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The last thing Trini wants to do when she gets home is to talk to her parents. She just really plans on sneaking in, avoiding as much a fuss as possible, and holing up in her room until it’s time for dinner.
Unfortunately, nothing goes according to this plan.
When she enters the house, she’s greeted by the sight of her parents sitting on the couch, obviously waiting for her, and she tenses up on instinct.
Her grip on her bag’s strap tightens when she sees an official-looking envelope on the coffee table, and oh fuck, she really should have just climbed in through her bedroom window instead.
Her mother’s gaze is hard and unforgiving, and her father’s is somewhat apologetically disappointed, as if it’s his fault she’s going to receive a good, long reprimand from his wife. It is for this reason that Trini clenches her jaw, putting on her big girl pants and rallying every ounce of her willpower to not flinch and to accept what’s going to happen.
She refuses to back down from what appears to be an inescapable punishment for her own carelessness.
“Sit down,” her mother orders, and Trini obeys without argument.
The silent judgment continues for several long seconds, but Trini doesn’t show any sign of discomfort. She’s not going to give them that satisfaction.
Finally, after what’s felt like forever, her mom huffs an annoyed breath and pushes a sheet of paper towards her. “So this came in the mail today.”
Trini picks it up. Yeah, just as she thought. The B– glares at her from the page, the red ink like a death sentence.
“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Her mother’s tone is getting a dangerous edge now, riled up with Trini’s non-expression.
“What do you want me to say?” she asks, evenly. “It’s not a failing mark.”
“It’s not an A either!”
“Now, swee—” her father tries to defuse the tension, but her mother is having none of it.
“No! You keep letting her get away with whatever she’s doing, and it’s getting out of hand! She needs discipline!” Her mother glares at her. “You need to pick up your slack! You won’t be accepted in any good colleges if your grades are like this!”
“It’s a B, not the end of the world,” Trini says, and it is a very, very bad move.
“Don’t give me that attitude!” her mother nearly screeches, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she looks at her again, she’s forcibly calmer. “You need grades higher than this, so you need to study harder. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Good. Now, your teacher says you do well with lab activities but not with the written exams. So I arranged for you to have a tutor. Maybe having someone else checking over your work will help you improve.”
Trini blinks, hearing the words but not processing their meaning. “What now?”
Her mother carries on as if she didn’t speak. “You know the Harts, they have a daughter who’s apparently in the same class as you. Do you know Kimberly? I asked her mother if Kim could spare an hour or two a day to help you out, and she said yes. Kim’s also agreed, she’s such a sweet little thing. Very polite. Pretty, and smart to boot. You’re going to meet with her here starting tomorrow, after her cheer practice.” Her mother nods, satisfied with her pitch, and as usual not giving Trini any chance to object before standing up and ending their talk. “I expect you to be in your best behaviour.” Then she walks away, leaving her and her father staring at each other.
“What just happened?” Trini asks, bewildered.
Her father sighs, looking about as defeated as ever. “I think you just got a tutor.”
Well.
That’s not good.
That’s not good at all.
//
“You probably should head home now,” Zack says, brows furrowing as he stares at the setting sun. “You don’t want your mom to be even more pissed.”
Trini scoffs, raising an eyebrow at him. She’s lying on the hood of her car. “Since when do you care about that?”
He shrugs. “Hey, I’m just saying, if you hit a few more of her buttons, it’s not gonna be pretty.”
“I know that.”
“So go. Be a nerd and study.” He scrunches his nose, as if disgusted. “And whoa, I can’t believe I just said that non-ironically.”
She laughs. “Yeah, it’s probably a cold day in hell, huh? Zack Taylor, King of Detention, just told me to study. I feel so blessed.”
“Shut up. It’s just that if your mom gets on your case even more, it’s gonna be real hard for you to escape and make it to our bonfire nights.” He crosses his arms. “I don’t wanna lose my drinking buddy to academics.”
Trini sighs, because for once, she knows Zack is right. Her mother’s been watching her like a hawk since yesterday, and it’s going to get worse if she fails to show up on time to the damn tutoring session. “Fine, fine. I’m going.”
“It couldn’t be that bad, right?” Zack says. “It’s just Kim.”
“She’s the head cheerleader.”
“Yeah, and I’m Zack Taylor.” He rolls his eyes. “No duh.”
“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”
“She seems good.”
“That’s ’cause you’re thinking with a different head.”
“Okay, now you’re just being mean.”
“I’m always being mean.”
“Play nice.”
Trini smirks. “Never.”
