Synopsis: Ashley isn't a fan of Prom. Not when it's advertised as this big, celebratory party exclusively for those at the top of the pecking order. But when Chris and Matt both decide to compete with each other to see who can win Ashley a Prom crown, who will succeed? And will that change her mind about the whole thing? A very short story about Prom, romance and obligatory long words.

Genre: Comedy, Romance, Friendship

Ending: Pre-Game

Rating: T

A/N:Wow. Where have I been? Seriously, I'm awful. I've been bouncing between work and writing for other projects. Sometimes I worry I'm balancing too many projects at once, haha. But I have too many ideas!

So, enjoy this chapter! As much as Ashley is bashing Matt, I actually really like him. And if it wasn't for Chris, I would definitely be shipping Mashley xD

Chapter Seven

Power Rangers and Olympic Medals

So, apparently, Matt can stop time. Who knew being popular was a superpower? Maybe I should try it sometime.

I visualise myself as a prim, pink bimbo in awkwardly fitting clothes with my hair back-combed about a thousand times. I grimace.

Then again, maybe not.

The school had practically halted as soon as Matt had spouted the challenge. Even the teachers are going along with it. It's almost like this is a National event. Somebody call the Olympics!

I tuck into the crowd, fitting plainly into the bleachers. As much as I'd rather go to Literature class, the room was far too empty and Sam was far too eager to drag me with the rest of the world. It also helped that she'd teased about Chris. I'd simply glared at her and given in. Obviously.

The bleachers are sticky. I shiver and tuck my fingers around the edges of the cold, metal slab of a seat. And suddenly, this is the biggest regret in my entire life. Because my middle finger collides into the slimy, toffee goo of age old chewing gum.

I retch and yank my hand back, shaking it like a crazed maniac. I'm pretty sure I hit the guy next to me in the shoulder in the process. He glares at me like I just killed his wife and family.

Great job, Ashley.

I cradle the offended hand, whimpering. I will never be able to use this hand the same way again.

I knew there was a reason I don't come here. Ever.

I can hear distant chants of Matt's name across the football field and I can practically feel the testosterone in the air, clinging to my skin like sweat. It makes me wrinkle my nose. Ew. Is this what man smells like? No thank you.

The best thing my father ever gave to me was his X chromosome. Thanks, Dad!

Matt, like the Power Ranger he is, marches across the field, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his hands together. Right now, he's chief of the grins. His eyes sparkle with the adrenaline of a challenge and the taste of popularity. His crunching steps of crisp grass are followed by the cheers and whoops of his fellow classmates.

I make a face at him just in time for his eyes to scan the bleachers. And land directly on me. He grins, winking and making a face back. No. Go away. I hide my head in my shoulders. I just want to shrivel up.

"Is he really that bad?" Sam coos as she finally finds a seat beside me, two large bags full to the brim with popcorn. Hannah follows close behind with her own bag.

"You brought popcorn?" I stare incredulously at her. I'm pretty sure my jaw just unhooked and fell off my face.

Sam just shrugs, adjusting into her seat, passing a bag to me.

I stare at it for a second. At this point, I would be internally debating with myself. But let's be honest; who would seriously say no to popcorn? So, obviously, I take it and tuck it safely on my lap. This definitely makes up for the chewing gum. Barely.

"Fellas! Ladies! And Jesters of the court!" Matt grins as he takes the metaphorical stage and addresses the bleachers. "I'd like to present to you the first, annual Prom King games!"

The audience erupts with cheers. Even Sam whoops beside me, spilling some of her popcorn. I stare achingly at the poor pieces that scatter on the cold, concrete ground. Tears. Their fate will now succumb to being trampled on by some witless numbskull who has no heart for lost foods like these.

Donate $1 a month now to save helpless lives like this popcorn!

RIP.

But my eyes quickly flit up when I hear Matt introduce his opponent – Chris.

The bleachers chill with silence. "Woo! Go Chris!" Josh's lone voice cheers from the grass, watching Chris awkwardly pace across the field.

I can't help but grin. What? He's kind of contagious.

"Yeah!" My voice shouts before I can help it. Sam glances at me in surprise before laughing. I can hear the trickle of Hannah joining in with the cheering – though it's probably only because she wants to be on her big brother's side.

One by one, more people start clapping and cheering for Chris. And I suddenly realise that these are the outsiders. The people that just slip in and fade out. The people like me.

And, as Chris lifts his shoulders in triumph, confidence building in me, something finally clicks. He could actually do this. He could actually win Prom King.

Because when has there ever been a Prom anything to represent the people? Yes, the popular ones might have the power. But they will always be outnumbered by the majority. The little ones like me.

Pride blooms in my chest. Chris glances up and catches my eye. I laugh giddily as the cheers take over, the majority louder than ever. He grins back.

But. You know. I'm totally still mad at him.

And then Matt calls out the yells are cut short. And Chris' face falls.

Because Matt has just announced the first challenge. An all-in-one relay marathon.

Whatever the hell that is.

"Are you serious?" I stare blankly at Matt, only to be met with his ferociously popular grin. "I have to give you a piggyback?"

He shrugs. "It's in the rules," he says plainly.

"Don't bullcrap me," I glare at him. "You made the rules, dumbass. You can change them."

He just chuckles at me. Seriously. I could kill him more than ever right now.

So, apparently, an all-in-one relay marathon involves partners. Because, apparently, potential prom kings need them. Obviously.

As soon as Matt had announced that partners were needed for these infamous relay marathons, a thousand eager hands shot up at once.

But the two knuckle-heads had both headed straight towards me; Matt striding and Chris hesitating and fumbling. Wow. All I ever wanted. Two guys fighting over me. How original.

But, of all the luck, Matt was the one who reached me first.

I would have blatantly said no – duh! - if it weren't for the eager eyes of my fellow crown-followers, finally seeing someone like them being noticed; 'making it big'. I grimaced, feeling a tug on my heart. I couldn't crush their hope as easily as I could Matt's. I was like their Katniss Everdeen – except with less blood and guts.

Though that could be arranged.

It also didn't help that Chris had given up so quickly – because I totally would have said yes to him – and had then glanced desperately at the girl beside me; "Sam?"

She'd simply snorted at him, a quick answer to result in him being paired up with Hannah. Sam had whispered to me that they looked kind of cute – the "glasses pair". I'd growled at her and she'd laughed back, flying her hands up in surrender.

"You know I'm just going to sabotage you, right?" I raise my eyebrow at Matt, hooking my hands at my hips. Matt has hidden us away in one of the changing rooms lining the court – which is basically a glorified shed. Football shirts hang from hooks like rotting rags. And there's a few ambiguous stains on the floor that I'm not at all willing to investigating. And everything stinks of sweat. My nose wrinkles. Hasn't any of these jocks heard of personal hygiene.

He chuckles, simply scooping my hands away before I can even stop him. "Sure you will," he tuts sarcastically before pecking a quick, playful kiss on my cheek. I grimace at him and push away, my hand instinctively swiping away the remains of his saliva.

"Ew," I stick my tongue out at him.

He grins before ushering me out the door into the blazing cheers of the crowd. And the stench of my depleting self-respect.

Yay.