A/N: Oh my god the response to this has been fantastic! Thank you everyone for your amazing feedback! I plan to update this story every Monday and if I ever miss an update I will post an explanation as to why on my profile. Thanks again! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Did I do the warnings last chapter? Oh well I'll do 'em again to be on the safe side. Warnings: Self-harm; eating disorders; bullying; underage sex and drinking; sexual violence; discrimination; homophobia; violence; mentions of suicide and death. High School and typos. Oh jeez, did I add more by accident? Sorry!

Chapter Two

"I can't help but point out that if Fatboy goes anorexic, it's going to be your fault."

I roll my eyes and stretch forward to touch my toes. The sun beats down on the football fields like a god trying to burn the ants beneath its feet. Sweat has already appeared on my brow and we haven't even started practicing yet. The warm ups are getting more and more tedious every year.

Clove watches me with folded arms, her feet shoulder width apart. She's never worried about things like trying to stand like a lady or behave properly, she just does what she likes and if people don't like it, then it's their problem. "Some things you just don't say," she says.

"Do you know how hypocritical you sound right now?" I challenge. "You call him Fatboy, just like the rest of us. Just like Mason is Polar Bear and Annie is Nuts. So what if he goes anorexic anyway? It's not my problem."

"Might do him some good." Glimmer lifts her arms behind her back and pulls, loosening the muscles in her arms.

"Just because vomiting up your food works for you, doesn't mean it works for everyone," says Clove. Glimmer flips her off but I can't help agreeing with Clove. Glimmer's body is only as thin as it now is because she throws up 85% of what she eats. Someday she's going to destroy the lining of her throat and Clove and I are going to have to deal with it.

"Why so defensive Clove? Don't tell me you have a soft spot for the nerds?" I tease. I squint up at Clove from where I sit on the grass, the sun behind her head like a halo.

"Of course not. I just don't want to have to be called into the Principals office to explain how you didn't really mean it when you told Mellark he was getting fat again and that you really didn't mean for him to go anorexic and that you were oh so sorry to hear that that had happened." Clove gives me a dull look. "I'm not that good a liar, Everdeen."

"It won't happen," I scoff. "Mellark doesn't care what I think, why should he stop eating just because one person-namely me, one of the people he probably hates the most-calls him flabby?"

"Whatever." Clove bends over to touch her toes, ignoring the cat calls she receives from the pervs in the stands. Urgh, Cheerleading should be a closed practice. Who studies in the stands anyway? I don't care how nice a day it is, go home to study! The field is a place of pleasure, not academic improvement!

"I wouldn't be surprised if Mellark lost the weight because he stopped eating," Glimmer says, almost to herself. "I mean, one summer? Come on, he was huge!"

"Who cares how he lost it? He's still a loser," I mutter. "He was a nerd then and he's a freak now. Who cares how much he weighs? Just one less thing to poke fun at. And even then it's debateable because we can't think of anything else other than 'fatboy' to call him."

"We could call him doughballs," says Clove. "Or baguette boy."

A chuckle tickles the back of my throat and I grin in amusement. "Or cupcakes."

We laugh at our own cleverness. I stand up and dust my skirt down. "Why are we even fixating on this? We need to get our shit together and practice!"

The squad practice for an hour and a half. I show them new moves I've been working on all summer and we all agree that it's in the team's best interests to include them in the routine at the next game. There's a slight glitch when I go over on my ankle and it screams for the rest of practice to be given a rest.

I'm cursed with a limp for the rest of the day. It's worse by the next day and I hobble around school like I've got a wooden leg. I take the biggest dosage of pills I can without endangering myself and keep a small orange bottle of painkillers in my blazer pocket to take whenever I can.

"You're walking like the Hunchback," Glimmer snickers.

"You try walking with a sprained ankle," I reply.

"I'd ask for a cast so I could bejazzle it," Glimmer replies.

Clove rolls her eyes. "And what a bloody sight that would be. You'd be able to see you coming from miles off. 'Watch out, here comes Glimmer!'"

"Hey Katniss!"

I stop in the middle of the corridor and turn slowly on my heel. A smile breaks out across my face as Gale jogs up to me and leans against the locker to our right. I turn to Glimmer and Clove and promptly give them a 'Kindly piss of' look. They raise their eyebrows but continue down the corridor, a witch-like cackle soon exploding from their little dual huddle.

"Hi Gale," I reply.

"I heard you hurt your ankle," says Gale. His eyes drift down me and fall on my ankle, which I have lifted off the floor so only the toes of my shoes rest against it. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I just went over on it yesterday at practice," I say, shrugging like it's no big deal.

Gale rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was just wondering . . . well . . . Madge can't go to Cashmere's house party because she's got to go back to Spain cuz' her parents are sick or something. So, I was just wondering if you were going with anyone."

I'm a little irked at the idea that Gale is only asking me out because Madge isn't around. I want to go to Cashmere's party with him-it's going to be one of the best nights of the year-but I don't want him to get me so easily. "I would," I say. "But I can't."

Gale's face falls. His self-assured attitude drops like a rock. "Why not?"

I frantically search my brain for something I can say to make me seem hard to get and cool. "I'm being stalked," I finally blurt out.

Gale quirks one of his perfect eyebrows at me. "What?"

"Yeah," I say, quickly playing it off now that it was out there. "I'm being stalked. I can't go outside because this kid has gotten this idea in his head that I'm his girlfriend and he won't leave me alone."

"Who is it? Does he go to this school?" asks Gale.

