The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

by Suzanne Collins

  Before lights-out, the bunkmates laid out Ma’s treats and made a plan for the next two Hob weekends, in case she didn’t send boxes regularly. By virtue of his trading skills, Smiley became their treasurer, carefully setting aside enough for two rounds of white liquor and donations into the Covey bucket after the show. What remained they divided five ways. For his share, Coriolanus took another six popcorn balls, of which he allowed himself only one. The rest he would save for the Covey.

  On Saturday morning, Coriolanus awoke to a hailstorm drumming away at the roof of the barrack. On the way to breakfast, the bunkmates pelted each other with ice balls the size of oranges, but by midmorning the sun came out, stronger than ever. He and Bug were assigned to care for the jabberjays in the afternoon. They cleaned cages, then fed and watered the birds under the direction of two of the Citadel scientists. Although some had been trapped in pairs or threesomes, each bird now resided in its own cage. During the latter part of their shift, they carefully carried the birds, one at a time, to an area of the hangar where a makeshift lab had been set up. The jabberjays were numbered, tagged, and run through basic drills to see if they still responded to the audio commands from the remote controls. All appeared to have retained the ability to record and play the human voice.

  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. Maybe they’d be happier in a controlled environment, where so many threats had been removed. “I’m sure the scientists will take good care of them.”

  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. After the incident with the map, he’d seemed genuinely contrite, so hopefully he’d recognized the danger of acting as a go-between with Lil. But would Billy Taupe or the rebels try to approach him again, since he’d initially expressed a willingness to help them? He was such a sitting duck. The easiest thing would be to take him along to see the Covey once they’d given the others the slip.

  “Want to come backstage with me?” he asked Sejanus quietly when they’d reached the Hob.

  “Am I invited?” asked Sejanus.

  “Of course,” said Coriolanus, although really only he had been. Maybe it was good, though. If Sejanus could keep Maude Ivory entertained, then Coriolanus might get a few moments alone with Lucy Gray. “But we’ll need to shake the rest of the crew.”

  This proved to be simple, since the crowd had grown from the previous week, and the new batch of white liquor was particularly strong. Leaving Smiley, Bug, and Beanpole to haggle, they found the door near the stage and exited onto a narrow, empty backstreet.

  What Lucy Gray had referred to as the shed turned out to be some sort of old garage that could hold about eight cars. The large doors used for vehicle entry were chained shut, but a smaller door in the corner of the building directly across from the stage door was held open with a cinder block. When Coriolanus heard chatter and instruments tuning, he knew they had the right place.

  They entered and found the Covey had commandeered the space, making themselves at home on old tires and odd bits of furniture, their instrument cases and equipment scattered everywhere. Even with a second door in the far back corner propped open, the place felt like an oven. The evening light poured in through a few cracked windows, catching the dust that floated thick in the air.

  When she saw them, Maude Ivory ran over, dressed in her pink frock. “Hey there!”

  “Good evening.” Coriolanus bowed and then presented her with the packet of popcorn balls. “Sweets to the sweet.”

  Maude Ivory pulled back the paper and gave a little hop on one foot before she dipped into a curtsy. “Thank you kindly. I’ll sing you a special song tonight!”

  “I came with no other hope,” said Coriolanus. It was funny how the society talk of the Capitol seemed natural with the Covey.

  “Okay, but I can’t say your name, because you’re a secret,” she giggled.

  Maude Ivory ran over to Lucy Gray, who sat cross-legged on an old desk, tuning her guitar. She smiled down at the child’s excited face but said sternly, “Save them for after.” Maude Ivory skipped over to show her treasure to the rest of the band. Sejanus joined them while Coriolanus waved in passing and headed for Lucy Gray. “You didn’t need to do that. You’re going to spoil her.”

  “Just trying to get some happy in her head,” he said.

  “How about my head?” teased Lucy Gray. Coriolanus leaned over and kissed her. “Okay, that’s a start.” She scooted over and patted the desk beside her.

  Coriolanus sat and checked out the shed. “What’s this place?”

  “Right now it’s our break room. We come here before and after the show and when we go offstage between numbers,” she told him.

  “But who owns it?” He hoped they weren’t trepassing.

  Lucy Gray seemed unconcerned. “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 in their hats. Pretty birds all. He told her about his assignment with the jabberjays, thinking she might be impressed that he’d been singled out to work with them, but it only seemed to make her sad.

  “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? Do you always feel free to speak your mind, Coriolanus Snow?” she asked, giving him a quizzical look.

