going on with your friend?" she asked.

Coriolanus turned his head away from the gathering and lowered his voice. "He's not really...that?"

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