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Chapter Text

Adora woke up on the worst day of her life craving scrambled eggs. 

She opened her eyes to the smell of cooking coming from downstairs, the soft sound of mum’s favourite radio channel and the dog barking outside. She sighed into her pillow, and fell back into a dream of buttered toast, soft eggs and a tall glass of apple juice. 

When she mustered the will to leave the warmth of her bed and make the journey down to the kitchen, a bowl of porridge was waiting for her. The slight crust on top of it taunted her. 

Her mum was already dressed for work, washing up and gently swaying to the tune of their old stereo. Adam was perched on the chair at the head of the table, bowl empty. He was holding a slice of apple too high for the dog to reach. 

“Ah, there she is! I was about to send Adam to drag you out of bed!” her mum exclaimed, once the last note sounded out of the radio. She turned to her, Adora still standing half asleep in front of a bowl of plain porridge . 

“Ugh, that wouldn’t have been funny at all! Right, Swiftie?” Adam chuckled. He finally let the apple fall out of his hand right into Swift Wind’s open mouth. He ruffled the fur at the top of his head and gave her a mocking smirk that she would’ve returned any other day. Not today, though. 

No. Today she scowled at him and slumped in her chair with a scoff. As she ate her breakfast in silence, she saw the questioning look he shared with their mum. Their gaze hung heavy on her shoulders, hunching her down onto the kitchen table. The oatmeal stuck to her gums. The open tub of cinnamon made her nose itch. She barely registered a low murmur coming from her mum, something about getting up on the wrong side of the bed. 

She’d gotten up on the usual side, Adora thought. She just wanted scrambled eggs. 

___________________________________

“And then he abandons his flying demon baby before getting kidnapped by an evil alien god, isn’t that crazy?” Adam finished his story as they reached the third floor. She had heard endless recountings of the same tale, with each slightest change. He had been adding different plot points here and there, changing a character’s flaw just to eat back his words. It had been their morning routine for over a year now. Adora had stopped paying attention two flights of stairs earlier than usual, “Yeah, crazy.” 

The hallway was already full of chatting students, morning drowsiness painted on every other face. One pair of tired eyes belonged to Adora, the dark light of that cloudy day making them appear greyer than usual. The white cast of the ceiling lights gave everyone’s uniforms a particular pop of dullness. Seeing how the humidity had made Adam’s hair frizz up, Adora smoothed the top of her head. She did not need a bad hair day on top of a bad everything day. 

The squeaky steps of students walking to roll call made Adora wish she had slept in for a couple more hours. The mist in the air had condensed around her, and now a throbbing pain pulled at the clasp of her ponytail. She wanted to will her legs out of there, urge them to run home and hide in the warmth of her winter pjs.

 And then, in that sea of blue jumpers and sleepy eyes, she heard a laugh. A high pitched cackle that had been haunting her for the last two weeks. Catra rounded the corner, and Adora forgot how to breathe.

Since they’d gotten back home from that museum trip, Adora had spent half of her time thinking about Catra, and the other half convincing herself it was absolutely normal and friendly behaviour on her part.

Maybe she’d visited – not stalked! – Catra’s instagram profile every other day, and maybe she had spent a weekend sitting cross-legged in the dust of the attic, rummaging through cardboard boxes with her name scribbled on them in thick black ink. She went through each diary and photo album looking for childhood pictures of them. So what! Sure, Catra wasn’t exactly talking to her, but that didn’t matter. Adora had woken up everyday hopeful that she would. Hopeful that it hadn’t just been a one day reunion. Being friends again hadn’t crossed her mind before, but it was now an all-consuming thought she had lost control of. Catra hadn’t returned her SD Card yet. Adora was waiting like an old dog up for adoption, heart dropping whenever Catra walked by her crate. 

As she turned the corner, Catra’s head turned towards her. Her face tilted to the side, as she smiled a smile left unfinished from whatever joke Scorpia had told. When she was finally close enough, she held her hand up, waved, and said: 

“Hey Adam.” 

“Morning, Catra,” Adam greeted back, a typical playful smirk stamped on his face. As much as it pained to admit, Adora had never been a match to Adam’s popularity. He always stood an inch taller, shoulders straight and eyes awake. There wasn’t a girl in school who hadn’t had a crush on him, and there wasn’t a guy who hadn’t tried to be his friend. It was an effortless task being overlooked, when standing next to him. Adora was used to it. 

So, she didn’t find it particularly odd that Catra and Scorpia had simply walked on, not looking back or waving goodbye. 

It still stung like a bitch.

Once they were out of reach, she questioned Adam, “Do you talk to her?” 

“Yeah, we’re in almost every class together this year,” he explained. “Didn’t you guys used to be friends? Is there any drama I need to be aware of?” 

“No, I guess not.” 

He kept his eyes on Catra as she reached the end of the corridor, and sighed. “Okay good, I really like her.” 

Adora almost threw up her breakfast porridge. 

“No!” she yelped, cheeks turning red once she realised how loud it’d come out. “You can’t like her.” 

“Not like that, you freak!” He gave her a shove and rolled his eyes, “I just think she’s cool.” 

Despite Adam’s reassurance, her face still felt hot. She didn’t know why, but the idea had sprung in her the same childish rage of fighting over ownership of an old toy. 

“Even if,” Adam started, “it’s not like she would be into me, like ever.” 

“Wait, why?” She frowned at the finality of his words, as if he couldn’t charm his way into the heart of any girl he pleased. 

He looked at her, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, like the answer was common knowledge she’d missed in Catra D’riluth 101. Maybe he saw it, the wild hope in her eyes. He seemed to know the question even she wasn’t sure she was asking. 

Obviously, he decided to be a dickhead about it. 

“You know what, you’re always telling me to stay out of your business. This time, I’m not getting involved,” he said, shrugged and strode away from her. 

“No, no, no. Adam! Get involved!” She tried, but it was no use. He had reached the end of the corridor, calling after Catra.

Her soft curls bouncing as she turned her head, she waited for him with a smile on her face. Adora wondered if she had ever smiled at her the same. She must’ve, right? Adora hadn’t made up that whole school trip in her mind, the way they’d laughed and poked at each other like they were kids again. It hadn’t just been a delusion she’d woken up to that morning. 

Right? 

Before she could start deconstructing the existentialism of feeble memories, the bell she was standing under rang the five minutes warning. She groaned, mentally added it to today’s everything bad and awful list , and made the short walk to roll call. 

It doesn’t matter anyway , she thought to herself. Catra had to give her the SD Card at some point. She’d talk to her then.

___________________________________

By lunch, both her headache and the weather had gotten much worse. Most students were crowded in the cafeteria. More reasonable people than them would probably be somewhere drier than the courtyard, but Glimmer had insisted on sitting at their usual spot. 

The wooden bench felt damp under her trousers, and her hands had started to go numb. She fumbled with the laces of her jumper, tightening it and loosening around her head to pass the time.

Glimmer was speaking. Adora was finding it hard to not zone out. 

“... and your birthday is on a saturday, which is perfect! So many more options to– Adora, are you listening?” Glimmer snapped her fingers in front of Adora’s face. She hummed, and tried her best to look awake. 

“So? Do you have any ideas?” Glimmer asked. 

“About what?” 

“Your birthday!” 

Adora shrugged and pressed on the spot at the base of her skull, where the pain had now made itself at home. “It’s ages away.” 

“It’s in a month!” Glimmer protested. 

“Exactly.” 

“We need to start planning!” 

“Do we?” She asked, sighing into her hands. She didn’t understand the rush, and she was too cold to even want to try. Ever since Adora and Adam had convinced their mum that it was really not necessary to keep up the ‘twins celebration’, Glimmer had always been involved in the birthday planning.

