smooth sailing; frankel

Sometimes, Katrina pitied the poor fucks unlucky enough not to be born in district four. What did they do for fun? Played with rocks or wandered alleyways for most of them, she assumed. Or shoveled cow crap from sun up until sun down. In four though, they had the ocean. The beach. Fishing. It was the happiest place on earth as far as she was concerned.

She walked down the shoreline, looking for a good spot to set up. She’d left her steel-toed boots at home for once, opting to go barefoot. Her bikini top was a deep green, and the bottom a pair of cut-off jeans, shortened to above her thighs. She liked to think having more of her legs exposed made her look taller. Even though she was pushing six foot, the presence it lent her was undeniable. That and the dark sunglasses.

Eventually, she found a decent spot, even though there were a couple of people around. Ones she recognized from the training center. Especially the one in the middle. Nevah Krearns. A girl from one of the families that people fell all over because they’d had tributes in the games. Big fucking deal. She thought sarcastically. It only mattered if you came home.

She wasn’t sure if she could say they were friends, but they knew each other. Had hung out in the same groupings of careers a couple times. Trained together. Bitch had a mouth on her, but Katrina could respect that as she had one too. However, unlike her, Nevah had enough charisma to have sycophants in her orbit. Or maybe it was just the family name. Seemed like she was popular enough that there were weak-minded careers ready to do whatever she said if it meant she was going to pay them attention.

Or maybe they just wanted a taste.

When she wasn’t trying to order people around, that Krearns girl was always sucking face, and rarely the same one twice. But hey, more power to her. If you got it, flaunt it, as the saying went. Bit of a control freak, but always up to do something fun. While Katrina could be prickly, she could tolerate people if they proved themselves. Like old Zedekiah whenever he’d gotten to. Shooting the shit in the locker room and drinking stolen beer? Good times.

Miss ya, Zeddy boy.

“Well, look what the tide dragged in,” she said, plunking down her small cooler and unfolding her lounge chair a few feet away. As usual, Nevah was being attended to by some goddamn simps, this time a wide-eyed girl that she’d probably convinced to buy her that ice cream to cool off, and a shirtless hunk of a young man that looked way too happy to be helping Nevah with her sunscreen.

She settled into her chair, leaning back and taking a cold beer out of the cooler, popping the top off and taking a swig. “Working on your tan today, Nevah? You do look a little pale.” She smirked. It was just a small jab. While she liked starting shit, that afternoon, relaxation was at the forefront of her mind.