Cutting Diamonds {Bitter}

”Mom, I’m going out!” I yell as I open our house’s front door. I place one foot outside and look back as I hear footsteps pounding toward me. My mother has a brush in her hand and a look of purpose on her face. ”Mom! We already did my hair!” I whine. She starts to run the brush through my already fixed hair.

”But it’s a boy, Delilah! You have to look your best! After all, we wouldn’t want you to end up alone and-“

”Mom!” I yell. She draws away slowly.

”I’m sorry, honey,” she says, tucking a piece of my hair behind my right ear, ”I just want you to have a good life.” She pulls me into a tight hug, and then withdraws, waiting for me to leave.

I smile, wave goodbye, and then leave our house. I begin to run as I look at the watch on my left hand. ”Almost late,” I say to myself. I dash through the streets of District 2, not stopping to talk to anyone. No one even pays me any attention, being used to the Careers’ rowdy ways.

I almost run right past Thomas’s house, but, luckily, I see him sitting on the steps, waiting for me. I smirk and walk up to him. I glance up at the house, admiring its beauty, but not gawking like I’m sure he expects me to do. I close the distance between us and sit down on the steps next to him. My jacket is open, so I’m sure he sees my knives and shuriken daggers in the inside pockets. ”So what’s the lesson for today, boss?” I ask, mocking a salute.

My eyebrows shoot up. My lips curl down in an expression of confusion. Conversation starters? Who would use conversation starters in The Hunger Games? It’s not like you go up to someone you’re about to murder and say as fancily as you can, “Hello, my dear pigeon spaghetti. I do believe I wish to murder you to smithereens.” After all, the Games aren’t some kind of murder dinner party. I attempt to curl my lips back into a smile, but my eyebrows refuse to lower. It just doesn’t make sense.

”Well, I wanted to teach you some Kyusho Jitsu moves today if that’s alright.”And, despite my mother’s theory, I am not doing that just so my hands will be all over him. Well…..maybe a little, but not much at all. I grab his hand reluctantly and drag him over to below some trees. Nice and shady for some “conversation starter” lessons. With his button down shirt and my over-combed hair it could be a tea party. Just add a table, some cups, and a crazy man with an unfashionable hat.

It takes me a few moments to realize I am still holding his hand, and when I do notice, I withdraw without any form of hesitation. My eyes meet his, my eyes wide with shock. "Um.... sorry." I murmur, embarrassed. I brush some hair out my eyes and my eyes try not to meet his. I bite my bottom lip, scared. Why are you getting so worked up about this, you idiot! I think to myself. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I think - almost not a thought at all, barely a whisper of a thought - Because I don't want to lose him.

I pause for a long moment after he finishes speaking, contemplating my choices like it could mean life or death. My eyes finally meet his, mine sad and protective, his normal. Normal. He obviously has no feelings for me. Sorry, mom. I think. This one isn’t going to have your grandchildren. Well…..probably not. I giggle lightly, thinking about raising a child with this guy and- What are you thinking?! I yell at myself. You met him yesterday and now you’re planning on him knocking you up?! I frown and cross my arms across my chest.

”Nothing,” I grunt, irritated. However, when he mentions Kyusho Jitsu, my face lightens. ”Yeah, you’re saying it right. And…..trees won’t exactly help with that. We kind of have to do it to each other.” As soon as the words escape my lips, I realize how that would sound. ”I mean, we have to do the moves with each other. Actually um…… We have to punch each other.” Finally, after escaping my mind’s perversity, I shrug and fake a smile. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I tell myself, wanting to beat myself upside the head.

”Unless, of course, you want to do it in the back. That would be fine too.” My cheeks flush. Ignore it, Lyla. He’s not perverted like you.

My bottom lip quivers and my eyes open and close quickly, not quite comprehending that he is saying. "Thomas!!! Maybe it's best if we....just get to the.... pounding." I groan in annoyance. Standing up, I kick him twice in the legs. "Stand up, lazy bum! Let's get to it!" I rub my hands together and sigh, preparing myself for the beating I will be giving. I can practically hear my mother's voice in my head. You're gonna get to touch him EVERYWHERE! Oh my god... my daughter is growing up.

"And no, we are not going to practice on trees. You would just get yourself hurt and I would be really.....just don't hit a tree."

When he says that he already knows all there is to know about striking, my face feel. My eyebrows rise in a silent thought. Are you kidding me?. No man I have ever met has known the first move of striking and definitely not all of it. Unless, of course, he is mistaking striking with street fighting, in which case he would be making a very stupid mistake. Anyone who would mistake punching some overly muscled guy a few times with manipulating a person by their body's natural meridians would be a very stupid person indeed.

Actually, my style deals mainly with the pressure points of the human body and with using them to my advantage. I can break people's arms and legs, blind them, deafen them, put them in a daze, and even cut off their vocal cords. I don't work very much with grappling though. I'm not exactly the "get all oiled up and wrestle" kind of girl." I laugh at that last part and pop my knuckles. I may have been exaggerating just a bit, but if it makes him respect me, I'm okay with it.

”Of course it’s safe! It’s not like I’m going to actually hurt you or anything.” I look deep into his eyes, searching for some sign of fear, but not finding any. Either he is a much better actor than any District 2 male should be, or he is fearless. Most likely the former. His eyes sparkle with eagerness. Good, I think. I’m about to make your eagerness turn to regret. I smile mischievously. ”If you’re sure you’re ready, let’s get started.”

I rest my right hand just below his chest and pause for a moment, forgetting what I’m doing. At this moment, my mother would be yelling, “Go for it, honey! He’s so handsome and sweet! Kiss him!” But I know that isn’t a good idea. After all, how many teachers kiss their students….and get away with it? None. My mind snaps out of the trance I had went into and I look up, seeing Thomas staring at me with a look of confusion. ”This is-“ I cough, my throat acting up. I remove my hand from his chest and continue. ”This is the first move I’m going to be showing you today.”

I ignore him staring into my eyes like their buried treasure, and begin to explain the move. ”With this move,” I gesture to the point below his chest, ”You can knock down an opponent. It’s actually the simplest of all the moves I’m going to teach you. What you do, is you jab that point like this,” I demonstrate by making a fist, “And you move from below the point to the point, instead of going head on to the point. You understand?” I ask, hopefully. I’m not a very good teacher.

My hand finds its way back to the point on his chest, and I smile. ”Right here,” I poke him a few times in the spot, laughing. ”And don’t you ever try this move on me, because it….it isn’t exactly as….appropriate.” I laugh nervously, removing my hand from the pressure point. My eyes look into his, waiting for a response of some kind. His eyes look at me like I’m as beautiful as Aphrodite, or as hideous as Medusa.