Adora had never really minded, Glimmer was the social butterfly of the group. She had brought them together, after all. But she could get really frustrated if the others didn’t match her energy. And Adora could get really frustrated when Glimmer got frustrated about that. A lot of frustration parties had been thrown over the years. 

“Yes, we do!” Glimmer insisted. 

Fortunately, Bow arrived just in time to fan out that flame.

“I did it!” He said, showing off a sheet of paper in his hands. “I finally got them to change the name on my timetable.” 

Glimmer cheered for him and kissed him hard on the cheek as he sat next to her. “Did they tell you why it keeps happening?” 

He took his lunch box out of his backpack and explained, “I talked to this new guy – very nice guy by the way – and I mentioned they’ve used my deadname on every timetable for the past four semesters. So he checked, and apparently no one has ever changed it in the system.”

“Seriously?” Adora gasped. 

“I’m going to kill them,” Glimmer snapped, her usual ferocity overwhelming the calmness Bow had brought with him. Adora was cautious enough to close her eyes before rolling them. She took a long, freezing breath, and willed herself to calm down. 

“It’s okay, he said it’ll get done by the end of the day,” Bow reassured her. 

“I haven’t looked at mine since we got it,” Glimmer tore the paper off Bow’s hands, just to lean into him again. “Ohh, we have chemistry first period. That’s good, it’s close to roll call.” 

“I thought you were dropping chemistry,” Adora questioned her, straightening up to grab her own timetable from her backpack. She’d shoved it in the laptop pocket the day she had got it, without reason to read through it yet. The way Glimmer’s head hung low was all Adora needed. She knew her best friend like the back of her hand, she could recognise the guilty markings of her secrets better than anyone else. 

“I– I was. It’s just…” She trailed off, eyes darting from the table to her hands to Bow again. It’s just the only subject they have together , Adora finished the sentence for herself.

Adora was happy for Bow and Glimmer. After drawn-out years of longing, she had been ready for them to finally cut through that ‘best friends to lovers’ tension that had plagued them since middle school. What she had not been ready for was their incessant need to spend every breathing second with each other. 

“You told me to drop Maths, so we could have a free period together,” Adora reminded her. They had discussed it at that same table, over a month ago, when both the weather and Adora had been less gloomy.

“I know, but we still can. You haven’t dropped it yet,” Glimmer pulled her phone out, finding a picture she had taken of her own timetable. “I could drop English.” 

“I have Geography, I can’t drop that,” Adora said. It was her one subject required to get accepted into the Geology degree she had set her mind to. 

“Okay, well–” a low quivering hum simmered in the back of Glimmer’s throat. “I could do French and you could do physics. You only need one science for Eternia, anyway.” 

“But I like physics.” 

“Who even likes physics?!”

“Ughhh, why are we sitting in the cold?” Mermista groaned as she slumped her backpack on the table and settled herself on her usual spot, next to Adora. Their new friend Perfuma, on the other side, took the seat next to Glimmer. She gave Adora a shy smile.

“I think it’s nice to be out in nature, no matter the weather. It’s refreshing, don’t you think, Adora?” Perfuma was the type of person that asked you a question, and looked straight into your soul until you gave an answer. In her words, it was meant to make people feel listened to and appreciated. Adora felt locked in an interrogation room, being sentenced for a crime she didn’t remember committing. It did not help that the whole group would also cease whatever they were doing to join in the torture. 

“Yeah, so refreshing,” she muttered. Everyone went back to not staring at her, and she went back to her sulking. Around her, different conversations merged and split and blended together for a while. Holiday plans, celebrity drama, grades–

“Ugh, I got a C on that Gallery Report!” Glimmer whined, when the notification popped up on her phone. “Apparently ‘800 words about the external architecture wasn’t the point of the assignment’, according to Aunt Casta.”

“Weren’t you meant to write about accessibility and the floor layouts?” Adora asked. 

“How do you even know that?” 

Adora shrugged, “Catra told me.” 

Glimmer let out a scoff, “Ugh, I bet she got another A. It’s so unfair!”

“How is it unfair that she answered the essay question?” Adora asked, all eyes on her once again. She thought being part of a fairly popular school soccer team would accustom her to being scrutinised. And yet, she sat surrounded by her best friends, wishing she could crawl out of her skin. 

“Because Aunt Casta is in love with her or something! She’s her favourite!” Glimmer insisted, “Apparently she’s the reason they changed the whole trip. We would’ve gone to Salineas if she hadn’t been a brat about it.” 

“I would’ve come to Salineas.” Mermista said, a tinge of uninterest in her voice. 

“See?” Glimmer pointed out, as if that would prove her point.

Adora shook her head, “I don’t think she was being a brat, she just asked them.”  

Glimmer glared, lips parted to speak, nothing but air coming out. She frowned, and in her brown eyes Adora thought she could see a hint of another one of her secrets, permeated with anything but guilt.

“I can’t believe you’re actually defending her,” Glimmer scoffed. Of course, of course that was all it was about. A stupid grudge she wouldn’t let go of. All the hope of reuniting with Catra would slip away from her fingers, because what Glimmer says, goes. 

“I just don’t think it’s her fault you got a bad grade!” The throbbing pain in her head made her wince.

Glimmer’s raised voice had made a spectacle for the blurry figures in blue uniforms scattered around the courtyard. She spat out, “Why are you being so difficult today?!” 

Adora’s breath itched. She felt the freezing air on her eyes as they widened. In the span of a second, her world seemed to move from slow motion to a movie at double speed that she couldn’t keep up with. Her heart was beating with rage, taking all that had bothered her today – her alarm ringing too loud, the dog barking at nothing in the garden, the horrible weather, and the scrambled eggs she had dreamt of and couldn’t have – and turned it into overwhelmingly hot fuel. 

She stared at her, it could’ve been a second or an hour, she didn't know. Her surroundings closed in on them, her peripheral vision turning black. And it was just them. Adora staring at Glimmer. Glimmer staring at Adora. Until her best friend’s face shifted into nothingness, a skin coloured shape with a pink smudge on top. 

Adora blinked and the world was back in focus, moving at the right pace. That pool of anger in her chest drowned every thought she might’ve had, any argument to defend herself. Despite her headache, she found she could still stand on her feet. “ Fuck off, ” she said flatly.

She didn’t wait for a reaction. She grabbed her backpack and walked away. 

___________________________________

The library smelled like cardboard boxes and everyone’s packed lunch. She walked through the mix of odours, genres and authors. After a last shelf with an ‘A-C’ plastic sign badly taped on it, she finally saw him. 

Adam was on the top floor. Books and notes were scattered all over his corner of the table, abandoned in favour of his lunchbox. Next to him, his friend Lonnie was scrolling aimlessly through her phone, a pair of earphones dangled between them. 

“Look who finally decided to join us!” He clasped his hands, not having to abide by the silent rule during lunch break. “Did the cold make you cave in?” 

“Nope. Glimmer did.” She plopped herself on the chair in front of him, not bothering to take her backpack off her shoulders. 

The breath she exhaled then trembled in the back of her throat. Between each long stride to the library, she’d promised herself not to cry. Yet, the watery weight of tears threatened to fall on the brave face she’d put up. 

She needed to let the anger out, and so she told them everything. 

How things had changed since Glimmer and Bow had gotten together. How they’d started leaving her out, how their inside jokes had begun to fall flat. She gave vent to moments she hadn’t even realised had bothered her until she’d stormed off the courtyard without looking back.

Halfway through her rant, she found that Lonnie was a much more invested listener than Adam. 

