DISCLAIMER: I do not own THG and anything you think that aren't mine.
Previously in the Boy Next Door:
"Who," Madge drawls admiringly, "is that?"
I huffily glance around and follow her gaze. She's definitely looking at the guys next to Finnick. But I'm confused. It's just Marvel and Thresh talking to some blond who's holding a basketball. I furrow my eyebrows at Madge. "Marvel?"
"No, silly," she says, still staring.
"Thresh?"
"No! I'm talking about the good-looking blond whom Marvel and Thresh are talking to. The one holding a basketball."
I look back at them. "Good-looking?" I query, more confused this time. "How can you tell?" I demand, glancing at Madge. "All I can see is his back."
"That's my point!" she snaps. "How can anyone look so good from the back?!"
I wrinkle my forehead in bewilderment but try to consider what she just said. Returning my gaze back to the "good-looking" blond my friend is saying, I study his figure for a moment. Okay. He's tall, muscular, and really broad-shouldered. And now he has the ball spinning on the tip of his index finger as Marvel and Thresh laugh at whatever joke he's saying. Seriously, just turn around already.
Madge must have read my mind for she's now chanting beside me. "Turn around, turn around, turn around..." she says, her eyes searing through the blond lad.
I watch as Marvel glances over and accidentally spots us gazing over them. Our eyes lock for a moment before he laughs and says something to his two friends while nudging Thresh in the process and nods his head towards our direction.
Sure enough, Thresh looks at us, followed by the blondie who already has the ball back in his hands.
"Turn a-" Madge has stopped, mouth hanging open. "Oh. My. God. Is it just my imagination or they're all really looking at us?" She looks at the students behind our back, making sure that the threesome have their eyes on us and not on other people. But no, she's not imagining. They are really looking at us.
Madge looks back at the guys' direction then quickly turns to me and squeezes my wrist. "Eep! The blond is soo cute my panty is falling," she says in her irritating tiny voice.
I look at her heavy in disgust. "Will you behave yourself?" I chastise, roughly pulling my wrists back. I look at the blond again. Madge's right. He is indeed, really good-looking even from our view in here. Is he new? I haven't seen him before. Wait. He smirks. And his stare is insolent I don't know why. Is it because they catch us looking at them?
"You're right," Madge says. "Let's back out. I suddenly feel self-conscious."
"Very good," I say, then grab her wrist. "Let's go!"
But Madge pulls me back again. "Nooo! No backing out."
"What?! Madge, for pete's sake, make up your mind!" I exclaim in exasperation.
She shakes her head vigorously. "No backing out. We're already here. We're fearless. And we have to show everyone what we got," she tells me in what I suppose a forced determination.
"Madge," I begin reluctantly, "I'm not sure...but even you yourself doesn't sound so sure."
Madge opens her mouth in an attempt to protest but is interrupted by the sound of a whistle.
"Everybody take a deep breath!" Coach Effie, a former cheerleader herself, says. "And let's begin."
The noise starts to lessen and the tryout girls, except me and Madge, suck in and let out their breaths in a collective swish. A few people, including Coach, laugh at the noise they've made. I roll my eyes and fold my arms on my chest, while my friend here begins to inhale and exhale, trying to calm herself.
Why did I ever let her get me into this? Finnick Odair, I know. And now I just want to go home. Finnick Odair, I know. Ugh! What's with this guy? And is he really here to watch the tryout? Why doesn't he just go to the library and read books instead. Besides, that's what he always do.
Dang it.
I watch as Coach picks a small slip of paper from a bowl on the table, reads it to herself, and announces, "The first to go is number 12."
They all wait for whoever got the said number to step out wherever she is now. The gym falls silent as heads begin to whip from directions to directions. And I can see Finnick swinging his head, too! But of course, since he's cool, he does it in a cool way and isn't as curious as anybody. Haha!
Soon, whispers fill the room.
"Number 12?" Coach says, "Where are you, sweetie?"
I, also, begin to look around. That is when Madge slaps me on the arm.
"It's you, silly!" she scolds ever so damn loudly for EVERYONE to hear, sounding like I'm the dumbest person on earth as she eyes my chest really wide.
I pull my eyebrows together into a furrow as I look down at my chest.
Uh-oh.
A round sticker. Number 12. Is pasted on the upper left side of my shirt.
I look around again. But now, they have gone quiet and they are all looking at me. Finnick, too.
Waaa! This is so embarrassing!
Then I catch sight of that "good-looking" blond and I can see him looking at me sardonically. Then he begins to snicker. Marvel and Thresh join him. Then the others follow. Grr.
But, huh! As if I really care about what they think. I only care about what Finnick thinks.
Thank goodness he's not amused. He's not laughing. He just stands there, not really minding what's happening. And that's the thing I like the most about him. He's so cool.
Then my eyes rest back to the guys who start making fun of me. Marvel now has the ball. And the blond, the "mastermind" as I like to put it, now has his arms crossed on his chest making his strong muscles move and bulk up in the process. His chin is held high as he continues looking at me smugly.
Seriously. What's up with this guy? He's scaring the pants off me. And, fine. He's also making me feel self-conscious. I mean, who wouldn't? He's just so gorgeous. Even Madge's underwear falls. (God. I can't believe she can actually use such expression. Bad influence.)
"Ms. Everdeen, I believe."