//
For the most part, Trini actually finds Biology a pretty interesting subject. Perhaps not as fascinating as chemistry and physics, but she can appreciate the rote learning needed in many of its topics; memorisation might not be the best way to gauge intelligence, but it sure does pay to have some piece of information immediately at the tip of her tongue.
It’s intellectually stimulating, when she really pays attention. It’s challenging to learn all about neurotransmitters and every bump in a bone and cardiac rhythm. Every diagram she draws must be accurate; otherwise, what’s the point, right?
So yeah. It’s not that she hates the subject; she just doesn’t like it as much as the others.
But with this tutoring issue in her foreseeable future, she just might learn to hate it with all that she is.
Tutoring itself won’t be that much of a problem, if it’s in school. At least there, Trini’s got some form of control unhindered by the anxiety that her parents’ mere presence evokes. But that’s out of the question, obviously, and what’s more, her tutor’s going to be Kimberly freaking Hart.
Of course Trini knows she shares the same class with the head cheerleader. It’s kinda difficult to ignore that fact when every time Kim enters the classroom, everyone watches with rapt attention. She’s never alone, with their schoolmates always seeking her out and begging for her to notice them.
It’s ridiculous, is what it is—the way the entire student body seems to fall on their feet at Kimberly’s every whim—and Trini decides to hate her on principle.
(“You know that’s a lie,” Zack said when she told her about it. “Your little gay heart just can’t handle that much beauty without overheating.”
“Shut the fuck up, Taylor,” she said, because Zack’s an ass and he knew nothing.
In all likelihood, Kimberly Hart has no damn idea who the fuck Trini is, and Trini sure as hell doesn’t care either way.)
Anyway. Yeah. Trini’s not a fan of her tutor, which is why this whole tutoring thing is probably never gonna work.
//
Scratch that.
This whole tutoring thing is definitely never gonna work.
When Trini walks up their street, the first thing she sees is a pink Audi parked in their driveway, and her stomach flips on itself.
Shit.
//
Trini just about freezes on the spot when she sees Kimberly freaking Hart sitting like a goddamn Disney princess in her middle-class family’s living room, beside Trini’s mother, the both of them sipping tea from the good chinaware reserved for holidays and for guests her mother wants to impress—which apparently includes Angel Grove High’s resident queen bee.
Trini is not blind. She knows one of the reasons Kim’s such a popular girl is because her beauty honestly transcends the mortal plane. Her hair’s luscious and falls in gentle waves, neat and classy, even after she cut it off to shoulder-length. She’s got the jawline of a goddess, and her tan skin is smooth and looks soft to the touch. Her clothes fail to hide just how defined her muscles are—Trini knows because she’s seen her running around in those squad uniforms that barely leave anything to the imagination.
But Kimberly’s eyes are what captivates her the most.
Her eyes remind Trini of hot chocolate on a winter night, warm and comforting; she could almost smell woodsmoke from the fireplace, could almost hear the flame crackling and the sound of leaves crunching underfoot, could almost see wolf’s fur shining beneath the moonlight. Kim’s eyes are compelling, magnetic, not taking no for an answer.
She looks up at Trini with those damn eyes, and her smile?
Fuck.
Her smile is like a flickering shadow, like an illicit affair, like bourbon at 3:00 a.m.—thrilling, electrifying, demanding one’s utmost devotion.
Trini internally curses and bites her tongue.
This is shaping up to be a huge fucking problem.
//
Trini’s mother leaves the two of them after shooting Trini a glare that warns her of another lecture in her immediate future and profusely apologising to Kimberly for Trini’s lateness. Kimberly just smiles, saying it’s fine, and “It’s my fault anyway, cheer practice ended early and I probably should have waited a bit before coming over.”
(And Trini’s mother just about looks on the verge of singing Kimberly the Ave Maria, honestly.)
When they’re finally alone, Kimberly stands and offers Trini her hand. “Hi, I’m Kim.”
“I know,” Trini says. It’s rather rude, she realises, and she sighs. “Sorry. Yeah. I know who you are. I mean.” She clamps her lips together before digging herself further into mortification. “Trini.”
And when she shakes Kim’s hand, she just about spontaneously explodes, because she’s correct and Kim’s skin is indeed soft to the touch, holy shit, and it’s like holding a silk glove that’s got electric currents running through each thread.
“I know,” Kim says, her eyes laughing, but not taunting. At least Trini doesn’t think so. But it’s quite difficult to think at all when that smile is freaking directed at her, full blast. It’s like a nuclear weapon or something, all white teeth and charm, like it’s a goddamn toothpaste commercial. “We do share a class together.”
