A Knife in the Dark | ✓

Nine

It was Christmas Eve. My family was at Cato's house with Saylee's, Clove's and Jake's families. Cato and I were walking around the snow-covered district, looking at all of the decorations and lights.

Cato was dressed up in a suit and tie, and I was in a plain black dress and my heels that technically were supposed to be for the Reaping. Cato had given me his suit jacket, because my dress sleeves were awfully short, but I forced it back into his arms when I noticed him shivering. He tugged it on without complaint and gave me a toothy grin. He twirled me once, and pulled me into a hug.

"I like their lights." I said as we walked, pointing to a house with rainbow-colored string lights lining the roof.

Cato smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "You're adorable."

"I know."

He shook his head. His smile fell. "This is our last Christmas before I enter the Hunger Games."

"Let's not think about that now." I told him. "This isn't supposed to be bittersweet or sad. We're supposed to be happy, so shut up and be happy."

He obliged, and we spent the night wandering around the district. Around ten at night we reached the Square near the Justice Building, the fountain two blocks up from it lit in red and green. I stepped up onto the fountain's ledge and walked around it, and Cato was holding my hands to help me keep my balance in my heels. I twirled, laughing, and nearly fell, but Cato caught me in his arms with practiced ease. I wrapped my arms around him, and for some reason, it made us laugh harder. He set me on the ground. "Should we head back?"

"Probably." I said. "I can't feel my fingers."

He chuckled and cupped my hands in his, and he raised them to his mouth to blow warm air on them. "Hopefully my house is warm."

"It's probably warmer than out here." I said.

He pressed a swift kiss to my cheek. "Probably. Let's go." He kept a hold on one of my hands, swinging it between us as we walked down the street.

Three dark figures passed between streetlights. I saw it from the corner of my eye, but Cato twirled me again, nearly making me slip on a patch of ice. I caught myself on his shoulder, giggling hysterically. The three figures came into view as they passed under a streetlight, but I wasn't paying enough attention.

"Good evening," said a familiar voice, one I'd only heard on TV. Cato froze, shoulders tensing the slightest bit. To anyone else, it wouldn't have been noticeable. But I knew Cato. He turned and put on a charming, megawatt smile. How easily he slipped on the mask was a little disorienting.

Behind us stood President Snow, flanked by two Gamemakers. Seneca Crane and Plutarch Heavensbee. The three men smiled at us.

"Good evening, President Snow." Cato said. He stepped forward, hand outstretched. "I'm Cato Marcellus, son of--"

"--Titus Marcellus, I remember." He said it with the warm smile of a grandfather. There was something sinister in his gaze as he shook Cato's hand. "You've grown a lot since I last saw you. I remember when you were this tall." He used a hand to show how tall Cato was--he barely came up to the President's waist. He turned to look at me and smiled politely. I hadn't realized it was possible for my walls to be higher, but they shot up again. "And who is this lovely young lady?"

The mask fell forward. "Atala Mikells, sir." I shook his hand, smiling brightly.

Crane looked at Cato. "You've found yourself a lovely one, Cato."

My face flushed. "Oh, no. We're not--I'm not--" Cato bit his lip, stifling a laugh, his cheeks pink.

The two Gamemakers and the President laughed in the odd, secretive way that richer, older men do. "My mistake," Seneca said. He checked his watch. "Sir, we should be leaving."

"Of course," President Snow said. "Have a good evening, and Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." Cato and I mumbled. They turned and went the way they came, and Cato and I walked fast in the opposite direction, our arms linked together.

"He's terrifying." I whispered. "I don't like him."

"He's just standoffish because he's the President." Cato assured me, despite knowing to trust my instincts. They hadn't been wrong for us yet. "He's actually not so bad." He sounded skeptical. I wondered what he was thinking, but I couldn't read him. Not then, anyway. Not with the mask still half over him, obscuring him in a more foglike manner than anything.

We walked in silence on the way back to his house. When we arrived at his house, I started to reach for the handle to his front door, but he stopped me and turned me to face him. "Atala, what do you remember from District Day?"

I thought hard. Most of the night was a murky blur. "I went to your house. We got bored because Clove, Jake, and Saylee were...occupied. Then we snuck some alcohol, got a little tipsy, and went for a walk. Why?"

He swallowed hard. "You forgot something."

"What?"

He moved a little closer. "Close your eyes," he murmured. "I'll show you." I did as he said, my heart racing.

Something warm and soft pressed against my lips. It was gone as fast as it came, and when I opened my eyes, I looked at Cato in confusion. "Did you...? Did we...?"

He nodded. "I was wondering if you remembered."

I felt awful for not remembering my first kiss. "I don't." I said. I took a step closer, running a hand over the smooth material of his suit jacket. "So I guess it just wasn't memorable enough." I tilted my head to the side. "Why don't you try again?"

He grinned almost arrogantly, and I knew at once that it was the right response. "With pleasure."