Cats. Of all the things, my father chose cats. The costume wasn't even that good either. The black leather suit was plain enough and the pointed ears were bearable, but the fluffy tail was completely over the top. I quickly discarded of the furry mess and changed. The costume was for the annual masquerade ball, which I was old enough to attend for the first time. I wish my father had grounded me for escaping last night and forbidden me from going, because I was dreading it, but he just yelled at me for a bit instead. I slipped the mask onto my face and slowly made my way downstairs.

"Good morning, Adrien." My father's assistant Nathalie said and placed a piece of paper into my hand. "Your schedule."

I skimmed through it quickly. It left most of the day free, except for the dance. I glanced over towards the table, where a full breakfast was set and waiting. Then I headed out the door and walked into the woods to get to town. My bodyguard, who I called Gorilla, trailed behind me, but by several feet. My stomach grumbled, but I had a destination set. My encounter with Marinette gave me the urge to go to the bakery, for old times' sake. I could imagine my mom was beside me, prompting me to decide.

The woods were calm and green and smelt like fresh pines. The heavy footsteps of gorilla broke several twigs behind me, making me jump with every step. I was relieved when I reached the paved road of a small village, just outside of town, and his clomps quietened. As I walked through it, I saw several other people in masks. That was normal though. The custom was to dress up as some kind of animal for the entire day, and not reveal your identity to anyone. It might seem easy to work out who was behind the mask, but apparently, it wasn't. My father met my mother at the masquerade. She was a peacock, Nathalie had told me, and she shone like the sun. Father spent years attempting to track her down, and he eventually found her. I reached the edge of the village and sighed as the noisy cracks behind me resumed.

I smiled as I tried to picture my mom in a royal blue dress and feathered cape. A peacock. It was perfect for her. She was graceful like a bird on the dance floor, and anywhere else for that matter. I was so caught up in my daydreams that I didn't notice when I crashed into an eight-year-old girl.

She fell to the floor with a startled expression on her face, which was quickly replaced by a grumpy one.

"Watch where you're going." she snapped and got to her feet.

"Are you okay?" I asked, deciding to ignore the rudeness.

"I'm fine." She tapped her foot impatiently. "Have you seen a girl with brown hair and about this high?" She stood up on her tip-toes and stuck her hand in the air to gesture the person's height. "She's my sister."

"No" I said. "Do you need a hand?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

I was aware of The Gorilla's heavy breathing behind me and I turned towards him. "I'm going to help find the girl. You can go home, if you want."

He scowled, but I scowled back and he started to trudge home.

"What's your sister's name?" I asked the kid.

"Alya." She started to call the name several times. "Alya! Alya!"

The name sounded familiar. As I followed the girl, I tried to remember. The it struck me. Marinette had mentioned Alya, her best friend, several times. By several times, I mean at least twice a minute. I got a little excited, but not too much. I didn't know Marinette, but the excitement spread from getting to meet more people, even if the person was the best friend of a girl who you met the night before.

We searched for about half an hour before we came to a wall of ivy. The girl squealed excitedly.

"This has got to be the place! She and Mari took me here once or twice when I was younger."

I nodded, pretending I didn't know who 'Mari' was. The girl put her hand on the ivy and pushed through. I followed her and gasped. The view was breath taking. The river lapped at the edge of the bank, where two girls were sitting.

"Alya!" the eight-year-old girl said in an exasperated tone. "Mama says that you need to come back now." Alya turned to reveal puffy eyes.

"Right." She muttered and placed her hand on the other girls, I realized it was Marinette's, shoulder to steady herself as she stood up. Her brown eyes met mine.

"Who are you?" she said coolly.

I felt another sweat break out. I had been damp the entire day, but now even more so. I mean, black leather in a blazing sun was not a good combination.

"I'm, um, Chat Noir." I made up. "Chat Noir, that's me."

"Right." She took a protective stance over towards her sister.

"No Alya, he helped me find you."

Marinette had finally turned around, probably to witness the drama happening behind her. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffier than Alya's, and she had dark circles around them as well. Her face was pale and tear streaked, her shoulders slumped forward in a way that my appearance focused father would have disapproved of. In other words, she was a complete mess.

"Oh." Alya said. "Thanks." She parted the ivy for her sister to walk through. "Mari, you'll come to the dance, right?"

Marinette looked up.

"I can't really dance. I'm just going to miss it."

Alya started to protest, but Marinette waved her away.

"Bye, Alya."

"Bye, Marinette."

Alya left, but I lingered.

"Are you ok?" I asked the mess in front of me.

She frowned.

"Fine." I could tell she wanted to me to go away, but she was too polite. However, I caught the drift. She was helped by Adrien, not Chat Noir. I no longer wanted to go into town and my schedule probably didn't allow me too. Most people would consider the trip wasted, but it was nice to do something for someone who wasn't me. It was also interesting to see people who were normal. Was Marinette normal? I remembered that she was saying how crap her destiny was, and now she was crying her eyes out.

I was about to leave through the wall of ivy, but as my fingers grazed the leaves, I turned around.

"You know, you should go to the dance."

She looked at me again.

"I can't dance. What's the point of going?"

She gestured to her injured leg. I noticed that she kept the stick I gave her yesterday.

"Well, you could always stand at the side, or sit, whatever."

She set her gaze back at the river.

"Maybe."

I finally eft.

MLBMLBMLBMLB

The dance was hot, humid and boring.

Hundreds of people crowded into the ballroom. From nobles to street kids, everyone was welcome, as long as they were of age and behaved. The kwami's were a symbol of identity, so they soared towards the roof and mingled with one another. I swear I kept seeing a black blur coming back and forth from the cheese stand every five seconds, and the camembert was mysteriously disappearing. I shook my head, glad that no one knew it was my kwami. The good thing about the 'secret identity' was that I could escape my reputation and my destiny. I talked to people, and they chatted back like I was an equal, but they were bland, boring people who wanted to gossip and criticize the choice of musicians or how the noble lady was dressed. I tried to slip unnoticed into the corner, hoping that my black suit would give the impression of shadows. I failed.

I scanned the crowd for anyone who looked friendly. I didn't see a young girl with a walking stick, so I assumed Marinette didn't decide to go. However, I did see a girl my age in a fox get up who was slumped over in a chair. Alya, I guessed. I was helping myself to a cookie when the door opened again. I glanced over my shoulder and froze. No one else took any notice of the girl in the ladybug pattered dress, but I did.