He interrupted her for the fifth time, “Why is it that when I say we’re both doing Maths, I have to specify you’re in Advanced Maths, but you don’t?”  

“Because when I’m trying to be Grandma’s favourite, it matters in the context!” Adora protested, “Will you let me talk now?” 

“Only if you let me have the apple you didn’t eat.” 

“Fine,” she searched her bag for it and handed it over, before going back to her story.

When she was finished, she slumped back against her chair and sighed into her hands. Regret started clouding up her mind. Maybe she had been too harsh with Glimmer–

“She deserved it,” said Lonnie. She’d been engaging with the story with scoffs and nods and various eyerolls. “Honestly, I would drop her if I were you. She's a walking red flag.” 

Adam hummed in agreement, mouth full of apple. 

“Is she?” 

“Yes!” They said in unison, eyes wide open. 

Lonnie started, “Adora, no offence, but your friends can be really–”

“Horrid! Traumatising to deal with, even.” Adam interrupted again, staring vacantly, like a war flashback was playing behind his eyes.

“I was going to say bitchy, but yes,” Lonnie added, “Especially Glimmer. From how I see it, she’s a pretentious daddy’s girl who thinks she can get away with anything.” 

“Take Catra, for example, and that stupid feud they have,” she pointed to the empty seat next to Adora, where a black backpack had been left open on the chair, and a pair of bulky red headphones sat on top of a familiar looking notebook. “I’m not saying that making fun of her name is the most mature thing to do, but it’s nothing compared to what comes out of Glimmer’s mouth sometimes. I’ve heard her call her ‘scum’ too many times for my liking.” 

Adora listened, her headache making it hard to think for herself. The angel and demon on her shoulders were arguing about her best friend’s morality, but she wasn’t sure who was on which side anymore. Only one thing was pressing her to keep up. 

“Catra’s here?”

 She ignored Adam’s obvious eyeroll. 

“Yeah, she went looking for a book for her art project like, half an hour ago,” Lonnie explained, before losing interest in the conversation and going back to her lunch. 

“Must not be easy to find,” Adora mumbled.  

“It wouldn’t be Catra's project if it was, ” they chuckled. Adora knew how determined Catra could be. Once, when they’d been ten or eleven, Catra had led her down to the river to look for a rock she’d seen the day before. They spent that summer afternoon hunched over the slippery stones of the river bank, barely speaking to one another. Catra’s face had bunched up in frustration, and she had begun passing all the wrong rocks for Adora to skip in the water. When she finally found it, just before dusk could settle, Adora thought she’d never sounded happier. 

“Speak of the devil!” Adam announced at full volume, and Catra’s laugh resounded from the other side of the room. The same, childlike laugh Adora remembered. Her uniform was perfectly tailored –with what seemed to be mumlike precision– to compensate for the paint splatters on most of her clothes. She was holding up a large, hardcover book. One of those longer-than-larger coffee table books that no one has ever actually opened. Adora managed to read half the title, “...letters from 1969” , before it disappeared in her backpack. Adora wondered if she always held artbooks with such jealousy. 

“You found it!” Adam cheered. Then Lonnie cheered. Catra cheered. And Adora breathed through her nose slightly louder than normal. 

“Some first year’s had it overdue for weeks,” she said as she packed her notebooks away. “And he was impossible to find–”

“Wait, did you just hunt down a poor boy for that book?” Adam asked. 

“Yes,” Catra shrugged. “Why do you think I took so long?!”

Adam smirked, “I don’t know. Making out with the new hot librarian, maybe?” 

“Jealous?”

“Someone is,” Adam wiggled his eyebrows with a smug look on his face. Catra rolled her eyes. Adora was burning brain cells trying to understand what they meant. 

Catra’s headphones were around her neck before she had a chance to figure it out. 
“Are you going to class?” Lonnie asked. 

“No, I’m seeing Ms Casta in her office.”

“I’ll walk with you,” she stood up, leaving her bag half packed and carrying her book and notes under her arm. 

Adam pouted, “You’re leaving me all alone?” 

“You’re big and strong, I think you’ll manage,” Lonnie laughed. As she turned to wave goodbye, her eyes fixed on Adam, suddenly the impression of her smile softened. And then she winked at him. Adora must have been frowning, because Lonnie seemed to be reminded that she was, in fact, his sister. It wasn’t meant to be a threatening glare. It is simply an unspoken rule between siblings that any type of romance is, and always will be, irrevocably cringe. Adora would probably fake vomit at the altar if he dared to look at her. 

Adam didn’t seem unsettled, and called after them, “Bye! Bye Catra!” 

And just like that morning, Catra turned back with a grin on her face, “Bye Adam.” 

Adora raised her hand to wave, but by then both girls were facing away. She scratched the back of her head, trying her best to make it look intentional. 

“You’re pathetic,” Adam said. 

“Shut up!” 

As Catra and Lonnie reached the door arm in arm, Adora could see them whispering to each other.  “Do you think Lonnie’s going to tell her about what I said?” The idea of Catra being in on her friendship drama sent a shiver down her spine, and she suddenly worried at how whiny she must have sounded. 

“Mh?” Adam looked up, following her eyes. “Oh, yeah, definitely.” 

She tried to blink the headache away, to not let it take her vision completely. The one thing she had been holding on for, she had just let it walk away without speaking a word. “Ugh,” she sighed into her hands. Her face felt hot to the touch.

“Look, it’s fine. They’re not going to snitch or anything,” he tried to reassure her. His voice felt distant, like he wasn’t tremendously sure of his words. As well as having his whole face buried in his backpack, looking for an old cereal bar that had surely been laying at the bottom of it for a couple of weeks. 

“It’s not that. I was meant to ask Catra about the SD Card,” she said, putting pressure on her temples to ease the pain. 

“What SD Card?” Adam asked. He was inspecting the bar, head crooked in slight disgust. He offered it to her, before deciding it was the wrong day to poison his sister, and threw it in the bin.
“I lent her an SD Card the day of the trip,” she tried to explain. 

“Oh that? She gave it back to me last week,” he shrugged. 

Adora felt like a two week old cereal bar.

___________________________________

“Can you at least come down for breakfast?” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

Adora was starving. She had been woken up by the worst fit of cramps she’d ever had. She had lay in her own sweat until the sunrise, when the pain had become familiar enough to navigate her room for painkillers. The breakfast appetite had set in a while ago, now living alongside the ache. But Adora couldn't go down yet. Breakfast now meant listening to other chewing mouths, spoons clinking against ceramic, and morning conversations. Most of all, there was the inevitable and devastating chance of someone touching her. So she let herself starve. 

“I’m not hungry. Go away!” She hid her head under the white pillow and yanked the duvet over it. Then, she curled herself into her new nest before her feet could get cold. Mum switched off the big light, the door screeched but didn’t bolt shut. The darkness became unsettling. 

Outside voices came through like a draft. Adam said, “What’s wrong with her?” 

Mum said, “She says she’s not going to school. She can’t not go.” 

Adam said, “It’s the last couple of days before the holidays, we won’t be doing anything important.”

Mum said, “It’s still school. What about her attendance?” 

Adam said, “Stop being so traditional.” 

Mum said, “Stop being so modern,” and floundered down the stairs. 

Adam didn’t knock, because he never knocked. “So, should I tell people it's food poisoning? Or the flu?” 

“Tell them I’m dead,” she muttered, her voice muffled.

“Do you know the statistics of grieving twins? I can’t fake being that sad about you.”

She emerged from the safety of her duvet to glare at him. His lip curled in concern

“What about chickenpox? Have you had chickenpox?” He asked, striving swiftly away from humour.

