Chapter Text
Most high school field hockey coaches were content with a regular old whistle, but not Coach Weaver. No, hers was customized, Catra was sure. Between the matte black finish and the monogrammed engraving, the whistle could only have been the world’s most weirdly specific birthday present. Weaver had probably gotten it for herself. The thought made Catra chuckle, at least until the eardrum-shredding screech split out over the field again. Catra knew she was out of position--she was always out of position--and Weaver was incredibly meticulous about formation when the team was learning new plays. Every time Catra’s ears were subjected to the unbearable sound, she felt less and less inclined to listen to it. Of course, her attitude only made Weaver blow the whistle again. And again. And again.
After hours of painstakingly ineffective drills, three short bursts from that whistle meant that practice was finally coming to a close. Most of the team hustled to the sidelines, but Catra took her time sauntering across the field. She started to detour to get her water bottle, but a high blonde ponytail caught her eye. She swerved back to the team and picked up her pace to jog next to her best friend, Adora.
“I saw that,” Adora said, elbowing her in the side. “Sneaking a water break?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Catra said innocently.
“You know coach sees everything.”
“Whatever, loser.”
Adora cracked a smile.
Catra wasn’t sure how she’d gotten so lucky as to have a best friend, let alone one as amazing as Adora. She was a top student, a stellar athlete, and popular without even trying. Everyone, quite plainly, adored her. Catra didn’t need to tell her any of this, of course. Between the banter and the familiar little touches, they knew what they meant to each other. They’d known since they were four years old and Adora had defended Catra against a fifth grader who’d kicked over her sand castle at the beach. Ever since that Tuesday afternoon, they’d been inseparable. Goddess help any bully who tried to mess with either of them after that. Most everyone wanted to be on Adora’s good side, and Catra’s wrath was far worse a punishment than anything a principal might dole out.
Unfortunately for Catra, the latest such bully in their lives was none other than their very own field hockey coach, and she was not so easily charmed or intimidated.
“You call yourselves the Horde?” Coach Weaver shouted as the team circled up around her. “You can barely run a 5-3-2 against your own second string.”
Barely listening, Catra wondered when the coach’s last haircut had been. Her dark bangs completely obscured her eyes and most of her face. Their enigmatic coach was somewhat of a legend at Hordak Academy. When she’d attended the school (which, as far as Catra knew, could have been centuries ago), she’d been famous for her ability to stealth behind an opponent’s defense completely undetected. The yearbook remembered her as Lydia “The Shadow” Weaver. Catra hoped she never did anything in her life to earn such a stupid nickname.
Coach Weaver continued with her typical end-of-practice tirade. “We only have so long to prepare for our first meeting with those Bright Moon brats in October. Fortunately, we have a busy schedule this year, so you have plenty of time to fix your sloppy positioning.” She glared directly at Catra.
A shrimpy little freshman raised his hand. Coach Weaver ignored him.
“Once classes begin, our practices will be from 4 to 6 after school and 8 to 10 on Saturdays.”
The freshman stretched up onto his tiptoes and raised his hand an inch higher.
The coach went on. “Now, I know you’re all wondering--”
Adora’s hand shot up, immediately drawing the coach’s attention.
“Yes, Adora?”
“I think Kyle has a question.”
Coach Weaver sighed and glared at the scrawny boy. “What is it?”
Shrinking under the coach’s cold stare, Kyle opened his mouth and closed it several times before mumbling, “I forgot.”
Catra stifled a snicker. Adora poked her in the side, and Catra barely kept herself from yelping involuntarily.
“Cheater,” Catra whispered. “You know I’m ticklish.”
“So? How’s that--it’s strategic,” Adora countered.
“You play dirty,” Catra replied. “I’ll get my revenge--”
“Catra, something to add?” Coach Weaver’s voice tore into their little bubble, reminding Catra that she and Adora were not, in fact, the only two people on the field.
“Nah,” Catra said as casually as possible. She knew that nothing irked the coach more than a blasé attitude.
Coach Weaver seethed. “If there are no more interruptions...I would like you all to congratulate your new captain: Adora!”
Cheers erupted from the rest of the team. When Catra saw that the new captain was looking at her phone instead of absorbing the team’s praise, she offered her own form of congratulations in the form of a light punch to Adora’s shoulder. Adora looked up just in time to be hit in the face with a white-and-red jersey.
