23. Dancing Around the Issues

I am dizzy from the lights, but I have managed to stay off of the dance floor. Johanna has abandoned me and is flitting about the room with some guy or other and whenever I do see her, she is just a quick blur of skin and diamonds. Surprisingly a lot of people are standing on the sidelines, which makes the room seem even larger as the hundreds of couples whisk across the dance floor in a blur of colors, lace, jewelry, and silks. All I can think of is my pounding headache, as I nervously back against the wall tables. The food does look amazing, and it smells even better, but I've been so nervous about Haymitch and my stupid dress, that all I've had is a small cup of stew. I realize that the dress doesn't matter anymore. Now, after seeing Peeta smiling, laughing and dancing around the floor with his stupid redhead, in her fire orange gown, I don't know if it ever mattered, and I angrily turn towards the table thinking of covering the dress beneath my cape in cake of all different colors just to spite him. Or spite myself, I guess.

"Care to dance?" I hear behind me, just as I am about to dig into a delicious looking chocolate layered cake. I turn and see Gale standing before me, his same stock uniform, only a light, beige that is almost glowing with gold light. In fact, Gale looks like he's been dipped head to toe in the dim glow of candlelight, as I survey his head and notice the fitted gold cap that completes his uniform fully. He looks wondrous and it makes me think of Cinna.

"I know," Gale says with his old Seam smile and looks down at his outfit "It's a bit overdone. I look like an idiot."

"No, you don't." I say lightly "You're almost glowing."

"Well, that makes sense," he motions to a tag at the back of his outfit. "It's a Cinna design." I knew it! I've never seen anyone else work with colors and light the way that he does. But Gale's statement is confusing.

"Cinna designed your outfit? That doesn't make any sense…" For a moment I think about Cinna, how no one ever heard from him again, how he was one of those presumed dead. Is it too much to imagine that he might've survived?

...And continued designing clothes…?

Gale's apologetic look answers my question before he speaks "No. I'm sorry Katniss. I meant the fabric. Cinna designed a line of fabrics before…well, you know. They used his fabric for our uniforms tonight." He motions across the dance floor, and I see other similarly dressed soldiers, other guards scattered about the room. "Oh."

"I'm sorry Katniss," says Gale and begins to back away.

"No, Gale. It's okay. I was being silly, I know that." I say. Gale says nothing but nods and continues to turn and walk away. "Wait!" I call, before I can stop myself and he does, turning and looking at me curiously. "I thought…didn't you ask me to dance?" I say, and I hold out my hands. He smiles and takes them whisking me onto the floor.

We spin and twirl for a moment, but luckily the music becomes slow because I had no patience for the quick movements of the other song. It is a lazy waltz. One so easy, that you could just lay your head on your partner's shoulder and fall asleep if you wanted to. Instead, Gale holds his hand against my back, and I reach one hand over his shoulder our other hands gripping tightly as we just watch each other's moves slowly, cautiously. I will never again be the Katniss who could've ended up married to her best friend. I know that. Gale will never be more to me than he once was. He is still the bomb-builder. He must know that. But for a few moments, I just look up at my old friend and try to forget that there is any reason to be broken before him. That he is anyone other than a handsome dance partner.

"This is our first dance, you know?" Gale says easily and I match his smile.

"I know."

"Well, how am I doing?" He asks and I try to answer honestly. I think of my only other dance partner's. Some people from the Capitol, District 13 and Plutarch. And Peeta, of course.

Peeta…Maybe honesty isn't best. After all, I'm not melting with his touch or anything, but I do feel okay. My feet are intact and he's not moving too fast. "You're doing fine." I say, and then I mimic him "How am I?" I ask and I see the joke in his eyes before he says quickly "I guess I'll live." I laugh and then he adds his expression changing to one of longing. "And…it helps that you're not terrible to look at." This makes me feel uneasy. It's the first time Gale has said anything like this in a long time, and it makes me remember the time in District 12, when he touched my face. That he has no right.

