Chapter Text
“She did thousands worth of damage. I should really be pressing charges.” Trini winces as she sits in the stuffy office, fingers grasping the old, musty, maroon leather chair as her eyes are focused on the deep red mahogany table in front of her, the silver name plaque glaring at her in return and her dad covers her wrist with his hand, squeezing in support as the man scolds her.
What the fuck kind of name was ‘Zordon’ anyway?
He pinches the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh before he sits in his villain-with-a-cat styled chair and rests his elbows on the desk. “However; I do know that she was not entirely to blame, and I presume she refuses to give up the names of those with her?”
Trini looks up to glare at him because she is in the fucking room, he can talk directly to her instead of her dad. Michael squeezes her hand again when he sees the eyebrow raise plastered on his daughter’s face and clears his throat, “she is willing to take responsibility for her actions in any way you see fit, Dean Zordon, but can we try and deal with this amicably? I can’t afford a lawyer and my baby girl doesn’t deserve to be sent away from me for something she found harmless at the time. I’ll find another job to pay what we owe or I can take out a loan, just please let us deal with this privately. Her and my boys are all I have.”
And it hadn’t hit Trini before now, how stressed her dad must’ve got as soon as he heard about the damage she’d caused, the amount of money it would cost them, money they don’t have. “I’ll work it off.”
It’s the first words she’s said since they sat down in this room, and the silence following suffocates her as the Dean stares at her, “excuse me?”
“I’ll work it off. I’ll do whatever demeaning, shitty jobs need doing around here every day after school and even weekends if I have to for as long as it takes to pay it off.” She straightens in her seat, sits tall in challenge, brushing off her dad’s timid voice as he says her name and she feels sick to her stomach, because even through all the hard times, Michael has never sounded so defeated. And she’s completely to blame. “I won’t tell you the names of the others, but I also won’t sit here and let my dad work himself even more into the ground because of something I’ve done.”
Zordon hasn’t removed his eyes from her and it’s starting to freak her out a little. She can handle the judgement, the questioning. What she can’t handle is the way he seems to see straight into her soul, like he knows every secret, every scar. But she sits strong, staring back just as intently. “What time does your school day finish?”
“Two thirty.”
He nods once. Sharp. Precise. “Very well. You will be here Monday to Friday at exactly three pm, and will work until seven pm. You will be here Saturday morning from nine am until one pm and you may take Sunday off.” Trini and Michael stare at him in shock before he presses a button on his desk phone, speaking loud and clear. “Alpha, I will need a working contract printing off with slight changes.” He doesn’t take a breath as he gives the person on the other end instructions- working hours, days, job roles... Oh, and the small detail that if Trini doesn’t see this through, they will have to pay for the damage in cash. “Yes, I believe that is all, Alpha, I shall send them to the front desk to sign.”
Trini shakes her head, laughing slightly because beyond the firm, authoritative voice, she can’t help but be amused at the fact that the Dean’s last name is Zordon and his assistant’s name is Alpha because seriously? What in the actual...
He puts the phone down and looks back to her dad again, “maybe your daughter isn’t quite the delinquent I originally thought.”
Rude.
“I do hope she can prove to us both that she is an asset to society over the next six months.”
“Six months?” Is he having a damn laugh?
The Dean shrugs at her, “that is what is left of the school year and I assure you that even that time will not fully cover the damage you have caused. This is a performing arts school, your work here will barely cover the cost of the equipment that needs replacing, never mind the fact that students have spent months on the projects you wrecked in the theatre room. So I would say six months is more than lenient on my end. Don’t you agree?” Trini barely nods, slumping down in her seat as she hangs her head low and he takes that as her acceptance. “I shall see you at three pm on Monday. You are dismissed.”
She bolts before the last word leaves his mouth, waits outside the office, feels the guilt pile on her even more as her dad lingers to thank the Dean profusely, guaranteeing that Trini won’t let him down. The bell rings as she waits and students walk by her, some giving her dirty looks and she assumes they are the theatre kids, kids that spent so long on the things that took her seconds to destroy. Her dad wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her forehead, “come on, mija, let’s get this paperwork signed and head home.”
Trini doesn’t even read the contract before she signs it, wanting to leave here as quickly as possible and the short, skinny man who she assumes is Alpha smiles wide at her, the creases at his eyes behind his glasses telling her that he is much older than he looks at first sight.
The ride home is silent, tense, and they stay in the car long after Michael shuts off the engine after he parks outside the trailer. She knows he needs to get to his second job soon and that he’s waiting for her to relieve their neighbour and get dinner on for her brothers. “I’m sorry, papi.”