Right. “Yeah.”
“So?”
“Hmm?”
“Let’s begin?”
“Oh.” She huffs, staring at those endlessly dark eyes, but not without effort. It’s freaking hard to act all high and mighty when you’re literally just barely over five feet.
It gets even more of a challenge when you’re faced with the walking personification of grace and beauty and you start acting like a fucking gay mess.
But that’s not relevant as of now.
Right.
“Let’s,” she says, dropping her bag unceremoniously on the couch before plopping down. She rummages through her stuff to get her notes and textbooks.
“You know,” Kim says, settling down uncomfortably close to Trini, “I was sorta surprised when my mom told me I’m gonna be tutoring you.”
“That’s my mom’s fault, sorry.”
“No, I mean—” Kim shrugs. “I was surprised that you needed a tutor at all.”
Trini hums, noncommittal. “Why’s that?”
“You’re always on top of the experiments and lab reports, even though you’re unbelievably quiet during discussion.” Kim releases this breathy chuckle that sets Trini’s heart racing without permission. (It’s annoying.) “I’m pretty sure you even beat me by three points in last month’s project.”
That stops Trini in her on-going campaign to avoid Kim’s eyes as much as possible. Instead she meets her stare directly, proud of herself for keeping her voice level. “You remembered that?”
Kim appears a bit flustered, and she’s the one to look away this time, but Trini’s too busy looking at the flush in her cheeks to think about the reason behind it. “It’s pretty hard to forget when I really did my best for the project only to be beaten by the quiet girl always lurking in the back of the room.”
“I do not lurk.”
“Sure, Trini,” Kim says, and god if Trini doesn’t find that the sound of her own name coming from Kim’s lips is like some sort of music.
If this is just the beginning, Trini’s not sure how sane she’s gonna be by the end of this torture.
At this rate, probably not sane at all.
//
Trini is surprised to find that she’s actually enjoying herself, talking with this popular pretty girl whom she’s already judged without even really knowing her. Trini realises how much of a jerk thing that is, and she tells Kim so.
“I have to admit,” she begins, tapping her pen on a particularly tricky question, “I pegged you as a typical head bitch.”
Kim doesn’t look offended; instead her eyes seem to sparkle with amusement. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Trini shrugs. “You know, the head cheerleader stereotype perpetuated by the media and brought to life by the American youth almost without fail.”
“I was like that, not long ago,” she says, voice soft.
“What happened?”
Kim smiles. “Met some people who made me realise I could do so much better.”
//
“See you tomorrow, then?” Kim asks when it’s time for her to go, her voice low and like a secret promise, washing over Trini like the velvet of a morning storm.
Trini tilts her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “See you tomorrow,” she says, and Kim’s answering laugh will quench her thirst for days to come.
So. Maybe Zack’s got a point about her little gay heart, after all.
Dammit.
//
Kim’s a pretty patient instructor, launching into the sort of detailed explanations that Trini wouldn’t have been able to come up with on her own. Her work is organised, all clean lines and neat handwriting, and her arrows and diagrams make sense in a way at which their textbooks fail. She doesn’t rush Trini into understanding the numerous concepts, and has instead worked out that Trini works better when there are other things happening around her. So Kim talks about other things while Trini figures out molecular evolution and evolutionary synthesis.
//
“Fascism is an ideology relying on the argument of power and not on the power of argument,” Trini says, not looking up from a heart diagram. “Morality and logic are things not really taken into account when dealing with fascist agenda.”
She’s not really sure how she finds herself talking about things not at all related to biology—or even science in general—with Kim, but by the time she realised they strayed too far off topic, it’s already too late. They’ve already covered, amongst others, the politics of eugenics and even the socialist revolution—a discussion that comes so out of left field that Trini wasted a couple of seconds staring into Kim’s eyes before formulating a response regarding the development of revolutionary syndicalism.
//
“Here.” Kim throws a small box at Trini, who easily catches it.
Trini examines the box. “What’s it?”
“Just open it.”
Trini does, and she takes out a fidget spinner. “Wha—”
“You can use it whenever you want help focusing,” Kim says. “I can’t very well talk to you while we’re taking exams, but that’s a decent alternative. That way you have another outlet when concentrating.”
“I—” Trini swallows past the emotions balling up in her throat. “Thank you,” she says.
If Kim noticed the waver in her voice, she doesn’t mention it. “You’re welcome.”