It made her want to apologise. Adam’s face was a carbon copy of hers, only with bushier eyebrows. When his eyes darkened with worry, Adora would recognise it all too well. Whatever turmoil he held would be picked up and twisted in Adora’s chest. It was, unfortunately, a twin thing. 

“Yes, she has,” her mum barged back in before Adora could mouth the word ‘sorry’, a pile of fresh laundry under her arm and a fun-sized hot water bottle in her hands. “Adam, do not tell the school Adora has chickenpox, there’s a church event on Sunday and I don’t want any dirty looks. Now– Adora, get some rest. You, get your shoes on, it’s time to go.” 

Adora was handed the hot water bottle. Mum and Adam bickered out of the room, and she was finally on her own again. 

She let the morning take its time, taking slow breaths and only wandering downstairs when her stomach grumbles started to sound like a cry for help. 

The kitchen was drowning in yellow light, sun shining through the sliding glass door.

That morning had offered a break from the biting cold of December, and the warmth had broken through the clouds to land like a gentle hand on Adora’s face. When he saw her, Swift Wind skipped to the back door, wagging his tail and waiting to be let outside. 

She took a bowl and spoon, decided on the daily cereal – the most chocolatey ones mum allowed them to buy – and the last apple in the fruit basket. Swiftie ran out to the back garden before she could slide the door halfway open. The porch felt wet to the touch, the way wood always does in winter.

She willed herself to think of nothing. And started thinking about Catra.

Catra had never seen this garden. She hadn’t met Swift Wind, she’d never slept in her bedroom. Adora hadn’t stopped in her tracks, wondering if Catra would care, if Catra would like it. 

Her mind went back to the church on Rune Street, and the empty field they used to spend days playing in. That hill had seen them in every shade of childhood. It had scraped their knees and watched over them while they recovered. As time had brought the first fights with their parents, the grass had dried their tears. The hill had pried into the privacy of their innocence, and watched their friendship fall out of their hands. It caught the roots of it in its soil. Adora had never gone back. Her parents started attending a different church, closer to the new house. It had a parking lot, instead of grass. She’d stopped praying after a year. 

She didn’t understand it then. She didn’t pretend to completely understand it now. Time had mostly pieced it together for her. Her mum’s friends talking about Catra’s dad leaving, and all the taunting words they had used. She knew – if vaguely – that something bad had happened. That’s about all she had figured out, but it had seemed enough for her at the time. She didn’t know how long she had sat with her sadness. Days, weeks. The sadness had turned into sour guilt. There was a new big bright house to live in, and new friends to laugh with. And things were fine , really. So she had put the sad feelings on the sideline, and went on with her life.

She got used to her heart twitching whenever they bumped into each other, a come-again reaction of the last time they spoke. 

But ever since the trip, ever since she’d heard Catra’s laugh again, there was a pull in her chest drawing her to it. Spending time with Catra again didn’t bring back the pain of the fight. It felt like a summer day on the hill, when they’d run all the way down and fall back at the base, as the air filled up her lungs and euphoria pumped into her veins. She’d felt the wind knocked out of her when she’d spot a pair of red headphones in the crowd. Maybe that was what nostalgia felt like. 

And yet, Catra had not given her the time of day, she’d heard more of her through Glimmer’s vaguely hostile recounting of their art periods. The thought made her shudder. Glimmer was the last person she wanted to think about. She called Swift Wind back, threw her bowl in the sink and climbed the stairs idly back to her room. 

___________________________________

LIST OF REASONS CATRA HATES ME 

• shes still not over me moving (unlikely but she is a scorpio)
• she hates my friends apparently so does everyone 
• is it bc im gay? 
• IS IT BECAUSE IM GAY???
• im gay and shes homophobic im pretty sure lonnie is bi? 
• shes gay and she thinks im homophobic 
• is she even gay??? (ASK ADAM) she does look gay but ive been wrong before

Adora put her pen down and stared at the page, the words slashed out in blue ink. The snow falling outside her window was the only witness to Adora’s deep, long sighs. She listened to the generic Christmas music playing from the movie downstairs, which she had refused to sit through despite her parents’ plead. Adam had opted out too, and Adora knew they secretly enjoyed movie nights by themselves. 

So, she sat in her room alone on the first day of holidays, writing about a girl who clearly couldn't care less about her. She knew it was pathetic, but she couldn’t get Catra out of head. 

She was losing herself into the lines of the paper. The idea of anyone thinking Adora could be homophobic seemed absurd. She had been out for years. She was on the soccer team! Everyone knew she was gay. Besides, wouldn’t Catra have questioned Adam about it? 

Or maybe she wouldn’t have. Maybe she had no idea. Adora hadn’t questioned anyone about her , after all.  For hanging out with people who gossiped about any breathing human, Adora seemed to have assimilated no useful information about Catra for years. She had been racking her brain for any conversation that might have left an impression. Nothing. Not a single dating rumour, no memory of something other than the new nickname she’d taunted Glimmer with that day. Catra hadn’t mentioned anything either, during the trip. They talked and laughed with each other for hours. They got stuck in an elevator together and all Adora had learned about Catra is a vague career prospect. 

Maybe Adora was a bad listener. Maybe that was why Catra hated her and everyone hated her and she would die alone at her desk while the rest of the world talked about all the reasons they all hated her. 

The Christmas music growing louder silenced the thought for half a second. She slammed her diary closed. 

Adam glared at her from the bedroom door. He had insisted on wearing their matching festive pyjamas early this year, in a not-so-subtle attempt to cheer her up. So, he stood at her doorway wearing elf-print green pants, watching her as if he was accusing her of murder. 

“What were you doing?” 

“Nothing,” she resisted, “what do you want?”

“Do you need the car tomorrow night?” he asked. They shared a used, bright red Mini Cooper that their parents invested in when they both – surprisingly – got their licence on their first try. The other option involved two beat-up Sedans that had been probably manufactured before the wheel itself was invented. And since Adam left the DMV sweating and swearing he’d only drive again if someone was on the verge of death, they worked it out with one, nicer car instead. 

“Why?” she asked, curiously. 

“I’m sleeping over at Kyle’s.” 

“Kyle lives around the corner,” she protested. 

“We just want to go for a drive,” he insisted. “Do you need the car or not?” 

It wasn’t like Adam to lose his patience, but she saw the pot stirring itself up in front of her. “I don’t. But don’t let Kyle drive, I saw the state of his bike.” 

“Yeah, oka–”

The door cut off the end of the word, as Adam shut it behind him. Adora wished he had stayed. She pondered barging in his room the way he always did with her, and launching every question she had at his face, refusing to leave until he’d given her every minute detail. Or just sit on his bed and watch him draw, or play video games. Maybe steal one of his vintage comic books and pretend to rip a page just to see his reaction. But Adam’s head was clearly somewhere else, and as lonely as Adora felt, she knew Adam wanted to be alone. 

With another long sigh, her forehead met the faux leather cover of her diary. She studied the teal cracks in the material, each one branching out toward another, intersecting and separating again. She was certain Glimmer would know the answer, but she couldn’t ask her. They hadn’t talked in days, since Adora had stormed off at lunch. Bow had texted the groupchat, pretending that nothing had happened, but Glimmer had replied with passive one word messages, and Adora had followed suit. Texting her out of the blue with questions about her archnemesis’ love life wouldn’t bode very well. 

Ding. Her phone chimed from its charging spot on her bedside table. Her body reacted faster than her brain, and she found herself half-mindedly on her feet when another ding sounded out. She had a wild hope that it'd be Catra texting her. She could’ve asked Adam for her number. Maybe the Christmas spirit had shown her the value of friendship and made her want to reconcile. 