I comb my fingers through my hair and lean my back against the lockers, elevating my foot a little bit to ease the pressure. Name. Name. Name. Give him a name. Make up a name, even. Something that seems realistic. But then again my imagination has never been all that good . . . "It's Peeta Mellark," I finally say.

"Fatboy Mellark?" Gale asks.

"Yeah, him," I say, words rushing out now that I have a suitable story. "Remember I went to Loser's End yesterday at lunch? I was telling him to get the hell off my back before I call the cops. He hasn't listened though . . . Still thinks he's my boyfriend."

"God, that kid's a freak," Gale mutters.

I roll my eyes. "Tell me about it." The bell rings and I resist the urge to throw myself off a pit of despair at the realization that I must go to class and listen to Miss Paylor drone on about healthy eating in H.E. Keeping up with the hard to get act, I sigh and shrug. "See you around Gale."

"Yeah, I'll see you Katniss."

I turn my back on Gale without another word and hobble off to the H.E rooms. I can't help smiling. One step closer to having the hottest guy in school as my Prom date.

~IAJOT~

I've never set foot in the library before. Not even for Study Skills classes. Glimmer, Clove and I used to skive off and hide under the bleachers smoking cigarettes and complaining about boys. It's abnormally quiet and stinks of books. I limp into the room and instantly feel like an anomaly. Everyone in the damn place is clearly a swot. They're all hunched over books and writing as if they're never going to write again. I swear, their pens are scratching so fast I'm surprised they're not creating smoke.

Mellark is at the back of the room. Just like the little nerd that he is, he is bent over a book, a hand held out beside his face as if to shield it away from the rest of the world.

"I swear to God Mellark, if I don't pass I'm going to tell Cato to aim the football at your head at the homecoming game," I say, dumping my satchel beside the table and sitting across from him. Mellark doesn't look up. "Because if I have to give up my afternoons then it better be worth it. You know I'm missing an hour of Cheerleading for this?"

"Such a tragedy," Mellark mutters into the pages of his book.

"Will you look at me?" I snap. "For God's sake, if you're going to tutor me then you need to stop making out with that book." Mellark reluctantly looks at me. His hair falls away from his face, revealing a huge black welt sitting under his eye. I can't control the laughter that explodes from me at the sight. "What happened your face?!"

"Gale seems to have gotten the idea that I'm a perverted stalker who thinks I'm your boyfriend," Mellark says.

I bite my lip. Oops.

"You would haven't any idea about that, would you?" asks Mellark.

"Me? What would I know about it?" I scoff.

"Well, you are the person he thinks I'm . . . stalking." Mellark says this as if the idea of stalking me in particular is ridiculous. I know I made it up but it could still be extremely feasible! Who knows what an unstable freak like Mellark or one of his friends could be capable of!

"Oh boo-hoo," I say. "Grow a pair, it's just a bruise."

Mellark rolls his eyes and pushes his hair back when it tries to fall over his eyes again. "Are you going to actually focus today or are you going to keep being a laborious hooligan?"

"I only understand half of those words but I don't like the sound of the rest," I snap. This guy is already getting on my nerves. I can't stand five minutes with him, how am I supposed to spend five days a week with him?! "Don't you dare to talk to me like that you . . . you . . . nerd!"

"Ooooh, burn," Mellark mutters sarcastically. He tosses me a pencil and sighs. "What do you know about algebra?"

"I don't know anything about any girl called Alge and I certainly don't know nothing about her bra. God, are you really that much of a pervert?" I ask, disgusted.

Mellark groans and rubs his temples. "This is going to be hard."

"Well Jesus, if you're finding it hard then there's no hope for me," I say.

"Katniss, please, I don't like this as much as you do." Mellark looks at me seriously. His eyes are shockingly blue. Whoa, that's . . . that's almost inhuman. Ew. "But if you want to pass and if I want Haymitch off my back-if I do-then we're going to have to compromise with each other. Work together to get the same result."

"Teamwork," I scoff. "With you? The only team I work on is the Squad. Anything other than that is not worth thinking about. You're nothing to me, Mellark. Understand? I just want to pass math."

Mellark pushes his glasses up his nose, the frames obscuring the bruise a little. "Glad we're on the same page," he says.

I cluck my tongue and look at the clock. "Can I leave now?"

"It's been ten minutes," Mellark says flatly.

"Isn't this an orientation or something?" I ask.

Mellark rolls his hybrid eyes but nods. "Fine. Whatever. Go. But we're spending the whole hour tomorrow whether you like it or not."

I chuck the pencil back at him and stand up. "Whatever you say cupcakes."

Ms. Trinket gives me a week off Cheerleading until my ankle heals. I'm bothered by this but I know it's in my best interests as I can't perform my very best unless I'm on top form. That's how I end up standing in my bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror with my orange painkiller bottle clutched in my hand. I must heal my ankle. If it doesn't heal as quickly as possible then I can't cheer. And I need to cheer. My cheering is my reputation.

The water in my sink is running, the water splattering the porcelain and splashing over the edges. I'm not washing or anything, I just find the sound of running water very relaxing. I look at my reflection and scowl at myself. God, I'm a mess. I pop the lid on the painkiller bottle and pull one out, slipping it into my mouth and swallowing it whole. I'm about to secure the lid back on top of the bottle when it happens.

My ankle spasms and my leg goes out from under me. Pills fly out of the bottle as I fall and my scream echoes in the large bathroom like the screech of a banshee. My head smacks against the floor and my vision slides out of focus. I blink rapidly as pain blossoms at the back of my head. The agony pushes through into my skull and seizes my brain.

The last thing I remember before I black out is the sound of running water.

A/N: Please review, I love your feedback! :)