Chapter Text
I never had a choice. Not about anything in my entire life. I didn’t choose to move to the most boring place on Etheria. I abso-fucking-lutely didn’t choose the evil witch of a mother I got. And I didn’t choose to be especially delicious-smelling to you creepy vampires either. So don’t you dare blame me for choosing the one thing I ever got a say about in my pathetic excuse for a life, Adora.
I know you don’t want this. But after everything, you’re not gunna get rid of me so easy. So fine. Maybe you’ll never forgive me. Hate me as much as you want. In fact, you can hate me forever.
One Month Earlier
Bright Moon was the worst place I’d ever been. And look, Shadow Weaver had taken me to some horrifying places. Everything was all—pastel. Bright. Real funny. This place was the rainiest town in Etheria, so I guess this is what passed for humor, here. Nothing but clouds? Let’s cover the airport in glitter. And then the road signs—all round and silvery. Yeah. Moons. Because they never saw the real ones with the never-ending overcast. What was next? Ball-and-chain boomer one-liners? Maybe someone would take pity and drop a moon on me before I got to the high school.
But no, the only disasters for me were the nonfatal variety. And soon enough I was walking through the high school’s pink and purple hallways. It was my first day—starting mid-school year like always, my mother wouldn’t know parental responsibility if it smashed into her stupid face-mask —and I was trying to find something called a “Wellness & Happiness Guide”—jesus christ—and all I could find were signs telling me to Look on the Bright (get it?) Side. One even told me to Smile. Really. What was this? 2005? It was like they had given a four-year-old with especially bad taste the run of the place.
And then a glittery ball of something smacked into me, almost sending me hurtling to the floor.
“I am so, so sorry,” she was saying, patting me down with the coldest hands I’d ever felt. It was freezing for the beginning of March, but still. “I was just—not looking where I was going, and—wow, are you new here?”
Okay, so maybe they had given a gauche toddler free reign here, if this short person were any indication. “Are you for real? How did you almost knock me over? You’re like three feet tall!”
The girl put her hands on her hips. Her pink hair had—yes, glitter in it. “I am not three feet tall.”
“Whatever, Sparkles.” I tried to move passed her, but she stopped me with a hand. The nerve.
“Where do you think you’re going, new girl?”
“Literally anywhere else.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, you’re obviously lost. Where are you trying to go?”
“I said, none of your business.” I tried to brush her hand away but it was like trying to move a car. How could someone so sparkly be this strong? Or was I that weak? Had the bad décor weakened me? I dodged around her arm instead. “I’m sure you can find someone else to harass.”
How’s that for Looking on the Bright Side?
I eventually found the Student Joy Director or whatever. She had flowers in her hair. Real ones, not plastic. She blathered on about my schedule and the importance of making friends and all that until I was desperate to go to class. A first for me. She introduced me to her friend, a girl with red claws and the most open, friendly face I’ve ever seen. She gave me a tour. It was torture.
“—and you can sit with me, here, this is the table I always eat at, if you want to, or you can sit somewhere else, too, whatever you—”
“That’s great, heavyweight,” I said, seeing as the girl was six feet of muscle—at least it would make sense if she had the strength of a tank—“But listen, just show me to—” I glanced at my schedule. “Biology. I think I’ll work out the complexities of the cafeteria myself.”
“Of course!” she said, grinning, all sarcasm lost on her. “You don’t want to be late! You’re the type who actually gets straight As, aren’t you? Even though you act like you don’t care?”
“I get As without trying,” I said. “I don’t have to care. It’s too easy.” What I don’t say is that I’m always doing homework since I don’t have any friends. I mean, both things are true, but the last part’s too sad to say out loud.
“Wow!” she said. “That’s amazing! I have to study for hours, and I still have trouble sometimes!” She laughed, self-deprecating. “Anyway, here it is!” she boomed, even though we were right outside the door to the class that was already in session.
I looked away, embarrassed on her behalf, but the teacher—who also had pink hair, this was like living in a deranged Candyland—just waved at the interruption and said, “Thank you, Scorpia!”
“Good luck, Wildcat!” Scorpia whispered, ushering me into the classroom.
I couldn’t even glare at her for the preemptive nickname before I was forced in front of the classroom, Ms. Spinerella being that most terrible type of teacher who conscripts you into a public introduction.
“I’m Catra.” I looked at the pink-haired teacher in lieu of sparing a glance at the sea of faces in front of me. “Where do I sit?”
“And how about where you’re from?” she prodded. “Hobbies? A fun fact about yourself?”
My mother once left me alone in our apartment for three days while she was out investigating her “magic.” I was eight. “I don’t have anything to say.”
Ms. Spinerella raised her eyebrows. “All right. Go ahead and find an empty seat.”
I took the one in the back next to a blonde girl. I didn’t say hi.
Spinerella seemed to have given up on welcoming me or whatever—that might be a record for me, having someone give up on me within sixty seconds—and was now barreling through the lesson about plant cells.
I really wanted to slouch back in a chair and take a nap, but since we were in a lab and sitting on stools, I had to lean forward and put my head in my hand, instead. I was doodling along the edge of my notebook when I first noticed something weird going on with the girl next to me.