It wasn’t Catra. It wasn’t even Glimmer or Bow. She tapped on the notification and read under her breath. 

Perfuma 🌸

hi! i noticed you weren’t in school the last couple of days is everything okay?
i heard you had a cold or the flu? i recommend a nice mug of ginger tea,
it always helps me feel better! i hope you feel better soon x

no pressure to reply or anything x

You

hey yeah i wasnt feeling well. thanks will do x

Perfuma 🌸

if youre feeling better maybe we could hang out? my parents are selling 

poinsettias at the christmas markets in town if you want to come by x 

You

oh sorry were having christmas at my grandmas

 so probably wont have time x

Perfuma 🌸

maybe after christmas? if not ill see you at the new years party right? 

You

were having nye with family friends this year sorry

 thought i mentioned it. ill def see u at school tho! x

Perfuma 🌸

yeah see you at school! have the best holidays adora xx 

Since she had joined the friend group that summer, Perfuma had always been vaguely awkward with her. Adora didn't know what to do with awkward . She’d tried breaking the ice, asking her about the various crystals she brought with her everywhere. 

Once, Adora had said she liked the rose quartz pendant she wore around her neck. Perfuma said it was the stone of universal love. Adora said that was nice. That had been the longest conversation they’d had, up until the current texts.

Adora wanted to claw her brain out of her head. They wouldn’t leave for her grandma’s for at least a couple of days, and she’d have all the free time to hang out. Every bone in her body was aching to socialise, and she still made some dumb excuse to stay home, and told herself that she’d only bring Perfuma’s evergreen positivity down too. She let herself fall face-first on the bed and groaned her worries out into her pillow. 

She didn’t end up seeing anyone but her family for the rest of the holidays. She’d spend most days locked in her room, only going down for food and to walk the dog. Her only distraction had involved reading the University of Eternia website over and over, until the blue light of the screen started to hurt her eyes. There had been nothing quite as motivating as Christmas loneliness to force her university personal statement out of her head and onto the page. Days like this flew by fast, as she watched the snow fall and the sky darken from the comfort of her desk chair. And yet, the last night of the year had dragged on so long, Adora had started yawning hours before midnight. 

She sat on a green velvet sofa in her parents’ friends’ living room, pretending not to hear the clock tick by. Watching a boiling pot and all that. The large screen hanging from the wall was playing some made-for-tv holiday movie that she and Adam were using as background noise. 

Her instagram feed was overflowing with new years’ parties and vacation selfies. Somehow, through comments and likes, she found herself on Catra’s profile again. It hadn’t changed much over the last couple of weeks. It was mostly her sketches and infinite pictures of a fluffy brown cat. Adora guessed she had adopted it recently, but didn’t know its name, since Catra had made the artistic choice to not caption any of her posts. Only the most recent pictures had been graced with a single emoji each. 

She had posted a selfie, back when the town had seen the first day of snow, with snowflakes caught in her curls. Adora had stared at the speck of blue in the corner of Catra’s left eye so long that it had begun to burn her phone screen. The most recent picture showed Catra and her mum in their front garden, a screenshot of them dancing in the snow. Everything about it looked peaceful. The warm porchlight shone on their figures, and in the contrast of the white-covered ground they were made of shadow. Adora could almost hear the quiet of that neighbourhood, only broken by the crackling of boots in the snow. 

Refreshing the page, a familiar pinkish colour circled Catra’s profile picture. Catra’s mum sat in front of a red and gold Christmas tree, the same brown cat on her lap, smiling at the camera. The mug in her hand matched the wine colour of her silk button up pyjamas. A simple nye was scribbled at the bottom of the picture. 

Adora smiled back. It was kind of sweet, knowing someone else was spending New Years without friends. Her finger lingered on the screen, the thought of saying something made it swipe up. She typed ‘ hope you’re having a good time!’ and ‘ im home for nye too’ and ‘ why do you hate me and why can i not talk to you ughhhh’ before promptly deleting all of them. 

The couple in the movie had gone ice-skating and Adam was chuckling at his phone. The girl slipped and the guy caught her, and they almost kissed like they do in every Christmas romcom. Adam chuckled at his phone again. He had been doing that all night, texting under the dinner table and ignoring the conversations around him. The adults had taken this as an opportunity to harass Adora with the i-met-you-when-you-were-this-tall kind of talk. Someone’s grandad asked if she had a boyfriend, one middle-aged man told her he was an expert on the subject when she mentioned studying Geology after school because he used to be a boy-scout, while another mansplained “tactonic” plates to her and argued when she corrected him. When he also asked her if she had a boyfriend, she had ventured to the safety of the sofa. 

“What are you smiling at?” she asked Adam, more bored than curious. 

“Nothing,” he turned his phone away from her and pinched her when she tried to steal it from him. 

“Ow!” She cried. 

“You deserved it!” He smirked victoriously. 

“Kids, come on! It’s almost midnight!” Evelyn, the party hostess, called for them on her way back to the living room, empty stemmed glasses in both hands. 

Adora met the new year drunk on champagne and with emotions bursting like fireworks. 

___________________________________

The first day back at school, Adora sat at their usual bench in the courtyard. She had fallen asleep the night before thinking about Evelyn’s drunken New Year’s speech, something about living in the moment being the best resolution. Maybe she had subconsciously picked up on it, because she had woken up in exceptionally good spirits. She had walked to school so early that half the staff hadn’t even arrived. 

The sun was melting the icy ground, and her phone screen adjusted the luminosity to impossibly dark. It was open on Catra’s instagram chat, still empty. She had been drafting messages in her notes app since sunrise. She had concluded to not start with questioning her about sexuality, or asking if she actually completely despised her. Those were second hang-out conversations. The final draft read:

  ‘hi! happy new year :) i was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee anytime this week? x’ 

 Short, simple, and to the point. She had tried to come off friendly and open. She squinted her eyes to check it three more times, making sure there were no typos or that she wasn’t about to accidentally text the worst insult known to humankind. Her finger hovered over the send button while she checked one last time and– 

“Who are you texting?” Glimmer’s hands pressed on Adora’s shoulder, the damaged ends of her violet hair grazing the side of Adora’s neck. 

She turned her phone off, message unsent, and hid it in the inner pocket of her jacket. “Nothing, I was just checking my timetable again.” 

“Right,” she felt Glimmer’s hands relax and her shoulders lift up. She cracked her neck, straightened her back and tried to remember how to smile. 

“How was the party?” Adora asked, as Glimmer took her usual seat in front of her. 

“It was great,” she shrugged, “how was your thing?” 

“Yeah, my thing was great.” 

“Great,” Glimmer repeated, a sullen smile etched on her face. 

Their words condensed into the air, the mist too weak to reach the other. They had never fought like this. Searing hot breath had scorched the space between them and Adora wasn’t fireproof. As the teal of Mermista’s hair came into view, Adora took solace in not having to navigate this friendship limbo for long. 

The smell of Perfuma’s floral scent invaded the air as she placed her tote bag on the table, and took a seat on Adora’s side. That spot was usually reserved for Mermista, it had been since the first day of school. But neither her nor Glimmer seemed disoriented by the sudden switch. She didn’t know if Evelyn’s speech could be applied to strict courtyard seating charts, but Adora still made an effort to live in the moment. 

“I tried your ginger tea, it really helped,” she said. Perfuma met her eyes with a smile so genuine, Adora regretted the half-lie she’d just told her. She had a box of gingerbread on Christmas day, which must have counted for something. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she sighed. Her elbow rested on the table, her hand holding her face. It hadn’t occurred to Adora how close she was, until she caught a glimpse of the number of freckles on her tanned skin. The framing pieces of her pale blonde waves were pulled back by small braids, intertwined with those tiny white flowers that crowd every bouquet. The way Perfuma was slouching made her look smaller, and Adora didn’t like how she had to look down on her to smile back. 

