District One Tournament Day One: Maul vs Vanburen

Okay, so like... I'm not exactly the best in terms of fighting. And what I mean by this is that I mostly only go because I want to stay fit and also all the hottest people my age are careers.

Don't get me wrong, the idea of like wearing a crown and being famous and getting rewarded for being, like, a bad bitch: fun! Because I am a bad bitch, but not for the reasons that most people consider themselves bad bitches. I would argue that I am the baddest bitch, because I use those around me to get stuff done, and that means I get what I want without ever having to get my hands dirty.

This, however, will not be such an occasion. I only agreed to do it because it's, like, important to keep up the good name or whatever. My parents want us to be the next Frays, which I guess means entering stupid tournaments that have nothing to do with the Hunger Games.

Makes, like, a lot of sense, right?

I make my way over to my weapon case- glittery and pink. Custom made, as a matter of fact. Inside, there is a needle-thin blade that spans about the length of my arm, with a beautiful silvery hilt, the ends of which are naturally flush with diamonds. I like the idea of essentially carrying a giant skewer around as a weapon, right? It's very high fashion.

"Okay, Sweetness," I sigh, waving my blade through the air, "Let's get this over with, or whatever."

He seems really intimidating until he calls me my dude, and then I was like: Oh! Oh I see! If I lose to him, I'll never forgive myself.

It really is a tragedy... I hate effort in situations like these, people all watching. Not that I hate people watching. Have you seen this face, like hello! But like... too much room for error. Too much opportunity for like, an unflattering photo to find its way into my school and I will never forgive myself if I end up making a fool of myself. But like. He calls me a dude. So, in the moment, its enough for me to completely sidestep his attack.

I can't help cheering for myself, pulling a foot up and clapping my hands, forgetting that I have a sword in my hand.

"Work!" I say, before readying myself again.

And, by readying myself, I of course mean dropping my sword.

"Okay, period."

The blade catches my forehead and I scream, stepping back and holding my sword arm toward the boy while the other clutches the cut.

"Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me?!"

It should've been, like, an unwritten rule, right? Don't mess with the moneymaker? Like??? The disrespect. The Nerve. The Audacity. I pull my hand away to see that there is only a bit of blood, nothing that a cute hat moment couldn't hide until I was all healed up. But the worst of it was the gasps from the audience. Even they couldn't believe he'd actually tried it?

I gasp, tutting my tongue against my teeth.

"That was a mistake."

Eyes wide, I hold up a hand as if to say um, pause.

"Are we- are we not..."

My eyes meet his, the weird, manic hunger or whatever in them. He seems like one of those guys who ends up eating his allies in the games, getting killed off via a fallen tree or a tidal wave or something. One of those who gets remembered, I suppose, but like... Whatever it takes.

"We're just gonna..." she said to the referee, "Pretend that didn't happen. Got it. Cool."

Not to sound judgey, but I think I'd rather be famous for being, like, I dunno. Being the hottest victor, or... Not eating a single one of the other tributes, at the very least? Not to be too picky... but.

I'm a little offended, not gonna lie. He doesn't want me as a partner?? He should be so lucky. Hmph.

I roll my eyes. "Uh, yeah, me neither because I don't want someone to eat my face off!"

Period.

I keep in mind to remind him there's a first aid station off stage right if he needs to treat that burn. He strikes and I dodge it again, this time trying my absolute best to not cheer. It isn't really in my nature to be, like, a jock, I guess. But it doesn't mean I can't. Just a bit too, like, desperate for me, I guess? I get my attention plenty of other ways.

"Uh-oh!" I say, posing, "Pretty girl is kicking your ass!"

His tone needs, like, serious work. Not gonna lie, he is making me super duper uncomfortable. But, so it is. I have a brother. I have cousins. I know how these rage-fueled, adrenaline junkie types work. It's a pride thing, right? They like, wanna bang on their big ole chests and pee on trees so that everyone thinks they're, like, cool.

"You're not cool and you never will be."

After all, I don't recall ever seeing him at a single mixer. So, yaknow, do the math. Unless you're bad at math, which is totally valid because girl, same.

The smart thing to do in this situation would be to defuse it, talk him down so I can get what I want from him but he is so annoying! Too much. Trying way too hard, dear.

I'll need to end this quick before he goes completely off the rails.