I heard a crunch. I can hear better than a lot of people, and let me tell you, it’s a curse. And not only because everyone calls my ears cute. People are obnoxiously loud, especially when they eat. So I figured she was munching on Cheetos or something. But when I looked over at her to tell her to close her mouth when she chews, she turned her face even further away from me, pretending like something outside the window caught her eye.
I glared at her. She thought she was avoiding me? I was avoiding her first. “Psst,” I said, waving my hand to get her attention.
She pretended like she didn’t hear me, scribbling away in her notebook like she was entranced by mitochondria.
“Hey,” I said, under my breath, leaning in closer to her, “If you’re gunna chomp away on Doritos during class, at least keep your mouth shut.”
She didn’t move at all—nary a hair out of place on her shiny golden ponytail—but I heard the crunching sound again. How was she doing that without moving her jaw? But then I looked down at her hand.
I had thought she was holding onto the edge of the lab bench. When I really looked, I realized it had sunk into the black-coated lab table. Her knuckles were embedded in the wood, so far down that the whole of her hand was below the surface of the table. That was what the crunching sound was? What the hell kind of town was this? Did everyone have super strength?
“How—?” I said, gaping at the hole in the table. “What—?”
She pushed the stool away from the lab bench, and, so fast I couldn’t track the individual movements, was walking out of class. I didn’t even get a good look at her face. I heard her brief: “Feeling sick, Ms. Spinerella,” before she shot out of the room.
I stared at the imprint in the lab bench to my left. I could see the shape of each of her fingers in the wood. Had I actually lost my mind? Was I as bad as Shadow Weaver? I reached over to fit my own fingers in the indentation. It remained solid, splintering under my touch. I hissed as a jagged bit pierced my skin. Bright red blood beaded up from the pad of my index finger. Well. As good an excuse as any.
I raised my hand. “Ms. Spinerella, I’m bleeding,” I said as pitifully as I could, showing her the tiny cut, “can I go to the nurse?”
She gave me a skeptical look, like she hadn’t just let Thor girl leave without blinking.
“The sight of blood makes me faint,” I lied, turning my head away from my hand.
She sighed. “Go ahead. Hurry back, Catra.”
“Aye, aye.” I left with a lazy salute, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and almost running out of the classroom.
I jogged, no particular direction, blood pumping, more light-headed the more I thought about whatever had just happened. Maybe I would faint. That was seriously, hugely weird. People couldn’t do that, could they? Was she on drugs? But still—a wooden table? No way.
I found her by accident. I didn’t have any intention of tracking her down—I had just wanted to get out, but the school was so small that I happened to hear her. She was in the administrative office.
My hand grasped the doorknob when I heard her voice again. “Can I please get switched into any other biology class, please?” she was saying. Begging. I paused, shocked and then furious.
I was used to people hating me. So sure, some perfect blonde girl loathes me? Good for me. But even people who loathe me don’t usually leave class to escape my presence. And they definitely don’t run off to ensure that they’d never have to see me again. I didn’t care how strong she was. This was just rude.
I swung open the door. “I’m looking for the nurse’s office,” I said breezily, holding up my finger but looking at the blonde, expecting her to at least seem ashamed that I had overheard her disrespecting me.
I watched her zero in first on my face, and then on my raised, lightly bleeding finger. Her eyes went comically wide, shocked and then horrified. I was so surprised by her bizarre reaction that I could do nothing but stare at her.
Also, she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. Like over-the-top movie star looks. Her irises were so black that it almost looked like they were just big pupils. Somehow, that worked for her. Even here, under the fluorescents. Not that that mattered.
She clapped a hand over her nose and mouth—and okay, maybe my first instinct was to tell her not to hide the sight of her face, sue me—and said, “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.”
The lady at the desk leaned forward. “Adora, honey, you okay?”
This weird girl—Adora, I guess—backed away, one foot, then the other.
The retreat is what jolted me out of my own paralysis. “What is your problem with me?” I demanded.
She didn’t seem to hear either of us. She was still staring at me in something like terror. I liked putting people in their place, but this was stupid.
I took a step toward her. “I didn’t do anything to you. Now you’re changing class?”
Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled through her own palm.
I took another step toward her. Her eyes shifted down, looking at my—neck? That almost threw me, but I was so mad that I barreled ahead, getting all the way into her face. “I get it if you don’t like me, but you don’t have to treat me like I’m garbage.”
Adora scrunched her eyes closed, but didn’t move further away. “Please stay away from me,” she said, hand still covering her nose and mouth. She opened her eyes again, and they were unfocused, still looking down, not meeting my eyes. There was a moment where I didn’t know what was going to happen, oddly charged, something coiled and ready in one or both of us. But then she looked back up at me, the tense moment broken. Her black, shining eyes went even wider in fear. She was clenching her fists so hard she might break her fingers. Her whole body was trembling.
