Fifteen minutes later, I creep back up the attic stairs.
It's transformed. There are candles everywhere and all the junk has been pushed away to make space for dancing. August stands there looking extremely pleased with himself as well as amazing in a dark suit. I'm in some kind of strapless midnight blue thing covered in diamonds. It's simple and it reminds me of the sky.
The music is soft and familiar and I can feel my body aching to move with it. August puts his arms around me, and I dance.
It's amazing. Nothing has changed. The steps are familiar and easy, the rhythm a part of my heartbeat, my feet sewn into the tempo. I spin, connected to August by just my fingertips, and twirl back into him. Before I know it I'm laughing. I feel spirited, free, beautiful.
"Daie?" August whispers in my ear after the seventh or eighth song. This one is much slower than all the others.
"Mmm?" I say, blissfully happy as I lean against him.
"I think I may be falling in love with you."
I break apart, stunned. "What?"
"Does that sound crazy?" He asks sheepishly. "I know I've only known you for like four days, but it feels like so much longer. Stranger things have happened, and-"
"You don't need to defend yourself," I say quickly, still moving gently to the music. "I just-you make me feel so free, August. Whenever you touch me I feel like I'm electric. I think about you all the time. You're like nobody I've ever met. If that's love, then dammit, I'm full of it."
"What are you saying?" He breathes in my ear.
"I think I may be in love with you," I say simply, and as soon as I say the words I know they're true.
August takes my breath away. He makes me blissfully happy. He dazzles me, enamours me, challenges me, electrifies me. He makes me happy. He leans down and kisses me and he makes me feel as if I am the most important person in the world, as if no one matters but me.
The music changes. The new song is a classic fiddle tune, the fast, quaint, eager kind that is 12's anthem. All of a sudden we are dancing, feet flying, spinning and laughing. My hair is flying and my head is thrown back. The faster we move, the more I am soaring.
Dancing is so much better with someone you love.
August spins me and twirls me and pulls me back in. Our hands are constantly linked, fingers intertwined, as my feet sink back into the complicated steps I learned as a little girl.
"What are you two doing?"
Asher looks sleepy and bed-headed, but one of his eybrows is arched and he's grinning. His poems briefly come to mind. It's impossible to think that someone so full of life as he is wants to die.
"Dancing," I laugh, reaching out a hand as I spin past. "Come dance with us!"
"You can't be serious."
"Aw, come on, Asher," August coaxes, grinning. He grabs Asher's arm as we pass. He yanks Asher into our dance, grabbing one of his hands. I grab the other one and pull him into the music. His voice protests but his body doesn't. Soon, he is laughing, too.
Outside, the snow falls and the war looms heavy over 12. But inside is warm and full of music and love, laughter and life, and the promise that no matter what happens August loves me.
We dance long into the night, so the early-morning wakeup call is bitter and unwelcome. I groan inwardly as August shakes me awake.
"C'mon, soldier. You're training with us today. My unit wants me back."
"Am I allowed?" I ask, tumbling out of bed. I'm still in the crumpled blue dress from last night. I was too tired to change.
"You took down sixteen Peacekeepers in eleven minutes. If you can keep up, you're allowed."
Well, when you put it like that.
August loans me a holster. I sling my bow and my quiver of arrows over my shoulder and jog out to the Resting Place with him, where the 3rd and 4th divisions are stretching out. These are all the young people, everybody from seventeen to twenty-two. I just make that cut. I stand with Blake and August and two other boys, Red and Aren. I'm not the only girl, but my status as the Mockingjay's daughter and the bow over my shoulder sets me apart.
We run laps, then we pair up and spar under the general's supervision. When he gets to where Arena and I are hashing it out, teeth gritted as meet our match, he stands watching us longer than usual. He's frowning, but he's pretty much always doing that, so I pretend like he's not there and plow Aren into the ground with a head butt and kick to the groin. I play dirty, but hey, whatever gets the job done. Aren swears loudly and I smile prettily.
"Well done, Miss Everdeen," the general says grudgingly, "but next time, don't sack my men."
"Yessir," I mumble, blushing.
We line up at the makeshift, a hundred bulls-eyes lined up against the woods target range. The shots echo over the meadow, loud and angry. I flinch and my bullet goes way off target. Screw this. I yank my bow off my shoulder.
"Daie-" August says warningly.
I ignore him. I'm not in the army, anyway. I'm aware of all the eyes on me even as I let the arrow fly. It finds its mark in the heart of the bulls-eye. I grin, meeting the stares with a challenging gaze. So I'm different. Sue me.
We walk across 12 back to the train station for an obstacle course, stopping in the square to give them more setup time.
A hush falls over the chattering guards. I look up from my arm-wrestling match with Red (he's winning, I have like zero arm strength) to see Gale talking to the general.
And my mother is with him.
Her face is like the most well-known in Panem. I duck my head down, blushing. Of course everyone is having a star struck moment right now.
"That's your mother?" Red whispers incredulously.
I nod, sighing.
"No wonder you've got all the archery skills."
I look up, frowning. "You didn't recognize me before?"
"Why should I?"
I forgot he wasn't from 12. How refreshing to be liked for some other reason than your mother.
"No reason," I say, smiling a little.
Then I remember my mother doesn't want me here. She thinks I'm wandering around 12 with August or Asher. She's okay with me training alone with August-she showed up briefly yesterday while we were sparring-but that's where she draws the line. I was really hoping she would avoid the military.
I'm so screwed. I swear loudly.
"What?" August hisses.
"I'm not supposed to be here."
"Hate to break it to you, but you're dead meat," Aren puts in helpfully.
I look up. Of course the general pointed me out.
My mother looks like she may kill me herself. She walks over to me, her eyebrow raised.
"And what are you doing here?" She says coldly.