Not knowing how long Sejanus might be in lockup, Coriolanus scribbled a short note to Ma, generally informing her that Sejanus was in trouble and suggesting Strabo might want to make a few calls.
Perhaps only a mother would make the connection in that gloom, but with her prompting he recognized Sejanus. Something about the posture, the slight stoop, the line of the forehead.
For the next two days, everything seemed to tumble forward, as he tried to reassure himself that this was in Sejanus’s best interest, as the bunkmates’ pleas to see their friend were denied, as the detention stretched on.
The moment the whole treasonous rebel plot would be revealed. Once Coriolanus heard it, he’d be as good as a rebel himself. A traitor to the Capitol. He should panic, or run, or at least try to shut Sejanus up. But he did none of these things.
Guilt-ridden and slick with sweat, Coriolanus realized he had not thought through the ramifications of sending the jabberjay. Sejanus could be in real trouble.
(…) 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.
“(…) I don’t know if you were kidding about suicide, but it was no joke to me. I had the whole thing worked out . . . .”
“No. No, Sejanus,” said Coriolanus. “Let’s not give them the satisfaction.”