Gale must realize his mistake because his expression immediately goes light again, and he says smoothly "So…how do you like the new and improved Capitol?" I relax a little, and I try to find my honest answer. "It's okay." I say, remembering the day out with my mother and Glexie. "I saw my mother today." I say.

"How is she?" Gale asks and I can tell he is trying to be cautious, but he doesn't have to be. The pain he may have caused us both will only ever be known to me.

"She's doing well."

Gale raises his eyebrows "Really?" he says and then he glances around a little apprehensively, "Speaking of your mother, isn't she supposed to be here tonight?"

As he is saying this, I recall her mentioning that she'd see me tonight. I feel so self-centered that I hadn't thought of her before now. I glance around as well, but all I see are gowns and tuxes and strangers milling about across the floor. "She is." I say, "But I might not be able to find her tonight, judging by all these people." As if I was even looking for her. As I speak it seems like more and more people are sashaying onto the floor until Gale and I are dancing in a small circle, the floor being swallowed up into the vast array of bodies and colors.

"I wasn't expecting there to be so many people here tonight." I say and Gale nods "I know what you mean, but I'm not surprised. This ball is all people in every district have been talking about for weeks." I shake my head, unable to process it still.

"Still," I say, "There must be at least 5,000 people in here."

"6, 382 to be exact." Gale says, and my eyes widen. "I am a Captain of the Guards, Catnip. The RSVPs were all tolled in by this morning."

I smile lightly, "Counting invitations is in your official capacity then, Captain?"

"Not exactly, but the only way people were able to come here was by picking up an RSVP from their District soldiers, filling in the names and sending them in. That way, we knew how many crafts to send and to which districts, and how much space we'd need before anyone got here."

I crease my brows and say thoughtlessly, "But, I didn't fill in any card." Gale's expression is knowing, and he leans in whispering against my ear.

"Of course, "The Mockingjay" didn't have to RSVP." Gale's smile is well-meaning, but I still feel a little stressed whenever someone calls me that. I nod lightly and look around us. Although the crowd has thinned out, I still can barely see past Gale's shoulders and I find myself searching mindlessly for anyone I know, specifically my mother. I feel Gale moving us backwards through the crowd and spinning us nearer the outer edges of the floor. Good. Breathing is easier away from the mass of people.

As if just remembering something Gale says softly, "I am glad, Katniss, to hear that she's doing…well." It takes me a moment to recall that he is speaking about my mother. Well? Did I say well? "Well, "doing well" isn't exactly the right phrase, but she seems to be becoming herself again. More herself than I've seen her in years. And better. Much, much better." Gale smiles "Good. I know how much that means to you. To both of us." He says and we let the music take us in for a moment, as we both think, I'm sure, of our father's deaths in the coal mines and our lives in the Seam that seem so far away now.

It isn't until I am thinking of this, that I realize Gale really is the only other person who understands about my family. My life in the Seam. Peeta watched me go home, every day, he says. Okay. But Gale knew me before the games. Really knew me. Knew my mom and me and Prim. Prim. Primrose. Gale knew Prim. I think and suddenly, that familiar feeling of fear grips me as I think of Prim, am unable to stop thinking of Prim and it comes to me that I am here, dancing with Gale, who may well have brought about her death. I try to shake the thoughts from my mind but no…

I am back in the first reaping. Prim is screaming for me, and Gale is lifting her up, high over his shoulders, and I am thinking Gale will protect Prim…he'll protect Prim…

You were supposed to protect Prim.

And then I am back with Gale, who is looking at me curiously, silently. I feel the pounding of my heart, steady my breathing. But my body tenses up and I feel my grip loosening on his shoulder and his hand. It is too late, I realize, and I know that our dance is over.

Thankfully, the song is ending and so I am able to be inconspicuous as I stop moving and say gently "Well, this was nice, Gale. To see you. To dance with you." Gale is nodding and I already know that he sees through my veil, knows that my tolerance of him, the bomb-builder, has been worn out. But he only smiles lightly, the pitying smile, and says with a bow. "Good evening, Katniss." Before turning and walking away, leaving me standing on the outskirts of the dance floor and looking woefully after him, wanting to, but unable, unwilling, to call out his name.

