Er...this chapter is one I'm not proud of, but it's here-?

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Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

My lungs burn as my legs strain forward, and a trickle of sweat drips down my cheek. I'm so close to the line that indicates I would have run down half the field, and I'm actually getting excited, but suddenly Cato catches up to me and tackles me sideways.

The wind is knocked out of my lungs as we go down hard. My back takes the worst impact on the ground, but Cato's body come crashing down on top of mine at the same time. The football goes flying from my fingers. I think someone picks it up, but I can't tell anything, since Cato's beefy, heavy form is still thrown over me. And far too close to me, let me tell you; he's so sweaty that I can practically smell each drop of sweat as it rolls down his face.

Cato rolls off of me, finally getting the idea to wipe the sweat off his face. His hand shoots out and grips my wrist, successfully grabbing hold of me and jerking me upwards a little more painfully than a friend should.

"You're getting rusty, Mellark," he mocks, obviously smug from his succesful tackle.

I smirk a little, just to mock him back, and I say back just as smugly, "You must be pretty rusty, too. You let me get all those yards and you didn't even try that hard to stop me."

He frowns a little, but he doesn't respond.

The whistle blows again, and the coach yells for the final play to start. Cato and I jog towards the center of the field, arranging ourselves in our positions. Finnick, the quarterback on my team, clamps a hand on my shoulder encouragingly as he takes his place, and I just now he's going to send the ball my way when the whistle blows.

I'm shoved up against some beefy guy- Gloss, I think his name is- when Finnick makes a hand signal that starts off our play. He throws the ball, and I catch it squarely in my arms as Gloss and the player behind me guard as I start to run.

I begin sprinting forward again. I duck past Cato and some other members of his team, but he's the only one who immediately starts to pursue me. Determined to make it this time, I strain my legs forward, even though they scream in pain with every yard that I take.

"Go, Peeta!" screams some random girl from the bleachers.

I've grown accustomed to ignoring the yells of my fellow students- I have to keep a level head. I keep going, never even pausing, dodging the opponents that have scattered themselves around me. Marvel makes a pretty aggressive grab towards the ball, but I swerve out of the way and he falls over.

Finnick hollers something, but I don't hear him over the blood that is thumping in my ears. I'm panting heavily as I strain forward now. Usually that would make the coach upset- she doesn't like it when we don't regulate our breathing- but even she couldn't stop me now.

I hear Cato cursing behind me and hear the distinctive sound of two bodies hitting the floor. Good, someone's tackled him. Now all I have to do is reach the end zone, and it's so close...

Brutus throws himself in my path, but I duck to the side of him. Unfortunately, the move throws me off balance, and I end up falling to the side clumsily. Brutus notices this and swipes for the ball, but I yank the ball closer and burst forward.

The whistle blows when I pass the line of the end zone.

The few people in the bleachers erupts into cheers. Fuck yeah, I've scored a touchdown. There's no way the couch can ignore that; I'm definitely going to be on the team this year.

Finnick comes beside me, and he whoops, "Atta boy, Peeta!"

The other players start going in from the field as the game buzzer goes off. My team's won, and the other players on my team are whooping along with Finnick. The ones on the losing team also come trickling beside us on the coach's call.

Finnick is busy rubbing his knuckles on my head when Cato and Marvel join us in the field. Marvel immediately congratulates us on our win and jokingly declares I almost killed him, but Cato's icy stare isn't quite as welcoming when he greets us.

"Listen up, boys," the coach, Atla, yells. And while she's a gentle looking woman, I can assure you that she has the soul of a forty-something-year-old cranky man when it comes to football. "You all had a great scrimmage. I'll post the results tomorrow, but for now, you're dismissed. Get some water or something if you need it."

I join Finnick, Marvel, and Cato as we walk off the field to where the water boy is setting out cups of water. The water boy is pale and scrawny, and he has a crippled leg. Even without looking, I know that Cato's smirking at the sight. The thought makes an apprehensive cold feeling in my stomach bloom.

"Thanks," Finnick says as he takes a cup, grinning his charming smile. He also hands one to me, and I gratefully toss it back as eagerly as Finnick does. My itchy, aching throat seems to exhale as the cold water trickles down it.

Cato takes his own cup, but he doesn't drink it as fast as Finnick and I did. Instead, he settles to small sips, staring at the water boy with dangerous, glittering blue eyes.

"So you're going to be the water boy this year, huh?" Cato says casually.

"Yeah," the guy mumbles, not quite meeting Cato's eye.

