Ruin My Life [Nylon/Arthur]

I think the best part about training is being able to show off. It’s different when everyone in the room is a fellow career; but here? Here, most of the kids are coal miners that can’t walk in heels and volunteers from districts that are about to find out what a mistake they’ve made.

I’ve just finished warming up, getting ready to run through one of the combat techniques that’s been ingrained in me. I don’t need to rely on weapons in the arena if I can get my hands around someone’s neck and twist. Broken necks are so much less messy and I really hope I can manage to get at least one into my highlight reel.

If I choke someone with a whip—look, I’m aiming to be bigger than Ridley Le Roux here. Move over Grim Reaper, Nylon’s got a stranglehold on the Capitol. Can you feel the pulse? Weakening as I coil a thread around it.

And I hear a click.

It’s a familiar sound, a camera. Someone in here is taking pictures. A quick scan of the room reveals the weirdo from three—the surprisingly builtweirdo from three, is the culprit, and—I think he’s taking a picture of moi? I mean, he’s definitely facing my direction.

Ugh, was he watching me stretch? I mean, I can’t blame him, but have some class.

So I make the dumbest face I can think of and then arch an eyebrow as I saunter over to him.

“You can pay for a signed photo like everyone else.” I say with a hint of disapproval, curling my lip and making a tsking noise. I yank the camera out of his hands and turn it over to look at it while keeping one hand on my hip. And then I glance around at the station he’s at.

Something survival related. Ropes. Maybe he was trying to build a trap? It’s terrible, looks like a noose more than anything else. I could build a better snare in my sleep. My gaze leaves the rope and returns to the boy. I don’t know much about him other than his name and district.

Three is a garbo place for being an upper district. Like the redheaded stepchild the Capitol keeps in the attic of the manor and beats if they make too much noise. I mean the last time they had a victor was the year I was born, so that should tell you something.

“Whatcha doing over here anyway? Trying to catch something, Artie?” He’s caught my eye at least, because he’s standing out and not being boring—usually a good sign.

I wonder if he has a type?

Aw shucks, I think the baby is sad I took his candy.

I promise I’m sweeter. Well, at least my kisses are. I don’t apply vanilla flavored lip gloss every day for nothing; I intend to use it. I can see that he’s made fists and I glance at them curiously. If it’s a fight he wants, I can oblige. I’ll start by breaking his jaw with this camera of his. Arthur. Such an old name. Arthurs wear monocles and have grey mustaches that curl. He’s got too much of a rockin’ bod and pouty lips to be named Arthur.

I’m thinking Brad. Mike maybe. He mentions that he’s poor and like—that’s like the third guy that’s done this. ‘you’re more beautiful than any of the trashbags in eleven’ ‘I get my ass beat by girls on the regular’

Why are boys so obsessed with stating the obvious?

He’s talking about how bad he is at making knots and—

Huh. Alright, note to self, he has a deathwish. He reached for the camera and I let him take it. Because, wow, the noose is way more interesting than the camera.

I inspect it curiously, and I admit, I’m not faking that.

Of course, I’m not admitting that to him. I shrug.

“I’m pretty sure the same force field that’s around the arena is around the building. Even if you did jump they have nets to catch people.”

It’d be such a waste though. Why wouldn’t want to at least die on camera if he wants to be remembered? I can think of plenty of tributes from district three. Like—

Like uhm—

Wow, these garbage knots are so bad. I push past him and pick one up, turning it over in my hands. I’ve always been fascinated by this sort of thing. For reasons.

“These are too big. You’re supposed to bend the wire around one side of your finger to make the loop.”

He didn’t roll up the backend either.

So I fix it. Cause I’m nice like that.

Brains, beauty and brawn, gawd I never know which one to show off first. Was he mad? Sure, but I can diffuse situations every now and then. I keep people on their toes, or maybe it just means I’m a little unstable.

I like the first one better.

“There. Now you can catch a rabbit by the neck or tie someone’s wrists together.”

I give him a mischievous wink.

“Me, I prefer handcuffs…”

I tug on the end of the noose around his neck with a playful smile.

“Don’t be such a grump, there’s plenty of time to have fun before everyone dies.”

What’s fun?

Drinks with tiny umbrellas. Buying lip gloss. Boys that tell me I’m pretty. Fantasizing about which kills will make my highlight reel.

The usual.

I yank on the noose again and take a step backwards, gently pulling him towards the rope station.

I don’t check to see if he follows.

They always do.

Now, this one, this one I think requires something different. He’s not like Abel. He’s got anger. He’s cute. Not hiding his interest. Well, Abel didn’t either, but something tells me Arthur here has more experience. You know, I’m glad I didn’t break his camera yet. That’s reserved for when I need to make a point. For now, I can just think about fun, and I mean, I saw his abs the other day.

That’s fun too.

So I clear some of the mess away and hop up on the table to face him, crossing my legs and leaning back with my hands keeping me steady.

“Nobody more fun than you huh? Sounds like a challenge.” I grab some of the rope and make a crude lasso, whirling it over head and dropping it over his shoulders before pulling him in. “I dunno if I should let you keep those photos of me for free though.” I pull the lasso tight and put a leg out, planting my foot in the middle of his chest to that the momentum doesn’t take me off the other side of the table.

“What’s my idea of fun? Winning. Staying on top of things. Making people pay for things."

I bite the tip of my index finger while looking at him curiously.

“Commitment free fun.”

Honestly, I don’t know why my sisters have such a hard time finding hookups. Well, actually I don’t. Satin’s crazy, Silk’s a bitch and Velvet’s crazy and a bitch.I guess if you asked the right people, they’d say I’m crazy too, but I’m fun crazy, not stab you in face crazy.

I lull people into a false sense of security before doing that.

“I saw you at spin the bottle, Artie, a shame you didn’t land on me.”