𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕-𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈s -coriolanus snow

005.

“None of them trust me. And why should they?” asked Sejanus.

A self-important little girl marched up beside them and pointed to a sign on the pillar at the edge of the enclosure. “It says, ‘Please don’t feed the animals.’

They’re not animals, though,” said Sejanus. “They’re kids, like you and me.”

“They’re not like me!” the little girl protested. “They’re district. That’s why they belong in a cage!”

“Once again, like me,” said Sejanus drily. “Coriolanus, do you think you could get your tribute to come over? If she does, the others might. They have to be starving.”

He spotted Jolene at the back of the enclosure, washing her hands and face at a faucet that jutted from the wall at knee height. She dried herself on the ruffled white skirt, arranged her hair, and adjusted the rose behind her ear.

“I can’t treat her like it’s feeding time at the zoo,” Coriolanus told Sejanus. It was not consistent with his treatment of her as a lady to be shoving food to her through the bars. “Not mine. But I could offer her dinner.”

Sejanus nodded immediately. “Take whatever. Ma made extra. Please.”

Coriolanus chose two sandwiches and two plums from the pack and crossed to the edge of the monkey house, where a flat rock provided a likely seat. Never in his life, not even in the worst years, had he left home without a clean handkerchief in his pocket.

The Grandma’am insisted on certain civilities that held chaos at bay.

There were great drawers of them going back generations, plain to lacy to embroidered with flowers.

He spread out the worn, slightly rumpled square of white linen and laid out the food. As he seated himself, Jolene drifted up to the bars unbidden.

“Are those sandwiches for anybody?” she asked.

“Just for you,” he answered.

She tucked her feet under her and accepted a sandwich. After examining its contents, she took a nibble from the corner. “Aren’t you eating?”

He wasn’t sure. The optics so far were good, singling her out again, presenting her as someone of value. But to eat with her? That might cross a line.

“i’d rather you have it,” he said. “Keep up your strength.”

“Why? So I can break Jessup’s neck in the arena? We both know that’s not my forte,” she said. "You have some."

His stomach growled at the smell of the sandwich. A thick slice of meat loaf on white bread. He’d missed his lunch at the Academy today, and breakfast and supper had been meager at home.

A dollop of ketchup oozing out of
Jolene's sandwich tipped the scale. He lifted the second sandwich and sank his teeth in. A little shock of delight ran through his body, and he resisted the impulse to devour the sandwich in a couple of bites.

“Now it’s like a picnic.” Jolene said smiling. They looked back at the other tributes, who had moved in closer but still seemed uncertain. “You all should get one. They’re real good!” she called. “Go on, Jessup!”

Emboldened, her hulking district partner slowly approached Sejanus and took the sandwich from his hand. He waited until a plum followed and then walked off without a word.

Suddenly, the other tributes rushed the fence, hands thrusting through the bars. Sejanus filled them as fast as he could, and within a minute the backpack was almost depleted.