  Free to speak his mind? Of course, he did. Well, within reason. He didn’t go around shooting his mouth off about every little thing. What did she mean? She meant what he thought about the Capitol. And the Hunger Games. And the districts. The truth was, most of what the Capitol did, he supported, and the rest rarely concerned him. But if it came to it, he’d speak out. Wouldn’t he? Against the Capitol? Like Sejanus had? Even if it meant repercussions? He didn’t know, but he felt on the defensive. “I do. I think you should say what you think.”

  “That’s what my daddy thought, too. And he ended up with more bullet holes than I could count on my fingers,” she said.

  What was she implying? Even if she didn’t say so, he’d bet those bullets came from a Peacekeeper’s gun. Perhaps from someone dressed exactly as Coriolanus was now. “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.”

  “Lucy Gray!” Maude Ivory called across the shed. “It’s time!” The Covey had begun to assemble by the door, instruments in hand.

  “I better go.” Coriolanus slid off the desk. “Have a good show.”

  “Will I see you after?” she asked.

  He brushed off his uniform. “I have to get back for curfew.”

  Lucy Gray rose and swung her guitar strap over her head. “I see. Well, tomorrow we’re
planning a trip to the lake, if you’re free.”

  “The lake?” Were there actually pleasurable destinations in this miserable place?

  “It’s in the woods. A bit of a hike, but the water’s fine for swimming,” she said. “Sure would like you to come along. Bring Sejanus, too. We’d have the whole day.”

  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.”

  “Okay, then.” She planted a kiss on his cheek and joined the rest of the Covey as they left the shed.

  Back in the Hob, he and Sejanus pushed their way through the dim interior, the air heavy with sweat and liquor. They found their bunkmates in the same spot as the week before. Bug had secured crates for them, and Coriolanus and Sejanus settled in on either side of him, each taking a swig from the communal bottle.

  Maude Ivory scampered out to introduce the band. The music began as soon as the Covey had taken the stage.

  Coriolanus leaned against the wall and made up for lost time with the white liquor. He wasn’t going to see Lucy Gray after, so why not get a little drunk? The knot of anger in his chest began to unwind as he stared at her. So attractive, so engaging, so alive. He began to feel bad about losing his temper, and had trouble even remembering what she’d said to set him off. Maybe nothing at all. It’d been a long, stressful week, with the test, and the birds, and Sejanus’s foolishness. He deserved to enjoy himself.

  He knocked back several more swallows and felt friendlier toward the world. Tunes, familiar and new, washed over him. Once he caught himself singing along with the audience and stopped self-consciously before he realized no one cared, or was sober enough to remember much if they did.

  At some point, Barb Azure, Tam Amber, and Clerk Carmine left the stage, apparently to take a break in the shed, leaving Maude Ivory up on her box at the mic with Lucy Gray strumming beside her.

  “I promised a friend I’d sing him something special tonight, so this is it,” Maude Ivory chirped. “Every one of us Covey owes our name to a ballad, and this one belongs to this pretty lady right here!” She held out a hand to Lucy Gray, who curtsied to scattered applause. “It’s a really old one by some man named Wordsworth. We mixed it up a little, so it makes better sense, but you still need to listen close.” She pressed her finger to her lips, and the audience settled down.

  Coriolanus gave his head a shake and tried to focus. If this was Lucy Gray’s song, he wanted to pay careful attention so he could say something nice about it tomorrow.

  Maude Ivory nodded to Lucy Gray for her intro and began to sing in a solemn voice:

  Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:

  And, when I crossed the wild,

  I chanced to see at break of day

  The solitary child.

  No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;

  She dwelt where none abide,

  — The sweetest thing that ever grew

  Upon the mountainside!

  Okay, so there was a little girl who lived on a mountain. And apparently had trouble making friends.

  You yet may spy the fawn at play

  The hare among the green;

  But the sweet face of Lucy Gray

  Will never more be seen.

  And she died. How? He had a feeling he was about to find out.

  “To-night will be a stormy night —

  You to the town must go;

  And take a lantern, Child, to light

  Your mother through the snow.”

  “That, Father! Will I gladly do:

  ’Tis scarcely afternoon —

  The village clock has just struck two,

  And yonder is the moon!”

  At this the Father turned his hook,

  To kindling for the day;

  He plied his work; — and Lucy took

  The lantern on her way.

  As carefree as a mountain doe:

  A fresh, new path she broke

  Her feet dispersed the powdery snow,

  That rose up just like smoke.