Cato smirks, but he doesn't say anything else just yet; first, he swallows the rest of his water, and then he crushes the cup in his hand. The cup gets thrown onto the ground, and Cato slowly drops his elevated hand to his side, his body swaggering slightly to the side in a threatening manner.

"Part of that job is picking up the used cups that get dropped," says Cato smugly. "Get to it."

The crippled boy seems to get even paler than he already is.

"Dude," Finnick intervenes, "chill."

"What?" Cato plays the innocent. "Isn't that his job? Peeta, you know it's his job, don't you?" He fixates his cold eyes on me, and he's smirking like the arrogant asshole he is because he knows I won't say anything against him.

Well, I decide that I am going to speak up against him- I may be a scared, pathetic ass, but even I don't think Cato's ever justified with anything- but I am stopped when the crippled boy bends down to reach for the cup.

That is when everything goes wrong.

Cato's leg lashes out so fast anyone could've missed it. The crippled boy's good leg gives away and he hits the ground, hard. The cup, which is within a few inches of his hand, lays untouched.

"C'mon, freshman," Cato jeers. "Get the cup."

The crippled boy tries to shakily get up, but this time, Cato kicks the boy's crippled leg. The boy winces in pain, but he doesn't make any sound as he falls back onto the floor, pained.

My body tenses, and I'm about to step forward when Finnick's hand grips my shoulder.

"Don't," he mutters quietly. "You'll make it worse."

I'm about to argue, but then Cato looks in our direction. Luckily he didn't notice that I had tried to help the boy, or he would've been doing a lot more than looking.

The crippled boy pushes himself up with quivering arms as he gets into a sitting position. His crippled leg is awkwardly splayed out as he struggles to get up from his good one.

"Get up, water boy," Cato taunts, grinning a sick smile. Cato then proceeds to spit at the boy's feet, which seems to be the breaking point for the boy, because the boy looks as though he's about to cry.

My stomach's cold, sick feeling only grows as every second passes. Finnick still has his hand on my shoulder, and his fingers grip my shoulder tighter as if he's holding on to me for his own benefit. But Cato's words- water boy- remind me of how he called me lover boy yesterday, and it's echoing through my mind.

Even then, I swallow the urge to do something.

"Pathetic," Cato says surely, and he takes a cup of water and flicks it at the boy on the ground. The water splashes the guy in the face. After Cato does this, he reaches out and helps the guy up, only to say, "This never happened. You get that?"

The water boy nods feverishly before he nervously stammers, "I-I do."

Cato nods back. "Good."

Cato turns and walks away. Marvel, Finnick, and I can only follow.

"Man, that guy was pathetic," Marvel pipes up as we walk, oblivious to the way Finnick looks a little pissed and the way that my body is tensed. "I wonder why the coach got him."

"I know, right?" Finnick says, but his laugh sounds forced to me.

"Forget that," Cato says dismissively, not even mentioning how he just bullied someone who had done nothing to him. "The real question is whether we're doing anything tonight."

"Let's go out," Marvel suggests. "The girls are waiting for us in the bleachers."

He's right. Madge, Clove, and Glimmer are waiting for us in the stands, talking to some of the other girls we hang out with- Enobaria and Cashmere are the two I recognize right off. Brutus, Gloss, and some of the other guys are there, too.

I walk over to Madge.

"Hey," I say, and she gives me a weak smile.

"Hi," she says softly. "You were great."

She sounds depressed. And I don't use the word depressed lightly.

"Madge, are you okay?" I ask, confused.

She nods. "Yeah. Why?"

"No, you're not," I retort. "Something's going on with you, and I don't understand it. Is- is everything alright at home?" I ask this question because Madge's mother is very sick, and I'm worried that something has happened.

"Yeah," Madge repeats. "It's all good. Really."

"Madge-"

"I'm fine, Peeta, honestly," she says, and this time she sounds a lot more defensive. "I'm just feeling a little under the weather, and with school starting it's been kind of stressful. I'm...tired, that's all."

If she was really tired, why wouldn't she have said that before? I know there's more to what she's telling me, and I voice that as I argue, "That's bullshit, Madge. You're not telling me something."

Madge sighs, and her hand goes to the bridge of her nose. "You wouldn't understand."

Well, that doesn't fit well into my head. I'm the guy who always has to be the one to offer emotional support, no matter what, and I'm the guy who just knows when something's going on.

"I can try," I suggest, and Madge smiles just the tiniest bit.

"Not today, Peeta," she says, sighing. "Maybe later."

"I'll hold you to that," I warn, and she smiles a tight-lipped smile.

Somehow, I know she won't tell me anything, but I don't want to push her. Sometimes it's better to leave things alone, and this is one of those things.