Coach Effie's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
"So the best archer in the academy is trying out for the cheerleading squad," she says in an amused tone, then hums for a second. "Hmmm... Interesting," she comments. "Now show us your stuff, honey!"
I shoot a nervous glance at Madge.
"Go!" she whispers and pushes me encouragingly.
"What's the name of the team again?" I whisper back, my heart beating like drums.
"Mockingjay."
"What? But Peeta said they changed it to Angry Birds," I tell her.
"What? No! Just go!" She shoos me away so I can proceed to the tryout area.
I look at the people around me once more. I just know they're looking at me in a humorous and critical way. Dang, I want them out of my sight. And as much as possible, I'm trying not to look at the MAIN DISTRACTION of this very part of my life: Finnick. And of course, the 2nd distraction: Sardonic blond. Like I said, he's making me feel self-conscious.
If only this was archery, then I would've been confident enough to walk in the middle of the spotlight. I would've not wished for Finnick to go in the library and read books. Dang.
I jog towards the giant bin filled with cheerleading props and grab two pompoms. Then I maneuver in the middle of the gym, facing Coach Effie sitting behind the table. Standing around her is Glimmer, the squad's captain, and Annie and Johanna, the co-captains. Tell you, they're the HOTTEST girls in the academy. Just having them watching me makes me feel so...low.
"Uhh," I mutter, "should I start now?" I ask uncertainly.
Coach Effie, the perky observer, smiles at me. "That would be fantastic," she says sarcastically, making the audience snicker.
Grr. Why do I have to be the first one to go? I heave a deep breath and throw a glance at Madge who in return gives me the thumbs-up sign.
I scour my brain for the things she taught me.
She taught me how to tumble, do the somersault, cartwheel, and back handspring. But I never really tried any of those. I don't know. I just felt like I still wanted to be normal and still be in one piece before the tryout. And of course, after the tryout too. So, to keep my body parts still complete until the end of the day, I come up with a decision: I won't be doing all those bone-cracking stunts Madge had showed me.
I think claps, steps, stomps, and a little shake will do.
Hey, just so you know, I prepared for this day. I made my own cheer. And it kind of goes like this:
Hey you! Lousy team!
Our ball, in the ring!
We shoot it! Yeah, yeah.
We shoot it! Yeah!
Cos we're ANGRY. Uh-huh.
We're ANGRY. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.
Very very ANGRY BIRDS!
Well, thanks to Peeta! I had prepared a cheer for the team I had just found out, didn't exist! Grr.
But, hey! What if I'll just replace the words "Angry Birds" to "Mockingjay"?
Hey you! Lousy team!
Our ball, in the ring!
We shoot it! Yeah, yeah.
We shoot it! Yeah!
Cos we're MOCKING. Uh-huh.
We're MOCKING. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.
Very very MOCKINGJAY!
Eeh. I don't think it goes quite well. It sounds awkward. It's sad to say, but that cheer is best for team Angry Birds only.
And it only means one thing: I have to make another one. Think, Katniss. Think.
"Uhm, excuse me, are you just gonna stand there?" Johanna inquires impatiently, breaking my thoughts.
I blink and shake my head. "No."
"Then please, don't waste our time."
I lick my lips and take a deep breath. Then begin to stomp my right foot twice.
*Stomp, stomp, clap
Stomp, stomp, clap
Stomp, stomp, clap*
Along with the beat, I say,
"We will, we will, MOCK you! MOCK you!"
Familar? I know. That's the most decent cheer I can think of.
"We will, we will, MOCK you! MOCK you!
We will, we will, MOCK you! MOCK you!
We will, we will, M-"
"Okay, okay. You will mock them. We get it. Anything else you got there?" Coach Effie interrupts, clearly bored.
"No more coach," I say, then looks down, embarrassed.
"It's okay," she says in her now perky tone. "At least you tried."
"HOOOO!" someone cheers and claps vigorously.
I look around only to see Peeta doing that.
"HOOOO!"
Uhm, Peeta? Nice try. But you already screwed me up.
Then Gale hits him on the head. "Dude, what are you doing?" he chastises, then looks at everyone. "We don't know her," he says, denying me.
I glare at him. Traitor!
I look away in a huff and stroll back to Madge who, I can tell, is yelling at me on the inside.
"Somersault, back handspring, what happened to those?" she whispers angrily, eying me widely.
"I killed them."
She continued lecturing me for what I just did. I don't really pay much mind. I just look at Finnick. He's texting through his phone now. I just hope he's been doing that while I was there...making a fool of myself.
Madge gets my attention back when she starts to giggle. "Hey, blondie keeps on looking at you. I'm jelly."
I glare at her. A minute ago, she was just lecturing me. And now, she's fangirling. Tsk, tsk. Madge Undersee. Nothing can distract her more than CUTE GUYS.
Oh well, I look at the sardonic blond anyway. And Madge's right. He's looking at me. Again. I immediately look away, scared. Why does he keep on staring at me like that? Why does he keep on looking at me like he's ready to beat me up? Lord, what have I done to this guy? All I did is look at him! Is that a crime? And, why isn't he looking at Madge that way when she happens to be the one who's interested in him and not me?! I gulp and blink. "I think he likes me and wants to rape me," I say in horror.
But if it's horror to me, it's amazing to Madge. "Ooh! That is so cool!"
Tell me again why I'm bestfriend with this girl. Please.