Michael sighs, reaches over and pulls her awkwardly over the console to wrap his arms around her and she sniffs into his chest in an attempt not to cry when he kisses the top of her head. “I was teenager once, Trini. I get your need to go out and have fun, make stupid decisions. But it’s just the four of us now, we have to look out for each other.” He pulls back and holds her shoulders. “I’ve always let you make your own choices when it comes to your friends, but they are willing to let you go down on your own for this and it’s admirable that you will take this punishment by yourself, but if you carry on like this, next time you might not be let off so easily and I don’t know if I’ll be able to help.” A tear escapes her and she wipes it away furiously. “I’m so proud of the young woman you have become, Trini, and I will not let this one reckless mistake change my opinion on that, but it’s time to start being responsible. As much as I don’t want my baby girl to grow up,” she laughs through her tears, “you’re almost an adult, it’s time to start acting like one.” He glances at the clock and sighs again, “I have to get to work.”
“I’ll leave you dinner in the oven, you can warm it up when you get in.”
“Thank you, mija.”
Her brothers hassle her as soon as she walks through the door, worriedly asking her how much trouble she’s in but she tells them not to worry about it, plasters a smile on her face as she thanks her neighbour for looking after them and gets to work on cleaning the trailer before she starts dinner.
A text comes through on her phone and she rolls her eyes.
Troy: So how much trouble did you get in to?
Trini: Working at the school for six months to pay off the shit you two did.
Troy: Shiiiiiit, we’re sorry, T, but you know what’ll happen to me if my step dad finds out.
Bullshit.
Trini: It’s whatever. I’m there everyday after school so won’t be able to hang with you guys.
Troy: Thanks for taking one for the team. We’ll make it up to you.
She scoffs and deletes it. Shakes her head as she begins chopping up vegetables and considers her life.
She has to do better. For her dad, her brothers. Herself.
Her thumb lingers over Troy and Lisa’s names in her phone, makes the split decision to delete their details, an instant wave of relief filling her.
-
It’s no surprise that Troy and Lisa skip school on Monday, her phone has been a constant stream of texts all weekend but she refuses to re-enter their details, the numbers easier to ignore without their names attached to them. They told her about the car they’d stole and how much they got for it, that they were going to use the money to get out of town for the day and asked her to come along, apparently not caring that she now has obligations.
Stealing cars is something she never got involved with, no matter how desperate she was for cash, so she’d always make an excuse to sit it out when she knew what they were planning, stayed away from the parties that were held by the people they were working for.
Her dad really didn’t need the extra stress of her being an actual criminal if they ever got caught.
This situation is different. Sure, in the eyes of the law breaking and entering, property damage, etcetera, is of course a criminal offence. But it started off harmless. Troy had convinced them it’d be hilarious to break into ‘Angel Grove’s School of Performing Arts’. Wanted to go in there and take the piss out of the rich kids. Maybe shift some things around, play with the lighting a little, pretend they belonged there for half an hour and Trini didn’t really see the harm in letting loose, they weren’t going in there with the intention of wrecking the place.
But then Troy tripped over a statue and it smashed as it fell to the floor.
She tried to stop it. She did. But as she rushed forward she tripped over a wire on the ground and the next thing she knew a large fixture fell from the ceiling and heavy footsteps were making their way towards them.
Troy and Lisa burst out laughing, the former throwing more things from the stage and the latter ripping the costumes off of the rack as Trini stood there frozen.
The place looked like a bomb site by the time security got to them and Troy and Lisa played around with him, running in opposite directions and giggling each time he missed them before they ran off and Trini shook herself into action.
In her haste to follow them, she realised her foot was still caught up in the wiring and she wasn’t quick enough. Large arms wrapped around her and a gruff voice told her she was in trouble. No matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t wiggle free.
Now she’s here. Five minutes before she needs to be.
Trini looks up at the tall, ancient building with a heavy sigh, watches as the preppy, pretentious kids shove past her like she’s invisible. Some of them look at her as if to say ‘you don’t belong here’.
And they’re right. Somebody like her doesn’t belong in a place like this.
But she’s forced to be here for a minimum of six months so she’s going to put her head down and get on with her self-sentenced community service.
Why did she listen to her so-called friends and get herself in to this mess?
She composes herself, takes in a long, deep breath and holds her head high, false confidence oozing from her as she makes her way up the steps and through the giant double doors.
The two times she’s been here before, the break-in and the scolding, didn’t really give her time to look around and she can’t help but marvel at the high walls on the ground floor, covered in different styles of art before she comes to a spiral staircase and the art turns into pictures of theatre productions, singers and dancers.
There’s one that stands out to her. A frame much bigger than the rest at the top of the stairs. A girl in pure white, make up and all. She’s flying mid air, limbs positioned gracefully and she finds herself enamoured, not only at the subject of the photograph, but also at the style of the photographer.
A loud bell rings painfully down her ear and she looks at her watch in panic. “Shit!”
