Dead Girl Walking ― Aaron Minyard

49. you're on your own, kid

i gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this
i hosted parties and starved my body
like i'd be saved by a perfect kiss
― taylor swift

♦

THE ERC POSTED THE FOLLOWING WEEK'S LINE-UP that Friday. Six teams from the evens bracket were proceeding to the death match, compared with eight from the odds. The Foxes would face the University of Vermont Catamounts at home. UT was up against Nevada and Washington State would take on Binghamton. In the odds bracket, the Big Three had miraculously avoided drawing each other's names. They'd all proceed to the third round, along with whichever team won the Oregon-Maryland match. 

With nothing to do that weekend, the upperclassmen made plans for a movie night in the girls' dorm.

Mara spent the night in the art studio, all but hiding from the ill-advised friends she'd made. Then, when Laurel came and Mara remembered how many times she'd waved to her during tutoring sessions with Bryson, she made a vague excuse and escaped to the dining hall. 

Mara had learned young how to stay out of sight and out of mind, and she used those lessons now, if only to limit the carnage Bryson and her past would inevitably bring.

The stress of the week leading up to their first death match made the disconnect easier. All of them were panicking in their own ways, and Mara could feel it like she felt the ticking of a countdown clock. 

Dan tried playing it cool, but there was a palpable strain in her voice as she directed the team at practices. Allison harped at the fractured defense line any chance she got, and Kevin was awful to all of them. Matt was marginally better at keeping his act together, but the further into the week they got, the more restless and anxious he seemed. Even Renee was feeling it, looking more and more tired with every passing day.

When they hit the court for their first death match, no one was expecting the fight they brought to it. Forty-five minutes into the game, the Catamounts were trailing by three points. On the TV in the Foxes' locker room, the sportscasters were shaking their heads in amazement. 

"I'm with you on this one, Marie. I'm not entirely sure who we're looking at now or what they did with last year's Foxes, but they've completely blown me away."

Mara watched in silence from the bench, tightening her wrist guards. She hadn't started, instead going on for the whole of the second half, so she was restless and ready to step out onto the court. A tiny part of her pitied the poor fuck made to be her mark, but she needed an outlet, and brutal body-checks were better than hunting Bryson down and cutting him open six ways to Sunday. 

"Quite honestly, I never expected them to finish the season," Marie said. "The number of setbacks they've endured this year is unbelievable and I was sure they'd bow out in November. It's a serious credit to this year's line-up that they've made it this far. This is the first Fox roster that actually embraces teamwork."

"Indeed," her male counterpart agreed. "This is the kind of synchrony you expect from top-notch schools. A few weeks ago we all laughed when freshman Neil Josten said the Foxes were raring for a rematch with the Ravens. No one's laughing now. If they can keep this momentum and keep playing like they are tonight, they stand a real chance of proceeding to semifinals."

"Ten minutes left of halftime," Marie said. "The score is ten-seven. It's going to take some serious footwork for the Catamounts to recover. We're less than an hour from seeing if the Foxes can secure their first death match victory. Let's take a look at some highlights from the first half, and then—"

Dan turned the TV off and stood in front of the dark screen. Matt gave her a minute, then touched her shoulder to get her attention. She answered his questioning look with a wry smile.