“I didn’t know you were sick,” Glimmer interjected. 

“You didn’t ask, so–” Adora responded rigidly. 

“Ouch–” Mermista muttered, “not going to get into whatever’s happening there.” 

“Good thing you don’t have to,” said Glimmer, eyes fixed on Adora. “There is nothing to get into , right Adora?”

“Right, anyways,” Mermista responded instead, clearly uninterested in having her first day back ruined. “I can’t believe I never have to see Mr Keldor ever again.” 

“He won’t be fired out of the school because you dropped his class,” Perfuma reiterated. 

“He should though, it’s not like he can teach Politics anyway!” 

“Well, I actually feel sad leaving Miss Tara’s class, but I already speak Spanish! And a free period after lunch is just optimal,” Perfuma seemed to beam with every word. 

The glowering looks between Adora and Glimmer, and the heavy pull of the phone in her pocket had left Adora with some adversity to tune in the conversation. Still, she took in Perfuma’s words and found her opening. “I’ll have a free period after lunch too! I decided to drop Economics.” 

“What?!” Glimmer shrieked, “but that’s when I have Art, I can’t drop Art!” 

“Good thing you don’t have to,” Adora said, passively. The first morning bell rang and she was up and leaving before any of them could mouth another word. Her fingers lingered on her phone as if it could grow legs and jump out of her pocket. 

An arm had found hers before she could step the threshold of the west entrance. She turned, expecting Glimmer to have stormed behind her to have a last word. She was met with the warm brown of Bow’s eyes, softened with worry. 

He asked, “Is everything okay?”, and Adora knew he meant it. Bow was sweet, and caring. He would try to fix every last one of her issues if she’d allowed him. But she was steeped with irrational anger that let her thoughts travel to irrational places. He was Glimmer’s boyfriend now, and thus as reprehensible as her. Adora shook him off, “I don’t know, is it?”

___________________________________

By the end of lunch, Adora had re-read the message enough times she could see its impression behind her eyelids. Glimmer hadn’t managed to interrupt her again – mostly because she’d turned the other way whenever she’d spot pink hair in the hallways. Most notifications had been ignored throughout the day – she had only just bothered replying to Adam’s tenth ‘where are you’. She had nothing on her mind but this text. Now, Adora stood alone next to the Economics class, ten minutes before the end of break. 

Her thumb had a tremble to it as she took a final look. Deep breath , she thought to herself, one… two… three–

“Hey Adora.”

Adora let out a pathetic yelp as her phone slipped out from the sweaty grasps of her hands. She grabbed it as Catra’s manicured hand reached for it, their fingers grazing sending a shiver down Adora’s spine. 

“Shit, is it alright?” Catra asked. 

“Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” she said hurriedly. She locked and pocketed the phone without glancing at it. She tried not to notice her own cheeks blushing. Luckily, Catra seemed too preoccupied with Adora’s possibly broken phone to notice. 

They were quiet for a moment. Catra stood there, red headphones around her neck, trying to find the right words to start. Her lips were puckered and a line creased the space between her eyebrows. She tilted her head to the side, an unconscious habit she’d been carrying since childhood.

“You’re gay, right?”

She asked, and waited. Adora stared at nothing on Catra’s face, eyes drying up from not blinking. She closed them once it became unbearable, and kept them closed for a moment. She breathed in, the back of her throat feeling just as dry. This isn’t what she had in mind for their reunion. Not that she had been up in the small hours for days making up scenarios of this exact situation. She hadn’t laid in bed, at 2 A.M, imagining black nails around a cup of coffee and polite smiles slowly fading into comfortable conversations. And she had definitely not stared at the wall for hours, mouthing all the words to an imaginary argument in another unmoving lift, or locked cupboard, or empty classroom. 

A shift in Catra’s expression reminded her this was real, and she had been standing with her lips awkwardly parted for a beat too long. She clenched her fists and pointed her thumbs to herself – “Yeah, yup. Big lesbian right here!”– before cringing and hiding her hands in the pockets of her red letterman jacket. 

Catra let out a huff of air that could’ve passed as laughter, and Adora tried not to question if she was being made fun of. Or, it had just occurred to her, being hate-crimed. Her eyes scanned over the carabiner clipped to Catra’s belt loop and decided against the latter. 

“Look, you don’t have to say yes, but I’m putting up this thing for my final art project, it’s all about queer people and how we experience life. And I was wondering if you wanted to take part,” her voice faltered nervously, oddly high-pitched. She spoke with the cadence of someone trying to hold everything in.

Adora was left speechless once again. Catra seemed particularly good at that. Catra was asking for help. The Catra D’riluth, pretentious-about-art Catra D’riluth, stalking-kids-for-a-library-book Catra D’riluth, needed her help? 

Adora wasn’t sure she should help at all. She had lived the past month as an invisible ghost failing to haunt her, feeling dread wash over her every time Catra walked away from her without a glance. If she had asked Glimmer, she’d tell her Catra was only using her for her own gain after ignoring her for so long. But she had wanted this for weeks now, a chance to be friends with Catra again. And anyway, being ignored by Catra was nothing compared to the loneliness she’d been feeling in Glimmer’s presence, so she could get lost.  All the scrambled emotions she’d been feeling gave way to a pull in her chest that brought her out of her monthlong daze. She was angry and excited and present . 

She scratched the back of her neck, feeling the loose hair that slipped out of her ponytail. “I mean, I’m not very artistic– 

“I wouldn’t make you do any art. I promise,” Catra cut in, a gentle laugh softening her face. The heaviness around them suddenly lifted and Adora exhaled a sigh of relief. “Okay, well then– sure! I’m free anytime. What about tomorrow after school?” 

“Tomorrow’s Tuesday,” Catra said inquisitively, arms crossed on her chest.

“Right–” 

 “You have practice on Tuesdays,” she added to Adora’s disoriented expression. 

“I do have practice on Tuesdays,” Adora said, a reminder she hoped would hang around longer if spoken out loud.

 “Here. Text me and we can plan something out,” Catra said, grabbing a marker from the pocket of her trousers, where the carabiner had been hanging over. She rolled up Adora’s sleeve and wrote down her number. The tip of the pen felt oddly soothing. Adora stared at the black ink on her skin. Catra still wrote her 5’s too similar to S’s, and her 2’s with a tiny loop at the bottom. Catra had started to hazily step away, fingers fidgeting with the strap of her backpack. Adora dropped her arm in time to see her walk backwards, eyes still fixed on her. 

“Where are you going?” Adora asked, a hint of reluctance in her voice. She didn’t want her to leave. 

“Class,” Catra said with a laugh that Adora shared. Their eyes followed each other until Catra’s figure disappeared around the corner. Adora had barely any time to notice the flow of students that had invaded the corridor, when a booming voice raptured behind her.

“Greyskull! I know you must be elated to be leaving my classroom but, alas, you are required in one last time,” Mr. Hordak said. Adora thanked her past self for her wise decision, and went into her last Economics lesson with a lighter heart. 

___________________________________

By wednesday, the wind of tension that flew within the friend group was unmistakable. Despite no one daring to look at her if not arbitrarily, Adora felt all eyes on her. She was certain that Glimmer must’ve spent an afternoon venting to Mermista, who had turned unusually quiet. She had recently broken up with her on-again-off-again boyfriend, which would’ve meant a lunch break of groans and complaints progressively leading to gentle suspicions they’d be back together by the end of the week. Bow, on the other hand, had tried his best to keep their normal dynamics. He had been texting Adora lightly veiled offers of solution, but Adora’s stubbornness had rendered all conversations impossibly short-lived. 