“You can all learn something from Adora’s playing today. Six assists in one skirmish. Team work at its finest.” Coach Weaver declared.
When Adora held it up, Catra could see a bright red “C” patched onto each shoulder. She felt a swell of pride underscored by a less pleasant, greener emotion.
As they walked towards the locker room, Catra snatched the jersey out of Adora’s hands. “Don’t expect me to start calling you captain or anything,” Catra said. “I mean, three of your assists were for goals I scored, so you’re welcome.”
“It’s pretty cool, I guess,” Adora said. She suddenly sounded far away, like she was watching their conversation from somewhere else.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Catra stepped in front of Adora, stopping her. “Why aren’t you grinning like an idiot right now? Pretty sure you just got named youngest field hockey captain in Hordak history.”
A fleeting look of panic flashed in Adora’s eyes. Most people wouldn’t have noticed it. They had certain expectations for Adora’s usually sunny disposition. To Catra, however, it was like an alarm going off.
“It was just a joke,” Catra said apologetically. “As if you’d really need my help. You earned it all on your own.” She handed the jersey back to Adora.
“It’s not--don’t worry about it, Catra,” Adora said, taking the jersey and balling it up. She strode past Catra without another word.
“O...kay?” Catra watched Adora head for the locker rooms. “See you.”
Adora didn’t look back.
***
The next day was the worst first day of school ever, as far as Catra could recall. She and Adora weren’t in any of the same classes, and they didn’t even have the same lunch period. On top of that, Adora must have forgotten to charge her phone. She hadn’t texted Catra all day.
They were in a long-running competition to see who could take the most outlandish selfie in class without getting caught, and it was the only game of theirs where Catra had the undeniable edge. Last year during a terribly boring physics test, she’d suspended three pencils, four pens, and 68 paper clips in her hair. Adora later admitted that she’d faked a coughing fit and ducked out of her English class because she was laughing so hard.
Without Adora to distract her, Catra remembered just how much she hated school. Overeager kids like Kyle raised their hands for every question in a pathetic ploy to score brownie points right off the bat. Some teachers pretended that they cared about more than standardized test scores. Others liked to crack down early and assign extra homework. Catra was sure they got a pay bonus for every student’s spirit they crushed. It was just the way things were at Hordak Academy, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do to change that.
Catra spent the last period of the day trapped in study hall, where she definitively decided that her schedule was cursed. Students could get out of study halls if they made the honor roll, but that list was limited to eight people a quarter. No way Catra was going to be one of them. That meant that for the rest of the year, she would have to sit at school for an unnecessary forty-five minutes at the end every single day. So there she was: feet on the table, homework abandoned, and bored out of her mind.
Across the table, Scorpia was very focused on turning her own geometry assignment into a paper hat.
Catra quickly lost interest in watching Scorpia fold and unfold until each crease was perfect. She stared at her phone, willing it to ping even if it got her in trouble.
“Catra,” Scorpia whispered. It was more of a stage whisper, really, and a loud one at that. The study hall supervisor at the front of the library shushed her immediately.
To Catra’s chagrin, that wasn’t enough to deter her gregarious table mate.
“Catra,” Scorpia repeated, barely quieter.
Catra just glared.
“Aw, someone’s a grumpy kitty.” With a big goofy smile, Scorpia reached out and placed the paper hat on top of Catra’s unruly mane. Scorpia gasped and covered her mouth.
“What?” Catra said, suddenly self-conscious. She plucked the hat from her head.
“You look adorable.”
Catra felt a pang in her chest. The word choice only reminded her that she hadn’t heard from or seen her best friend all day.
Scorpia scooted her chair closer to Catra’s with several short squeaks, earning her another reprimand from the study hall supervisor. Again, Scorpia was unfazed. She sidled up to Catra. “What’s gotcha down?”
“Nothing,” Catra growled.
“You know, people assume I’m a Scorpio because, well, you know, but I’m actually...a Pisces.” She delivered the last two words as if it were a secret that mattered. “We’re outstanding listeners.”
Unable to spend another moment in the stuffy, overbearing library, Catra stood abruptly and slung her backpack over one shoulder. “I need to pee,” she muttered.
The study hall supervisor hissed after her as she left. “No one is dismissed until--”
“Gotta change my tampon,” Catra said without pause.