We both rejoin the conversation that's going on between the rest of our friends. Finnick's talking about sneaking into a bar, Clove and Glimmer want to sneak into a dance club, and Cato and Marvel want to go back to Cato's house to have a makeshift party.

In the end, neither wins, because we have to stay where we are to hang out as the cheerleaders start tryouts. Clove, being head cheerleader of course, has to set the example and actually do stuff, while Glimmer and Madge help her out in their own ways.

I'm not going to lie and say that I think cheerleading is boring. Come on, hot girls in miniskirts? No guy with sense would pass up on the chance to see that. Still, while we sit and watch tryouts (which involves Clove, Glimmer, and Madge doing some demonstrations), I'm feeling kind of bored, so I start to scan the faces of the people in the stands.

There's the friends of the girls trying out for cheerleading, the girlfriends of the guys trying out for the football team, random kids there because they actually like the sports, the usual. I'm about to turn my attention back to the cheerleaders, but then I see Katniss Everdeen sitting a few rows away.

She's staring out at the field, but there's no trace of emotion on her face, not even her usual scowl that makes her look as though she's annoyed with the world. For some reason, this makes me nervous.

No, nervous isn't quite the right word. Guilty is.

Finnick elbows me in the ribs, clearly having seen her as well. Before I can even complain that it's Friday, aka my stress-free day, and I don't want to do anything involving the bet today, he decides to be an asshole and say something.

"Isn't that Katniss?" he teases, as if I'm a boy in love.

This piques Cato's attention, and he looks. Marvel, being himself, also has to look. Katniss- as if sensing all the people staring at her- turns to stare at us. When her eyes meet mine- gray on blue- a curious feeling blooms in my chest. I'm not sure what it is, but it has a lasting effect.

Lamely, I muster up a grin and I give an offhanded wave her way.

She turns away.

Finnick chuckles from his spot, showcasing his dimples as he grins teasingly at me. "You're going to let that stop you?" His words are just as teasing as his grin is.

I stand up. "No, I was just...I don't know."

Even as I say the words, I cringe. I'm never that inarticulate.

"What a lovely way with words you have, Mellark," Finnick replies. "I'm seriously wondering why Katniss hasn't jumped you yet; you are such a catch." He even clamps his hand dramatically over his heart as teases me further.

"Fuck off, Finnick," I grumble, and I brush at my jacket collar. "I am going to get her."

"Hey, I didn't say you wouldn't," Finnick insists, holding his hands up to show his innocence. "I'm just wondering what's taking so long, since she can't stand you and it's been a week."

"Right. It's been just a week." I brush off his words. "And would you stop talking about this all the time? I don't want her to find out it's a bet so she can hate me even more."

"Don't worry, man," Marvel pipes up. "The others are sworn to secrecy."

I open my mouth to ask if Madge knows, but then I close it. I'm not sure if I should ask them about Madge. Madge and Katniss are friends, so if Madge knows, she's going to tell; Madge is terrible at keeping secrets. At the same time, I don't want them to not tell Madge, because I don't want Madge to think I'm an asshole at the end of it all.

"Okay," is what I finally mutter, and I then turn away to get to Katniss.

When I walk over to her, her body tenses visibly.

"Hey," I greet her, awkwardly sticking my hands into my pockets. "I know last time I tried to sit down with you didn't work out very well, but can I sit next to you again?" I add a lopsided grin to my words, hoping that might be the icing on the cake to sell the act.

Katniss looks up, and her gray eyes aren't as steely as before when she answers, "If you want."

So I sit down.

"What brings you here?" I ask. "Did you come to see me try out?" I add the last part teasingly, because obviously that is not the case and I figure it can break some of the awkward tension.

"No," she says curtly. "My friend tried out, too. I'm waiting for him while he changes."

"Oh, really? Who?" I ask, trying to be nice.

Katniss shrugs and doesn't answer. Maybe it's a weird subject for her.

"...Alright, then. So, how are your classes going?" I ask, just to change the subject.

"Okay." She pauses. "How- how are yours?"

And just like that, things get sort of weird. It's like Katniss is actually trying to be nice to me or something, or at least humoring me. Though she looks hesitant to speak to me, she's really trying.

I wonder why.

"I guess the same." I offer her a half-smile. "Er...I meant to ask you something."

She's quiet for a second, but then she says, "Shoot."

"Yesterday you seemed kind of angry at me," I say cautiously. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but did I come off the wrong way? I'm not sure what you think I am, but I don't want you to assume the wrong things about me."