It was the fear that stopped me. She was scared of me. That hurt. I knew what it was like to be scared. I was well aware that I wasn’t the best person to be around. I snapped at people, I lashed out. I was mean and selfish. But nobody had ever looked at me with that kind of fear before. I didn’t want anybody to look at me like that.
I backed up. “Okay, yeah, whatever,” and I left, cursing this girl for making me feel like the one person I never wanted to be.
Anyone who would think the day wouldn’t get worse doesn’t know much about my life.
The rest of the school day was a blur. I would have skipped if I knew anywhere better to go, but as it was I had no reason to risk somebody telling Shadow Weaver about my truancy. Scorpia found me in the cafeteria for lunch, but I waved her off and ate by myself. If the earlier interaction with that blonde had taught me anything, it was that I was better off on my own. The only good part of the day was when I got to get back in my beloved red pick-up truck, blissfully alone for ten whole minutes.
Shadow Weaver was waiting for me in the kitchen when I got home. The tea kettle screeched as I walked through the front door, a fitting soundtrack for any scene starring my mother. I tried to sneak by without her noticing. Unfortunately, right around the time I started to prefer the neglect to any other interaction, Shadow Weaver started paying more attention to me.
“Are you really going to slink away without saying anything,” Shadow Weaver said, “or are you going to tell me what you learned at that princess school?”
This kind of attention. She always talked to me like I was a servant who’d kept her waiting for too long. She sounded bored, vaguely irritated, and yet her words commanded me to stop, turn around, face her. Outright ignoring her yielded the worst results. I knew from a lifetime of experience.
I thought about her phrasing. Huh. Princess school. So Shadow Weaver hated the goody-goody vibe of this town as much as I did. “What you’d expect, really.” I pulled a kitchen chair out to sit on it backwards, earning the scowl I could see only through the slit of her mask. Shadow Weaver’s face was all messed up from some accident—I had only seen it a handful of times, and I hoped I would never have to see that ugly mug again. She always wore the mask now, only her eyes visible underneath. She didn’t need more than that to make her feelings about me clear.
Shadow Weaver waited, disdain evident in her every miniscule move. She sat, taking her cup of hot water with her to the table. She poured some neon green dust into it. It fizzed and bubbled when it hit the water, turning the contents into a sickly lime goop. Of course it wasn’t tea. Silly me, thinking she was doing something not completely fucking insane for once.
I sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say, it’s a school. This one more—pink than usual. So what? Nothing abnormal, or whatever.” I looked away, annoyed at myself for feeling guilty about the lie. I didn’t owe her the truth. Was that Adora girl—or her super strength—what Shadow Weaver had always been after?
Shadow Weaver had always told me that she did magic. The ravings of a madwoman, right? She usually brought up the magic to threaten me—telling me she could see what I was doing no matter where I was, or that she would know if I was lying to her. Stuff like that. When I was little, I believed it. But as I grew up as a logical person with a brain, I realized that magic didn’t exist and Shadow Weaver was just making up stuff to keep me in line.
What was weird was that as I got older, she never changed her story. If anything she got more obsessed with her “sorcery.” It was why we moved around so much. She would grill me about each new place, if I saw anything weird. Sometimes she’d even have me go looking for “spell components.” I’d thought for years these were just bizarre ways to harass me, but now I had to wonder.
“How is it,” Shadow Weaver said, staring into her neon goo. I tensed, used to this slow, scornful tone. “That you could still be so useless after all these years I’ve spent training you?”
“There wasn’t anything weird,” I said through my teeth. “There never is. You’re just a crazy old lady.”
“So that’s how you talk to the woman who has given you everything.” She slid the fizzing cup toward me. “Drink.”
“What?” I sat upright, taking my elbows off the back of the chair I was straddling. “No way. I don’t want your gross—whatever that is. Are you trying to poison me?”
Shadow Weaver breathed through her nose. “Everything I’ve done is to help you become stronger, Catra. Don’t you understand that?”
I looked at her, searching for—something. For what I’ve always searched for in her face. “What is it?” I said, eventually, nodding at the cup.
“There are forces at play in this town that you have no hope of understanding,” Shadow Weaver said. “This potion will help you to… fit in.”
“That’s not an answer,” I said, swallowing. I hitched my backpack up on my shoulders, trying to steel my resolve.
“It’s all the answer you need today,” she said, eyes flicking down to the cup in clear command.
The exhausted, scared part of me that was always trying to please Shadow Weaver demanded I do it. I considered it. But I was growing tired of going along with her schemes without her giving me even the smallest amount of respect. And I was thinking of that moment in front of the receptionist’s desk, of that strange girl’s fear of me. The idea of ingesting something Shadow Weaver concocted, of becoming just that little bit more like her, disgusted me more than usual.
“No,” I said, and stood. “I don’t need it. I’ll look out for anything weird,” I said, a gesture toward obedience to assuage the anger I knew would come.
Her silence was almost as bad as her words. I felt her watching me all the way up the staircase, as I got ready for bed, and even in my dreams. The unease stayed with me all night long, and I woke up in the morning when I heard Shadow Weaver leave. The feeling of danger remained. I knew one thing for sure: Bright Moon wasn’t all smiles and glitter.