From nowhere, someone grips me and spins me into their arms, and I look up to see that I am standing before Haymitch, who gruffly grips my hands and says "Shall we, Kat. Niss?"

The breaking apart of my name annoys me for the last time and thinking of his possible impending doom, I say. "Yes, we can. And you can call me 'Sweetheart.'"

Haymitch begins spinning us in a dizzying manner to the slightly faster song "Now just hold on. I'm a little too old for you don't you think?"

He teases and I roll my eyes, before stamping his foot and saying quickly "Slower, slower. I don't want to vomit."

"Aw, vomiting's not so bad. I vomit maybe 2 or 3 times a day." I stamp his foot again. Hard.

"If you actually want to dance with me, stop it. Be serious." I say and his leisurely look changes to a more serious one.

"Look, sweetheart, I didn't want to dance with you. I just wanted to talk to you. And you looked so pathetic standing there by yourself that I figured I'd do you a favor and help you out." He splays his feet so that I'm unable to stomp him again and I almost slide beneath him before he catches me pulling me back up easily.

"I just might be on my way to an early grave, and this is how you treat me?"

"Haymitch? Please…" I don't want to talk about this. I don't even want to know about it, but he continues in his serious tone.

"Katniss, Listen." And I do, staring up into his clear eyes and his serious face. "If anything happ-"

"Nothing will happen!" I hiss quickly, but he gives me a serious look.

"Shut it." And again, I am his student, and he is my mentor and I am listening intently for his next words as the atmosphere blurs around us "For one thing, be sure that Minanaya and the kids get my house." He says flatly as if it's an afterthought. But I know that he really likes those kids. I suspect he is even beginning to like Minanaya. "Also, don't forget what we talked about. About you getting on with it." I easily recall his warning, about not letting the war and everything rule me, and I nod quickly. I don't want to promise him that I'll "get help" so I try to look eager and appeasing. Besides, I don't have anything to get help for. "Which swings me into my next point," Haymitch says his eyes growing smaller, and his next words come in a disciplinary tone "You be sure and make up with Peeta."

Now I find my voice again "Make up with Peeta? I haven't done anything that I need to make up for!"

"You've done plenty." His tone is dismissive, as if I'm in denial.

"No I have not!" I say and Haymitch twirls me out so that I am open-mouthed and staring in the face of a girl whose skin is painted with pink and purple roses. He spins me back in saying "Katniss, you are definitely, the sole reason for any animosity between the two of you." Animosity?!

"What animosity? Peeta and I are…" I think of the hug and the hand squeezing at the meeting earlier. "We don't have any animosity." I finish, because at least that much I am sure of. "

Then why do you have a problem making up?" Haymitch asks matter-of-factly

"I don't." I say, honestly, trying to pinpoint the reason for my seeming hesitation. I want to be friends again, want to talk to Peeta. To hold his hand, to hold him period. To…to…and now I am thinking of him twirling around with the redhead and the anger surfaces in my voice "Peeta's the one who's spent the past few weeks and all of tonight dancing around with that redhead."

"Oh, yeah." Haymitch says, smiling and nodding across from us, I glance over about 5 yards away and see Peeta, his dumb eyes closed and the redhead, her head down on his shoulder as they sway closely with the tune of the music. Blech. "Who is she?" Haymitch asks quizzically,

"I have no idea. But I guess she's his…his…" I stop short. What exactly do I think she is to him?

Haymitch is dancing us closer and closer to Peeta and the girl until finally we are less than an arm's length away. Before Peeta can open his eyes and see us, Haymitch quickly leans down and whispers in my ear "Well, now's your chance to find out."

And before I can react, in one quick move, Haymitch is snatching the girl blithely from Peeta's arms yelling "Mind if I borrow her for a dance?!" And Haymitch spins me into Peeta, who catches me in surprise.

And now I stand here, feeling small as I am looking directly into the most beautiful blue eyes on earth, breathless.