Katniss grimaces. "Right- that. I actually...meant to apologize about that. It was rude of me to say," she admits begrudgingly. "I guess it was just a weird day for me."

I try to seem nonchalant as I say, "So we're cool, then?"

"Sure," she says, and she looks disgusted as she adds, "We're...cool."

I smile a little at the way she scrunches up her nose at the word cool. She looks so funny like that, but clearly she can't tell, because when she sees my smile she only scowls.

This makes me want to smile even more, but I refrain.

"Oh," I add hastily, "I was wondering if I could get your number, too."

"What?" Her lips part in confusion after she speaks, and her eyes widen in what can only be some sort of panic mode. "Why do you want my number?"

"To contact you," I reply. "I mean, that's normally why people exchange numbers."

A look from Katniss tells me it's not the time to joke.

I grin and add, "We're lab partners, remember? There's going to be countless amounts of work and projects that we're going to have to do together, so we should just exchange numbers now."

"Fine." She doesn't snap, but her tone's a little sharp. "Hand me your phone."

I hand it to her, and she enters her number.

"Cool, thanks," I say, and she nods.

Someone clears their throat beside us. I look over to see the guy Katniss was sitting with yesterday. Now that I think of it, he was on Cato's "team" during the scrimmage.

He looks down at me coolly, his gray eyes just as piercing as Katniss's. He has a bag slung over his shoulder and a hand in his pocket, practically radiating a macho need to make me feel like shit.

"See you later," Katniss mutters, and she quickly stands and leaves with the other guy.

So should I count this as progress or-?

I stand up and I'm about to walk away and get back to my friends, when suddenly Madge comes and throws her arms around my neck from behind, squeezing me like I'm a soldier returning from war.

"Sorry," she says, giggling as I nearly fall over by the surprise encounter. "Just thought I'd tell you cheerleading tryouts is over; Clove decided she'd pick the cheerleaders without even seeing their talent. Anyway, everyone's going out to get pizza. Wanna come with?"

"I don't know. I've got to get home," I say apologetically.

"Yeah, I figured," she says. "Your Mom, right?"

"Among all things, yeah," I say glumly.

She nods, and she thinks deeply and starts, "By the way, I saw you talking to Katniss."

I swear to God, my heart stops. "Oh...you did?" I say weakly.

Madge nods again.

"Well, she's cool," I say. "I was just getting to know her."

"Hey, I think it's cute," she offers. "I mean, didn't you have a huge crush on her in grade school?"

What? Did I? And how does Madge know?

"She's talked to me about it, though," she adds. "She's kind of uncomfortable about it."

It looks like the others have't told Madge about my bet. Is it because they think it's unfair towards my bet, or is it because they just don't like telling her things anymore?

"So...what?" I ask lamely.

Madge jumps off the bleachers so she's face-to-face with me, and she says, "Katniss is my friend, Peeta. I like you and I like her, but I need to know what your intentions are here."

I'm startled by this. "My intentions," I repeat.

Madge nods. "Yes, your intentions."

"I just...want to get to know her," I offer lamely. "I don't know what you mean."

Madge frowns, but I should mention that she looks like a little girl trying to look angry: too cute to be taken seriously. Madge then continues with, "Are you trying to get Katniss into bed or what?"

That makes me do a double take. "Uh, no!"

"You sure?" Madge asks, and when I see her grin, I realize she's joking.

"Hey," I protest weakly.

"You're a sweetheart, Peeta, honest," Madge further insists. "I just don't want to see Katniss get hurt about this, you know? I think it's cute how you're finally acting out on your crush and all, but you guys have changed. You have to consider that, too."

Uh-oh, she thinks I've been harboring a crush for Katniss since grade school.

"Don't worry about it, Madge," I assure her. "I won't hurt her."

Great, add lying to Madge to my list of reasons to feel guilty about this bet.

"Okay." She smiles on top of it all. "I actually think you guys would be cute together. And if you want, I can help you." She hands me a paper, and when I study it, I realize it's a flyer: a flyer for the homecoming dance next week.

"You want me to do something as forward as ask her to the homecoming dance?"

"Why not?" Madge says. "It would be a romantic gesture."

"But Katniss hates school events," I blurt out before I even realize what I'm saying. Somehow, my mind tells me that my sentence is true. Somehow, I can...remember this.

"I know," Madge says, "but you could be the one to change her mind. What do you say?"

I look down at the flyer, sigh, and say, "It's worth a try."

Those reviews were so sweet. Thank you! :)

Terry- I also wanted to adress your review. Thank you for your feedback! I promise, while the first chapters seem like fillers, there's definitely a plot. Every single part of this story will add up in the end.

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