Prompt: High school version where Madge is a cheerleader and Gale is a football player.

Prompt submitted by lady Isabella Black.

Chapter I of II

"I'm gonna fuck her tonight," Cato's muttered as a whistle pierced through the air, sending rows of tall, young men face first into the grass. Staccato chirps directed the whole team into a frenzy of push-ups- up, down, up, down. At the next shrill sound, the boys hauled themselves back to their feet and sprinted to the 30-yard line.

"What?" Gale asked, panting as he kept pace with Cato. "Who?" He lunged down, slapping one palm to the painted line on the turf and turned to sprint back to the end-zone. He didn't have to kill himself to be the first one back, but he sure as hell wasn't about to let Cato get there before him.

Thresh wedged himself between Gale and Cato to join the conversation, "He's talking about that new cheerleader- the blonde." He jerked his head toward the side of the field, at the huddle of cheerleaders looking miserable in their sunny, yellow sweaters.

"Why do we need a new cheerleader?" Gale rolled his eyes and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. "They get a new one 'cause Cato already fucked all the old ones?"

Gale could hear Thresh's laughter as he pulled ahead of them.

Gale shot a cursory glance at the girls with their tiny skirts and giant pom-poms. God, how the hell were they not freezing their asses off? There was nothing normal about cheerleaders, not the way they threw each other 20 feet in the air nor the way they flung their limbs around like they didn't have joints. Gale shuddered and sprinted faster, desperately trying to warm up his numb feet. It was the middle of November- definitely not mini-skirt weather.

None of the girls in his life would ever consider becoming a cheerleader. As Katniss frequently reminded him, she would rather die than "shake her ass to cheer on a bunch of useless jocks". Prim was too busy volunteering at the animal shelter down the street after-school and at the senior center on weekends. And little Posy, as much as she thought the cheerleaders were "so tall and pretty" would never waste her time on something so aimless- Hazelle would make sure of that.

Gale tugged at his collar, itchy and sweaty under all the layers of padding. He could already feel the shoulder pads chafing at the back of his neck. He couldn't wait to hit the showers. If anyone bothered to ask him if he enjoyed football, he'd say no. And if they asked him why, he had about a million reasons why. He hated the constant aches and paint from being tackled. He hated the the incessant hours of drills and practices- before and after school. He hated that the team parents were so aggressively involved that they ruined the sport for anyone who actually played because they liked it. He hated that when he got home every day, all he wanted to do was collapse into bed, but instead he had to change and drag his ass to work. But the thing he hated most of all was definitely the amount of padding he constantly had to lug around on his shoulders and back. There was absolutely no weather condition in which it was anything less than pure torture.

Every day, Gale imagined a new 5 second fantasy where he quit the team. Some were dramatic, he'd imagine throwing his gear to the turf and marching off the field without a word. And others were more nuanced. He'd sit across from Coach and explain his decision rationally. Either way, he has 5 seconds of pure, unadulterated joy before some schmuck snapped the ball and the game was back on.

He couldn't quit and he knew it. If his grades were his ticket out of the coal streaked town, football was his backup ride. A second scholarship in case the academic one fell short. And his mother taught him to always have a backup.

Football gave him one other thing. It gave him access.

He had unfettered entry through the front doors of all the old-money estates and new-money mansions in town. He was the poor kid with talent. Their own little diamond in the rough. Everyone wanted a piece of Gale Hawthorne, if only to take credit for his success.

At Capitol High, stereotypes were entirely accurate- rich kids stuck together, poor kids did the same. The kids from powerful families didn't give a fuck because they knew their parents could buy them into to any university in the country; the kids from the 'wrong side of the tracks' didn't give a fuck because they knew they'd be choking to death in the coal mines or knocked up with some coal miner's brat right out of high school.

The few people who crossed line, went from poor to rich or vice versa, had pitifully little to show for their efforts. Haymitch Abernathy went from dirt-poor to the richest, drunkest, most unhappy in town; Cynthia Everdeen was a lovely woman in a run-down house and a ragged dress. Once upon a time, she'd been the pampered daughter of the wealthiest mine owner in three counties. She left everything behind to marry a coal miner who died in an accident and left her with one hungry little girl and another on the way.

Who'd want to cross the line after the examples Haymitch and Cynthia had set?

But Gale didn't have time to care about where the lines were. He barely had time to breathe. After his dad died in that same mine accident, Gale's mother, Hazelle, had laid down the law- Nothing less than exceptional was acceptable. So he wasn't just the running-back on Capitol's Varsity Football team (he'd been breaking school records since his freshman year), he also had the 3rd highest GPA in senior year and worked part-time at his grandfather's auto-repair shop.

He went to school, to practice, to work, then home to help Hazelle with the other kids. He didn't have time to listen to Cato's weekly declarations, although they were always undoubtedly entertaining. He always pretended though.

Every Monday morning started out the same, Cato and Marvel, and sometimes Finnick, went back and forth to pick one girl. One lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it) girl. Whoever fucked her first won. There was always an obscene amount of money involved- but for guys like Cato, the ones born with a silver spoon, money wasn't the object. They played for pride.

Another thing Gale didn't have time for. But he'd always pretend to care because Cato's front door and connections were only open for as long as Gale lied through his teeth.

Whoever the girl of the week was, she was in for some half-assed flirting and bad sex. But more likely than not, she'd be flattered by the attention and drop her panties the instant Cato crooked his finger (the guy's father had more money than Croesus). For her trouble, she'd be rewarded with a Bvlgari necklace, identical to the one Cato gave all his other girls, and a smack on the ass.

Gale turned slightly and narrowed his eyes at the blonde. Soon she'd just be another one of Cato's bitches. But…she looked familiar.

A sharp whistle dragged Gale from his thoughts. He dropped to the the grass for push-ups, four this time. As he hopped back to his feet, bouncing from one foot to the other to stay warm, Gale looked toward the girls again- they were practicing their halftime routine now. There was something about that blonde. She didn't look like your typical cheerleader. There was less pep in her step. Less bounce in her … ponytail. Gale smirked at his thoughts as he narrowed his eyes at her, determined to figure out who this Cato's new target was.

He shuffled to the edge of the end zone and waited for the whistle.

One short chirp and he sprinted along the white line on the turf. He could make out the navy and white "C" on her sweater now. A few more steps. Fuck, she turned away to grab her stupid pom-poms. Just a few more steps…

Wait- was that?

No. it couldn't be.

But it looked like... Undersee?

Madge Undersee?

Look for Part II soon!

-M-