  The storm came on before its time:

  She wandered up and down;

  And many a hill did Lucy climb:

  But never reached the town.

  Ah. Lots of nonsense words, but she got lost in the snow. Well, no wonder, if they sent her out into a snowstorm. And then she probably froze to death.

  The wretched parents all that night

  Went shouting far and wide;

  But there was neither sound nor sight

  To serve them as a guide.

  At daybreak on a hill they stood

  That overlooked the scene;

  And thence they saw the bridge of wood,

  That spanned a deep ravine.

  They wept — and, turning homeward, cried,

  “In heaven we all shall meet”;

  — When in the snow the mother spied

  The print of Lucy’s feet.

  Oh, good. They found her footprints. Happy ending. It was one of those silly things, like that song Lucy Gray sung about a man they thought had frozen to death. They tried to cremate him in an oven, but he only thawed out and was fine. Sam Somebody.

  Then downwards from the steep hill’s edge

  They tracked the footmarks small;

  And through the broken hawthorn hedge,

  And by the long stone-wall;

  And then an open field they crossed:

  The marks were still the same;

  They tracked them on, not ever lost;

  And to the bridge they came.

  They followed from the snowy bank

  Those footmarks, one by one,

  Into the middle of the plank;

  And further there were none!

  Wait? What? She vanished into thin air?

  — Yet some maintain that to this day

  She is a living child;

  That you may see sweet Lucy Gray

  Upon the lonesome wild.

  O’er rough and smooth she trips along,

  And never looks behind;

  And sings a solitary song

  That whistles in the wind.

  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. But then, why didn’t she grow up? He couldn’t make sense of it, and the white liquor wasn’t helping. It reminded him of the time he hadn’t understood the poem in rhetoric class and Livia Cardew had humiliated him in front of everyone. What a dreadful song. Maybe no one would mention it. . . . No, they would. Maude Ivory would expect a response. So he’d say it was brilliant and leave it at that. What if she wanted to talk about it?

  Coriolanus decided to put it to Sejanus, who’d always been good at rhetoric, just to see if he had any thoughts.

  But when he leaned across Bug, he found Sejanus’s crate was empty.

  Coriolanus scanned the area, trying to hide his growing anxiety. Where was Sejanus? Adrenaline fought with the white liquor for control of his brain. He’d been so steeped in music and alcohol that he really didn’t know when Sejanus had disappeared. What if he hadn’t had a change of heart about Lil? Was he out there in the crowd, conspiring with the rebels at this very moment?

  He waited for the audience to finish applauding Maude Ivory and Lucy Gray before he rose to his feet. Just as he began to make his way to the door, he saw Sejanus return
ing in the hazy light.

  “Where’ve you been?” Coriolanus asked.

  “Outside. That white liquor runs right through me.” Sejanus sat on his crate and turned his attention to the stage.

  Coriolanus resumed his seat as well, his eyes on the entertainment, his thoughts anywhere but. White liquor didn’t run through anyone. It was too strong, the amount consumed too small. Another lie. What did that mean? That he couldn’t let Sejanus out of his sight for one second now? Throughout the rest of the show, he kept shooting sideways glances at him to make sure he didn’t sneak off again. He stayed close after Maude Ivory collected money in her beribboned basket, but Sejanus seemed focused on helping Bug steer a drunken Beanpole back to the base. No opportunity presented itself for further discussion. If, in fact, Sejanus had slipped away to plot with the rebels, Coriolanus’s directly confronting him after the Billy Taupe incident had obviously failed. A new strategy was clearly called for.

  Sunday dawned too brightly for Coriolanus’s throbbing head. He threw up the white liquor and stood in the shower until his eyes focused properly again. The greasy eggs at the mess hall were unthinkable, so he nibbled on his toast while Sejanus finished both of their helpings, only confirming Coriolanus’s suspicions that he’d consumed next to no alcohol the night before, certainly not enough to have it run through him. Their three bunkmates had not even managed to get up for breakfast. Until he thought of a better approach, he’d have to watch him like a hawk, especially when they left the base. Today, anyway, he’d need a companion to go to the lake.

  Although Coriolanus’s own enthusiasm had waned, Sejanus cheerfully accepted the invitation. “Sure, it sounds like a holiday. Let’s take some ice!” While Sejanus talked Cookie out of another plastic bag, Coriolanus went to the clinic for an aspirin. They met up at the guardhouse and then set out.