A Knife in the Dark | ✓

Thirty

In District 2, our mourning color for tributes isn't black. It's tradition to wear gold or bronze for the fallen tributes. For the first few years of the Games, the tradition was to wear red, because most tributes died bloody deaths. However, most people took offense to this, naturally, and so it was changed to gold. Bronze was added in around the time of the Quarter Quell, when the color came to clothing in our District.

It was why I stood in front of a mirror in a dress that was ridiculously gold, brought by Cato's mother from the Capitol specifically for the occasion. It was a beautiful dress--long, so long that I had to wear heels for it to be the perfect length. It was one-shouldered, the strap thin, lined with delicate fabric flowers (or maybe they were butterflies?) made of the same material as the dress. They covered part of my abdomen as well, those little flowers, circling it in three rows. The long skirt was pleated, and it fanned out if I spun. The heels she'd brought me matched perfectly, as did the pins that she put into my hair to hold it back.

Saylee was in a dress she'd brought as well. Saylee's was a color between bronze and gold. It was perfect for her--strapless, the skirt long in the back and short in the front. It was covered in sparkles down to her waist, and the glitter trailed in lines down to the skirt's hem. Her heels had the same white glitter as the dress.

Saylee looked just as unimpressed with the image in the mirror as I did. She made a face and then moved away from it. "When's Jake supposed to get here?" She asked.

"Not sure." I replied. Neither of us said anything else. Conversations between Saylee and I were difficult now that Clove was gone. The loss weighed hard on us.

There was a knock on the door, and then Jake entered. His suit was more brown than bronze, his shirt under it white. It was weird seeing Jake in a color that wasn't black. He shut the door behind him. "You two ready?"

"As ready as we'll ever be." Saylee sighed.

We linked arms, Jake walking between us. It didn't feel right, but it was right enough. It never would feel right. Of course it wouldn't. There should've been two more people with us. We should've taken up the entire sidewalk, the entire road as we walked towards the cemetery. We should not have left enough room for other people to pass. We should've received dirty looks for taking up so much space, as we had in the past.

But we didn't and we never would again. And if we did, it would feel fake, because whoever those two people would be that would take up my other arm and Saylee's other arm, they would be flimsy replacements. And we all would know it.

The sky was the color of slate. We said nothing as we walked, even as the chilly breeze made bumps rise on any exposed skin. No words could be spoken on a day like that.

One of my hands clutched flowers. Jake's were tucked into the pocket of his jacket. Saylee had tucked hers into her hair, a feeble attempt at being her former goofy self. When she did it, Jake and I had been hoping to see a little light return to her eyes, or her lips to turn up a little. Instead, she'd slouched like she was more defeated.

Reaching the wrought iron gates, we all stopped in front of them. We started up at the curving metal letters. My chest filled with dread. Jake didn't turn to look at either of us, though I knew he was watching us out of the corners of his eyes. "You remember what our parents said. We don't have to be here."

Didn't have to be. Just like we didn't have to miss them, didn't have to mourn them, didn't have to wake up each morning expecting things to be normal once more, like it had been a dream. Of course we didn't have to (actually, yes, we did) but we were going to anyway.

"It's our last chance to see them." I said, voice as dead as I felt, and that was that. Our decision had been made. We set our shoulders and entered the cemetery.