hex ; district four ; cb

Trouble -- oh how so often that word was applied to me. I guess it's accurate, but it's better than being violent or bored or any other adjective that people happen to be called. Fast humor rolls off of my tongue, sharp and a smirk drifting to the edge of my smile. It's a shame that not everyone gets the quick lash of sarcasm; they get so offended it's almost funny and then you see the confusion on their face and -- you get the idea. 

My parents, they.... they aren't exactly a fan of the jokes. I don't blame them. They think training us for the games would make such a difference. I don't think mentioning that almost all of the previous victors haven't come from districts that are known for training would help the situation. Who knows; their faces would be a picture. Would almost be worth a thousand punishments to catch a glimpse of anger. But knowing father, well, it wouldn't just be me who would be punished. Oh no. No cake for a month or something for all of us.

Dull. I do wish to see him flounder like all the fish that he says we represent. What a sight that would be. I pick up the small spear beside me -- my weapon of choice. I guess it's like me. Sticking it's goddamn head where it doesn't belong.

Unsurprisingly, my head echo's the way it slowly rises in crescendo. Like the waves. Like the way father says it. 

"Fight!"