A Knife in the Dark | ✓

Eighteen

We didn't see Clove and Cato for another day, and we didn't see them until the Tribute Parade was broadcasted. Already, Saylee, Jake, and I were going insane--we'd reviewed every resource available, every Reaping, every interview with every Gamemaker and the President in reference to this year's Games. We'd spoken to every Victor, determined to at the very least map out something to try and get an idea of what our friends were up against. Jake hadn't slept in two days, and the image of Saylee's hollow eyes were burned into my mind.

We were seated on Saylee's couch together, crowded under one blanket, eyes glued to the screen. Cato's brothers were on duty, as they were most of the time, though Lucius generally helped Jake at the Training Center and Lars would try working some emotion out of Saylee, and Tiberius would hang around me, cracking bad jokes in an attempt to get something other than a sob or a mumble out of me. Sometimes it worked. But they were rarely off anymore, taking extra hours so that they didn't have to go home very much. They didn't like their younger brother being gone, either.

Bell and Leah had taken to hiding out, away from us, with each other. I didn't blame them. Leah seemed to not want to go near Jake, and when I asked why she always shied away from him, she said that he was too great of a reminder of Clove. Already, the younger Urban sister was fearing for the worst.

After District 1's tributes came out in ridiculous pink outfits that left Saylee howling with laughter, our district's tributes came out. Cato and Clove were dressed in gold, like ancient gladiators. They had ridiculous headpieces with wings on either side of their heads, but the costumes did their job--they effectively displayed Cato and Clove as intimidating, and they accentuated their obvious strength. Clove, though she was small, was stronger than people generally thought. Unlike Cato, it wasn't obvious.

A few more tributes came out, though we were quickly bored. "Can we just shut the TV off now?" Saylee yawned and stretched. "I kind of want to go to sleep or something."

"Same," Jake said, and he yawned too.

"Just another minute," I shifted to get a little more comfortable, sinking back farther into the couch. "Maybe something interesting'll happen." I seriously doubted it, and my eyes fluttered shut.

Next thing I knew, I was being nudged awake. "Atala," Jake said, "Atala, look."

Saylee was laughing, sitting straight up, wide awake. "The District Twelve tributes are on fire! Holy shitballs, are you guys seeing this?"

Whatever commentary Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith were making couldn't be heard over our exclamations of disbelief. The District 12 tributes--one of which had volunteered for her younger sister--were actually on fire.

Okay, that should be elaborated; they weren't on fire. This was no costume malfunction. It was synthetic flames that trailed behind them like capes, reflecting off of their shining black costumes. When they made it to the end and the lights dimmed for the President's speech, their fire dimmed as well, though it didn't completely extinguish.

No matter how impressed we were by the District 12 tributes, our eyes hungrily searched the screen before us for Cato and Clove.

It didn't last long enough, and when the camera turned to the President, Jake clicked off the television. It winked out, and we were plunged into darkness.

"Ah, darkness," Saylee mused loudly, "my dear, sweet friend. I was wondering where you had gone."

Jake and I exchanged a look of complete bewilderment, only able to see the other thanks to the light from a streetlight slipping in through the cracks in the shutters that covered the windows behind us. We both began to laugh. We hadn't laughed like that since Cato and Clove left, days ago at that point. I wasn't the only one taken off guard by the little ray of metaphorical sunshine that lit up that dark room for a mere moment at best--in the eyes of my friends, I could see that they had been just as surprised.