Today’s daily debate had covered which was the better sandwich sold in the canteen. “I think they’re all a bit gross,” Adora stated the one time Bow had tried to include her in the discussion. Truthfully, she wasn’t interested. Her mind was completely caught in the weight of the items she was carrying in her backpack, that she and Catra had agreed upon the night before. Diaries, pictures, trinkets with a particular history behind them. They had texted nonstop into the early hours, before either of them realised how late it was. But the tiredness hadn’t reached Adora, partly thanks to the triple shot  coffee in her thermos. 

When the bell rang, Glimmer stiffly mumbled a goodbye in her direction. Adora gave her a thin-lipped smile before walking away. The politeness of their gestures would’ve grieved her, if the memories of her frustration with her weren’t still so vivid in her mind. She made her way to the East Wing, where most of the Arts and Humanities classes took place. She hadn’t needed to set foot in that part of the building since her last English class, at the end of junior year. The liberty of completely choosing her own classes left her a STEM buildings dweller. 

“Adora, wait up!”

Perfuma reached her with a huff. Adora hadn’t realised the pace she’d been walking at, but now that she’d stopped she could feel the spring in her step impatiently inching her forwards.

“Mh?” She mumbled, barely a question. Perfuma halted next to her, trying to fit the last of her lunch in her backpack. 

“I thought we were going to the library together, since we both have a free period now,” she said, eyes quizzically looking into Adora’s. 

“Oh, that wasn’t– I didn’t mean it like that,” she muttered, before realising how rude that must’ve sounded. “I mean– No, I mean I’d love to! That sounds great!” Perfuma didn’t seem incredibly convinced.

Perfuma lowered her eyes and glared at the painted concrete ground. The wind had picked up in the slow minutes they’d remained silent, seizing the white flowers in Perfuma’s hair and letting them dance away. The cold air seemed to blow defeat all over her face. Adora felt a pain in her chest, watching Perfuma chew her cheek and furrowing her brows. 

“It’s just that something came up today and–” she tried. She did not have the time to finish her words, that Perfuma’s eyes were glaring back at her, harsher that she’d ever seen them. 

“Adora, do you have a girlfriend?” She asked and stood still. That impossible soul-searching look she’d used on Adora before, putting her in the spot with all blazing lights on her, now seemed an acknowledgement of her own identity that Adora had not appreciated before. Perfuma was standing her ground, and Adora felt overwhelmed.

“What?” She asked dumbfounded.

“It’s fine if you have some sort of secret girlfriend we don’t know about. I mean, that’s probably why you’re being so distant with the others,” Adora realised that Perfuma was probably too new to the group to be let into their melodramas. “–you didn’t have to lead me on, though.” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” She tried to explain, but as the words came out of her mouth, her phone interrupted her with a loud ping . She thought better than to check it, even though all the muscles in her body were screaming at her to. Perfuma gave it a disheartened glare.

Adora’s heart sank at the dejected figure before her. Perfuma’s feelings towards her hadn’t been just plain friendliness, she realised now. 

Something in Adora stirred, and the possibility in front of her brightened her vision. Maybe it could make sense, maybe they could make sense. She hadn’t really made the effort to get to know her. They’d never talked before this year, after Perfuma had transitioned and found a safer space with the Rebellion – the group name they gave themselves as each of them figured out their own queerness. Since Bow and Glimmer had found their match, and Mermista’s love life was as tumultuous as it was unchanging, maybe Perfuma could be the answer to Adora’s disruption. Sure, there were things about her that Adora wasn’t particularly fond of, and she wasn’t exactly her type , but she was pretty and caring. As the thought reached her, a shapeless shadow seemed to eclipse it. 

“We can still hang out tomorrow,” she tried again, “I swear, I don’t have a–“

Her ringtone sounded out in the now mostly empty courtyard. Only one of the caretakers, clearing out the usual after-lunch litter, shushed her from a distance. 

It was Catra. She sent another text as soon as Adora refused the call.  

“I won’t tell anyone about her,” Perfuma spoke under her breath. 

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Adora rebutted, loud enough to receive another warning by the caretaker. There was a loose tremble in her voice, and her cheeks flushed. 

At that, the sound of hard knocking resounded behind her. Catra was standing, palms flat on the glass of the main entrance of the building, banging at a rhythm of threes. Once she’d caught Adora’s attention, she moved her lips to the sound of “HELLO?” , and made a disapproving face at Adora’s plea for one more minute. 

A minute she wouldn’t have the chance to make use of, as Perfuma had already walked away. She watched the back of her bright blonde hair flowing in the worsening wind. Strangely, she felt the clutch in her chest let loose the further Perfuma strode on. 

“Could you not have waited one more minute?” She asked, with an overexaggerated sigh. Catra, with her arms crossed on her chest and an impatient expression, took Adora’s wrist as soon as she’d stepped foot in the door. Adora wondered if it was a habit of hers, the memory of running down the marble stairs of the art gallery flashing back. 

“No! I booked us one-hour hall passes. You can talk to your girlfriend later,” she said. They had arrived at the bottom of a staircase. She had let go her wrist, which now felt oddly vulnerable in its place on Adora’s side. 

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Adora protested, her words sounding more confident than the ones she’d spoken to Perfuma. “And anyway, you still haven’t told me what this project even is!” 

___________________________________

6 Months Ago

The corridor outside Castaspella’s office was lined with drawings and paintings of students now a long way from school. Catra admired them from the soft armchair Castaspella had provided as a waiting room. Catra’s lungs still tightened at the feeling of calling a teacher by her first name, but since their first day of art class, they’d been instructed to do as such. Castaspella – “Or Ms Casta if other people are around” she’d told them with a wink – was a school favourite, and Catra figured the waiting list for one of her office appointments matched her status. 

“Come in!” Ms Casta shrilled behind the closed door. “Oh Catra, yes. Have a seat.” 

The walls of her office were covered with as many art pieces as a museum wall. She had reserved the spots around the door for the absolute best; Catra had the refraining urge to look for her art, her signature. Not yet . Not there anyway. She’d been given a small place on the left wall, one of the first paintings she was assigned. There were hundreds thank you notes pinned to the corkboard behind her desk. Her eyes landed on the words ‘confirmed a place at Brightmoon Royal School for the Arts’ printed on pale cognac paper. The name of the student was hidden by the creases of an adjacent letter, but as she closed her eyes she imagined Catra D’riluth written in that elegant font. 

Castaspella held a pair of halfmoon glasses to the warmth of her brown eyes. “Excellent marks, Catra. And your pieces, I must say they are always a delight to receive. I don’t see what I can assist you with today, dear,” she spoke with the brisk cadence of someone tight on time. 

“I wanted to talk about my final project,” Catra said. She had rehearsed the words in her bathroom mirror that morning, knowing it would take practice to lose the tremble stuck in her throat. With a furrowed brow, Castaspella read over Catra’s report sheet.

“No, that’s right,” she mumbled quietly to herself, before she took off her glasses and stared with confusion in Catra’s direction, “you’re still in Year 11, dear, you won’t have to worry about your project until next September–”

“I know, but–” she felt her voice lose the confidence she had disciplined herself into using. 

“I would be more worried about your university application, you know the board wants to see ideas before the end of term.” 

