portia maybach | district one | fin

One day the trophies became so heavy, the shelves ripped a hole in the wall. Now there’s two rooms filled with cabinets. Not even the eighty-year-old trophy has a single speck of dust on it, my family has hired a worker whose sole job is polishing them. That is their sole purpose in life, looking at their reflection in my family’s achievements.

Do I feel sorry for them? No. I don’t think so. Not when I hand them my ten-kilometre first place finishers medal. My eleventh one. Or the trophy I got from the career training academy for finishing second in the sparring tournament…behind my sister. One sly uppercut and she was crowned the winner. It doesn’t matter, so long as a Maybach is on the podium.

Nobody slows down in the Maybach family.

It is how its been for years now. It all started with a running club, then it turned into a career academy and now it is expanding with technology. Some of my cousins, I have never met before because they moved to Three to work on racing cars? It doesn’t interest me. There’s already an entertainment industry in One, why venture to the bowels of Panem when speed can be caught here?

Everything I need is here.

Life won’t stop when I turn nineteen either. Brand deals have been reserved with my name, the trend of volunteering just because you’re a career feels like it is phasing out. The victor’s crown would just fill another space in the trophy cabinets.