//
Early the next morning, Trini leaves a box of glazed doughnuts on Kim’s windowsill, along with a cup of coffee—black, extra shot of espresso, no sugar.
//
Kim waves at her in the cafeteria later, a huge smile threatening to split her face in two, and a hush falls over the entire area.
//
“Why are people looking at you?” Trini asks Zack.
Zack laughs out loud. “They’re not looking at me, Crazy Girl,” he says, grinning like a maniac, “they’re looking at you.”
//
She sees Kim talking to Jason Scott, star quarterback, in the bleachers. They are leaning too closely to each other, their touches gentle and familiar. She sees Kim smile at something Jason says, and Jason grins when Kim throws her arms around his neck.
Zack comes up behind her, flinging an arm over her shoulder. “Come on. I got some booze from last week’s gig. Shitty and probably tastes like piss, but I think that’s appropriate, no?”
Trini pulls her beanie lower over head, allowing Zack to stir her away.
Shit and piss sound about right for what’s roiling in her chest.
//
She only talks to Kim during their tutoring sessions after that. She stops seeking her out, avoids running into her in the hallways.
If Kim notices, she doesn’t mention it. She’s good at not mentioning things, anyway.
They both are.
//
The fidget spinner never leaves Trini’s pocket, even though she’s tried to throw it away several times.
(She sleeps with it in her hand.)
//
A week later, Trini wakes up to someone tapping on her window. She sits up immediately, eyes widening when she sees it’s Kim, holding on to the sill, bobbing her head to signal that Trini should really move and open up now before she falls down.
So Trini lets her in, backing away immediately when she remembers that she’s only wearing pajama shorts with sun prints and an over-sized NASA shirt.
“Why’re you here, Kim?” she asks, mumbles really, eyes trained on her carpet, arms wrapped around herself.
“Are you ever gonna tell me what I did wrong?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kim scoffs. “That’s bullshit.”
Trini snaps her head up, glares at Kim. She tries not to notice that Kim’s still in her sleepwear too—matching pajama set, with spaceship prints—though she fails splendidly. She also fails in not noticing that their clothes weirdly match. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she asserts.
“Then why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m no—”
Kim doesn’t hesitate in cutting her off. “If I hear another lie from you, I swear to god I will throw you out your own damn window, Trini.”
“What do you want to hear?”
“Just the truth,” Kim tells her, eyes imploring, voice cracking, and it stabs right at Trini’s heart. “Just the truth, please.”
And Trini will never let herself be the reason Kim breaks down, will never be able to deny Kim anything, so she gives her what she wants, regardless of any possible fallout.
At this point, she’s got nothing to lose anyway, except perhaps an almost that can never be.
“Remember when we talked about how soulmates are probably those whose atoms were next to each other in the big bang?” she asks, and she almost smiles at Kim’s confused frown, probably wondering where the fuck Trini’s going with this.
“Yeah?”
“They’re drawn to each other because they came from the same burst of light, from the same corner of the universe. They have the same stardust in their bones.” Trini sighs, half a laugh, half a sob. Her fingers dig into her own skin. “That’s you for me, Kim.”
“Oh,” Kim says.
“Please just go,” Trini pleads, because one more second and she’s going to fall apart.
But Kim won’t let her be. “No, no, I’m not leaving.”
“Kim, please—”
“You said your piece, and now you’re gonna listen to mine.” Kim walks towards Trini, and Trini’s vision is blurry with unshed tears. Kim’s hand is soft on her jaw, tilting her face up, and then Kim is pressing their lips together, and Trini’s entire world shifts on its axis.
“What—” Trini begins when Kim draws back.
“Your star made me,” Kim says, her voice now sure and steady, and Trini’s entire being is cradled in her hands, “and galaxies swirl in your eyes, and I’m on earth falling in love with you.”
//
Later, when their lips are sore from too much kissing, Trini explains why she’s been avoiding her.
“Trini,” Kim says, fond and exasperated at once, “I was asking him for advice on how best to tell you what I feel.”
“Oh.”
“Next time, whenever you have questions or doubts, talk to me first, okay?”
Trini buries her face into the crook of Kim’s neck, and Kim’s arms tighten around her. “Yeah, okay.”
//
“That must have been a pretty dumb star,” Zack remarks, after Trini told her what happened.
Trini socks him on the arm. “Shut up,” she says, but she doesn’t stop smiling, and she doesn’t let go of Kim’s hand.
Kim’s laughter sounds like golden sunlight, bathing Trini in the glow of home.