“I’m going to Brightmoon Arts!” It came out of her like a sudden wind had picked up in the pits of her stomach. She had never spoken it out loud before, too afraid to jinx the one thing she had dreamed of her entire life. But that was it, it was out in the world and the God she didn’t believe in could play with it as it pleased. “I’ve already filled in my application–”

“Catra, dear–”

“I have all the right grades–”

“Catra–”

“And I have the work experience–”

“Catra! Listen to me, dear. The last time one of our students was accepted into BRSA was, what 10 years ago?” 11 years , Catra thought to herself. “These are once in a lifetime statistics we’re considering, dear. It wouldn’t hurt to have a back-up plan.” Castaspella looked at her like she was a desperate child, pleading for the impossible.

“I won’t need a back-up plan,” Catra shook her head. Perhaps she was a desperate child, but she refused to give up the coveted spot on that damned art wall. “I have an idea, and I’m sure it will work. But I need the school’s access and I know approvals can take months. ” 

Castaspella’s look wasn’t definite, Catra knew it all too well, but it was something . She closed her report sheet, fit those half moon glasses back on the bridge of her nose, and extended Catra a listening ear. “Access to what, exactly?” 

___________________________________

They came out of the empty classroom with still a trace of laughter on their faces. Despite their conversation branching out, they had managed to not derail each other too much. Catra had seemed happy with all the thoughts and trinkets Adora had brought with her, and showed her the grace of not pressing further at times Adora seemed apprehensive to speak. Vulnerability didn’t suit her as well as others. 

So, Catra’s initial remarks about time pressure had been easily forgotten and they finished with ten minutes to spare. Their voices echoed in the hallway, on the very top floor of the east wing. Catra explained it had been in disuse for almost ten years, for no particular reason other than lack of demand. Still, they found themselves lifting a ‘No Access’ tape over their heads to reach it. 

“So, do you have any questions?” Catra asked, voice still giddy with the excitement of her project. There was an opportunity in the air between them, and Adora couldn’t lose her chance to seize it, “How many do I get?”  

Catra thought for a moment, and with a half impertinent smile, she said “Three.” 

That would do. She took a deep breath, and tried to muster the courage she should’ve confronted her with weeks ago. “Why did you act like I didn’t exist for almost two months?''

Catra shifted on her feet. Adora dared to see a tinge of rose colouring her cheeks. “Pass,” she declared after a second too long. 

She heard herself whine, “You can't pass!”

“Then, I'm postponing it. It still counts as a question,” she said, teasingly. 

Adora wanted to argue. There was something in the way Catra stood, smug stare and all, that made her world turn back in time, when childish quarrels were nothing but a synonym of conversation. Only, they weren’t children, and Adora had to make good use of the limits that implied. So, when Catra asserted her “Next question,” she had to lay her cards on the table and hoped Catra wanted to play.

“I want to help.”

“Not a question.”

She was beginning to think Catra enjoyed abusing her talent of getting under her skin a little too unashamedly. 

She let out a half-irritated, half-joking groan, “Will you let me help you?”

Catra pretended to think for a moment, hand on her chin while she sighed the beginning of a sentence and then, as blatantly as she’d always been, said “No.” 

“Oh come on! Have I not proved to be an extremely gifted art companion?” She contended with the most charming smirk she could prosper, before realising she must have struck the wrong chord. Catra was not nearly as amused as Adora had hoped. She seemed to be studying her, and if the hallway hadn’t been a victim of the freezing January wind, she might’ve felt a trickle of sweat roll down her back. 

“Why do you even want to? Don’t all your friends hate me anyway?” Catra asked, a stern weight on her furrowed brows. Her posture had changed, from laid-back to almost shut down.

Adora sighed, “It’s complicated. We’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.”

“So what,” she scowled, furrowed brows shadowing her eyes, “is this your way to get back at them?” 

“No, it’s nothing like that! Is it impossible to believe I might just want to help you?” 

“What if I don't need your help?” There was a clear mix of contempt and defence in the tone of her voice. She held herself tall, her arms crossed like a shield to her chest. It was fierce pride seething through her words, the kind of pride that let you see no other ways but your own. It was not surprising to Adora that Catra would hold such pride, she always had. Never admitting she’d been in the wrong, never accepting a critical comment, if not through harsh comebacks and silent treatments. Adora had been favoured in that respect, when they’d been twelve and the stakes of daily life seemed the most ferocious. “Catra, this project is absurd. You’re filling this whole hallway–”

“And the rooms,” she cocked her head towards the three closed doors on their side.

“And three rooms?” Adora gaped, which seemed to coax a pleased look out of her. “I know I won’t be any help with the art, but there must be something I could do,” she thought herself close to dropping to her knees and begging. When she had drifted off to sleep the night before, she had only dared to dream of a casual conversation with Catra. This project was the open door into gaining back some form of friendship she’d been looking for.  “Anything?” She tried again, almost a whisper. Catra let out a surrendering sigh. 

“I suppose, you do have car–”

“You can’t drive?” Adora asked with a loud snort, that she tried and failed to cover with a forced cough. 

“Of course I can drive,” Catra snapped, “I just don’t have a car.”

“You?” Adora frowned. Everyone who had lived in town for more than a week would know Catra D’Riluth came from money. Her dad had used to flaunt it with big loud neighbourhood barbecues and all the latest technologies. Adora’s dad would talk their heads off at dinner, praising the man’s new television while making snide remarks of its price. After everything went down, and her dad was not there to remind them of the extent of the D’Riluth’s bank account, Glimmer had filled in that role well enough. She could see her, swiping pictures on her pink glittery phone, arguing that if anything, Catra could afford to buy a car. 

“What?” Catra asked, taking the offence with a sense of devilish play. 

“ Your parents didn’t get you a car? How bad are you–” Adora started, but the eyes staring up at her threatened her into silence.

“You might want to choose your next words wisely,” Catra said, and despite the warning, her voice had grown softer.

“Yes ma’am,” Adora said, stepping back and doing a hand salute. As Catra was trying to hide away a smile, she made a move to seal her lips and throw away an invisible key. She watched the corner of Catra’s lips for a grin that came along a chuckle. Adora knew the safeguarding walls Catra was used to build up  were never so stable, and the small win she’d just secured seemed to have found a fracture to break right through. “You have one last question,” Catra said. 

  “How did you know I have soccer practice on Tuesdays?” She asked, filled with the cockiness of things going her way. 

She glared at Catra’s open mouth with a slight sickening pleasure. “None of your friends are on the team,” she continued, “I don’t think you’ve taken a sudden liking to the sport, but maybe a player–” 

Catra scoffed out a laugh, “What, you think I would waste my afternoons watching you? ”

“I’ll have you know I was nominated the most handsome member of the team,” she smirked. It was a title she took with pride, and the reminder gave her a boost of confidence. 

“Aw, were they giving out consolation prizes?”

There it was. They were at each other’s throats once again, with nothing but mischief in the turn of their words. Young eyes and provoking smiles, and everything Adora had missed. She opened a hand to her chest and caught her breath as theatrically as the muscles of her face allowed it. 

“I will let you drive me around if you drop the attitude,” Catra muttered through a laugh. Adora’s dramatics leaned her forwards, her hands grasping Catra’s own and holding them close to her. “I can promise you anything but that,” she whispered. 

Catra’s laugh died in her throat. Her eyes darted from her face to the knuckles knit between them. Something buried deep in Adora’s chest screamed at her to let go, while every tendon fought back to stay still. The hallway was silent, save for their shaking breaths and the wind whistling through the drafts in the windows. 

Then, the drilling ring of the bell sounded out from the floor below, and Catra was the first to free her hands. Adora watched as she wiped her palms down the side of her uniform jumper. “I have to go– go get my stuff,” she mumbled, “I’ll text you.” 

Adora fidgeted with the straps of her backpack. She stared at the ceilings and tried to start making sense of her thoughts, before realising she had Geography next. On the other side of campus.