“Hey, hey wait up.” There’s a boy running towards her and she’s suddenly in fight mode. “You’re Trini, right?” She tilts her head at him with a frown and he grins at her, holds his hands up. “Don’t worry, I’m not a stalker or anything. Although for you I could be.”
He winks at her and she rolls her eyes, “barking up the wrong gay, homeboy.”
“Fair enough,” he shrugs and she relaxes slightly, still wary. “I’m Zack. I was supposed to meet you out front but I was running late.”
Her shoulders slacken as she realises he’s not just some creepy guy that seems to know her name. “You a student here?”
Zack smiles lazily at her, “nah I work here. I was suppose to finish after the morning shift but Dean Z asked me to come back and show you what you’re going to be doing.”
“You call the Dean, Dean Z?”
He smiles again and Trini finds herself with her own quirk of lips. “Most students just call him Zordon, he’s actually a pretty chill guy. Strict and scary, but chill.” The silence lingers after that and Trini stares pointedly at her watch. “Oh, right. Follow me, we have to go to Zordon’s office first and then I’ll show you the ropes.”
Trini glances once more at the picture and reads the caption;
Madison Mishra
Swan Lake 1983
Photographed by: Theodore Hart
“Great photo right? Those two are like, AGSPA royalty.”
“Never heard of them.”
Zack laughs as he walks, loud and boisterous and it echoes down the now empty halls. “Well unless you follow ballet or photography, I’m not surprised.” He practically skips as he walks and really, Trini should find this annoying, but she thinks she could actually enjoy spending time with him, the energy he gives off making her feel free somehow. “So I heard what you did, taking the fall for your friends. Pretty crazy. I had to clean up your mess by the way, so thanks for that.”
She winces as she follows him past the music studios, sees various people in the rooms but can’t hear anything from the soundproof walls, “sorry.”
“Ah, don’t be. Got paid double time for it.”
They make their way past the dance rooms next, the clear glass showing different classes, different levels of ballet and ballroom, some contemporary and-
Jesus, doesn’t this school do anything fun?
“How come there are still students about? Most schools in the area finish before three.”
Zack scoffs as they turn down a familiar hall and Trini knows they’re near the office. “Tuition to get into this school is... astonishing. Parents expect results for the amount they pay and results come with a price that doesn’t include money. Results come with long hours and hard work. The students here may seems like stuck-up, privileged kids, but they're dedicated." He looks her over, “I bet you can dance. I've seen enough of these people to know who's good at what. I myself am a master of street, we'll have to have a session at some point.”
She smiles wryly at him and lies through her teeth, “sorry to disappoint. I can't dance for shit.”
He looks at her like he doesn’t believe her, rightly so, but opens the door anyway.
“You’re late.”
“My fault, DZ, I was late meeting her.”
Zordon huffs at him, “Mr. Taylor, how many times must I request you call me by my proper title?” He then looks at Trini, “I gather you paid attention on your way here. I will not tolerate you being late again.” She nods at him and he picks up a couple of sets of overalls that she already knows are going to be too big. “Here is your uniform. I expect you to follow Mr. Taylor’s directions. He has offered to help you for the first couple of days and then you will be on your own. I run a tight ship here, this school is to be spotless at all times, I have a reputation to uphold. You will report to me at the beginning and end of every shift and if I am not here, Alpha will be, so you shall report to him. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
And Trini doesn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but Zordon raises his brow and she gulps as Zack stifles a snicker. “I will see you again at seven and not a moment sooner.”
His dismissal ends with him clicking a pen and focusing on the sheet of paper in front of him and Zack grabs her by the elbow, pulling her out of the room and further down the hall to the janitor’s closet where she changes quickly, sighing at the baggy clothes, before she’s back to following Zack, glad about the empty halls as Zack explains she’ll be working on the abandoned ground floor as not to interrupt the dancers.
They pass by the dance studios again but this time something catches her eye.
Someone catches her eye and she stops her forward momentum. Zack’s still talking as he walks into her. “So do you have a last name or is it like a Cher and Madonna thing-” he grunts as his front connects hard with her back but she isn’t fazed.
Trini isn’t fazed because there’s a girl performing a solo piece, the music soft in her ears as she watches her twirl and flow and-
Was that a fucking plié? How typical.
But she’s not exactly complaining.
Zack waves his hand in front of her eyes but she doesn’t see it, focused solely on short, swaying, dark hair and limbs that seem to go on and on and her jaw is slack as her eyes roam. “Yo! Earth to Trini. We got work to do remember?”
“Who’s that?”
He looks between Trini and the room as she eventually brings her attention to him and he glances at her warily. “That? That’s trouble. And isn’t trouble something you should be staying away from?
Trini pouts. He’s right. She has a job to do and she has to keep her head down and do it. No distractions.
She looks back into the room with one last, regretful sigh because she hasn’t got time for this. In another lifetime maybe, but not this one. She has to keep her distance.
Damn it, why did trouble have to look so good?