Anxious to breathe in some air that didn’t taste like moldy old books, she took the shortest possible route out of the building. She checked her phone...still half an hour left in last period. Adora could have been trapped in some horrible biology lecture on proteins--or worse, gym. Structured workouts were just about the most dreadful thing in the world as far as Catra was concerned. The inevitable springtime swimming unit, the worst part of physical education besides the innuendo-addled name of the class. Playing on a sports team was plenty of exercise. Why did they have to double up?
Once, Adora had told Catra that she actually enjoyed endlessly running laps around the field during gym. It helped her think. Catra teased her about it, telling Adora that there were plenty of other physically engaging ways to relax. The joke had, of course, gone right over Adora’s head. Wonderful, oblivious Adora. Where the hell was she?
Catra knew that loitering outside of the library wasn’t going to do her any good, so she unlocked her phone and sent a quick text demanding her best friend’s presence.
Catra (2:34 pm) - im ditching meet me by the bike racks
She pondered for a moment, then sent another message.
Catra (2:34 pm) - nerd
She scrolled back up through her conversation with Adora, and it did nothing to ease her worry.
Catra (8:23 am) - oh my god
Catra (8:23 am) - world history sucks so much ass
Catra (8:24 am) - i’m gonna eat my SHOE stop me
She laughed when she got a picture of herself with her hair tied into a beard.
Catra (9:46 am) - let the selfie games being
Catra (9:48 am) - begin* sorry got distracted by my own raw talent
Catra (12:10 pm) - 5th period lunch???
Catra (12:46 pm) - i had to sit with kyle at lunch and i have zero classes with u this quarter is officially hexed
Catra (2:16 pm) - im trapped in study hall. are you near a fire alarm
Catra (2:19 pm) - at least bring me a snack pls
Catra (2:20 pm) - i’ll pay you back
Catra (2:26 pm) - Adora pls i’m literally DYING
It wasn’t like she was worried about being annoying. They were long past that. Once, she’d awakened to 26 messages and two voicemails from Adora claiming that cauliflower was actually just “ghost broccoli” and shouldn’t be trusted. A few texts over the course of an entire day wasn’t too much. Was it?
Catra walked across campus to the plain metal bicycle racks in front of the main entrance. She waited for around twenty minutes, passing the time by seeing how many times she could throw and catch her phone without dropping it. Forty-six consecutive throws later, her screen shattered.
“Great,” she said. “Aaand now I’m talking to myself. Even better.”
A few minutes later, students released from class early started filing out of the building. Catra perked up. Finally.
She unlocked her bike and pulled it out of the rack. Unfortunately, it looked like Adora wasn’t going to be so lucky as to beat the rush, so Catra searched for her friend’s bike, too. Catra’s lock combination was Adora’s birthday and vice versa. Oddly enough, Adora’s bike was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had last period off and she’d gone home before field hockey practice. She lived close enough to school that she could feasibly make it home and back. Which meant that Catra could make it there and back before practice, too.
Catra wheeled her bike onto the sidewalk and started pedaling.
Ten minutes later, she dropped her bike in the front lawn and ran up to the porch. Just as she was about to knock, the door swung open from the inside.
Adora.
Without even thinking, Catra pounced. She miscalculated the force behind the hug, however, and knocked Adora onto the floor. Despite the impact, she most certainly did not let go.
“Catra, what--”
“I thought you were dead!” Catra explained.
“Wha--why would you think that?”
Catra sat up. She was still straddling Adora’s thighs, but personal space was entirely extinct between them. “Okay, I thought your phone was dead. I texted you, like, a hundred times.”
“Oh,” Adora said. Catra couldn’t quite place her tone, though she recognized it as the same one she’d used when expressing how utterly unexcited she was about being named captain.
“What is up with you? You’ve been acting all weird.”
Adora sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I have to tell you something.”
Catra considered indulging in their usual banter (Well, duh, we tell each other everything) but the gravity in Adora’s voice told her that this wasn’t the right time. The suddenly serious tone only made Catra want to crack a joke even more.
“I know,” Catra started, unable to stop herself. “I look terrible with a beard.”
“Catra,” Adora pleaded.
“What?”
Adora took a deep breath and dropped her arms to her sides.
Where her white-and-red captain’s jersey should have been, Catra saw a fitted, sleeveless crop top.
“Oh my god. You joined cheerleading?”
“No, I...”
Catra looked again. The crop top was blue. Light blue. With a glittering white crescent logo on the chest. “Adora, what the hell?”
Adora refused to meet Catra’s eyes. “I transferred to Bright Moon.”
***