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Year One: Cafeteria.
It’s raining. Outside is unpleasant and grey. The sun’s disappeared behind the main building. The cafeteria is mostly empty. A cold breeze occasionally slips through the cracks in the old window panes, which is why Ashe is sitting right next to the heaters, pressing her legs against the warm steel. She’s wrapped up in a traditional knit sweater that her aunt made last Christmas.
Her hand tightens around the pencil as she tries to write down her thoughts as quickly as possible. She has several reports she needs to finish today. Then there’s the essays and that ten-page text she has to read which is about the discovery of oil off the coast of Norway.
Dead, brown leaves crash against the window. Ashe stops scratching her pencil against the paper. She looks up, catching sight of the weather shifting drastically from bad to worse. The wind has picked up now. The pitter-patter rattles as it hits the glass.
Ashe puts the pencil down and leans back in the chair, stretching and yawning. The lamp above her flickers every now and then. It’s quarter to four in the afternoon. She and her friend, Sejuani, had originally been sitting in the library, but it closes every day at three thirty, so they had to move.
It’s quiet, which is good —which means Ashe can concentrate on getting most of her schoolwork done in one session so she doesn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the week. She spends her Tuesdays and Thursdays in the cafeteria, trying to get done as much as possible. She’s busy most of the time otherwise, well actually, she likes to keep herself busy; likes to stay behind after all her classes have finished because she doesn’t like being at home alone.
Grena, Ashe’s mother, is always doing something. Always late, or possibly forgotten about something. It often means she’s barely stepped over the threshold when she suddenly realises she has to go back to the office and doesn’t come back until two hours later.
On Mondays Ashe has archery practice right after school and she likes to trek up the hill because she likes walking through the park that sits on a slanted incline to get to the shooting range. There’s this old, bent over birch tree that resembles an ancient archway that she has to duck under every time. After archery practice, Ashe likes to sit by the fountain while she eats the rest of her lunch and doesn’t go home until she knows Grena’s back from the office.
Wednesdays and Fridays are the same for Ashe: She has biathlon practice up at the ski stadium. Sejuani does biathlon as well, and Sejuani’s grandmother always drives them up to the stadium, except in the summer because then they take the bus.
Sejuani’s walking towards her now, swinging that water bottle of hers around by a string that might snap at any moment. She’s taller than Ashe, and has hair closer to silver than gold. They’re in the same year and class and have been inseparable ever since Ashe moved to this new place.
Ashe looks down at her report, then grimaces and pushes it to the side.
«Got you a chocolate bar from the vending machine.» Sejuani says as she slams the chocolate onto the table, then sinks into the seat across from Ashe.
«Thanks.» Ashe mumbles, reaching for the snack. «I could do with the sugar.»
Sejuani hums. «You look tired.»
Ashe laughs. «That’s because I am.» She unwraps the chocolate, then takes a bite. She stretches out her arm, offering some to Sejuani. «It feels like I’ve been writing the same report for the past half hour.»
Sejuani takes a bite, still chewing when she speaks. «I ran into a group.» She slides the chocolate back over towards Ashe.
«What kind of group?» Ashe frowns.
«I think they got kicked out of the PC lab for being too loud.» Sejuani says as she slings her bag onto the table, making the tabletop wobble. She yanks the bottom of her bag, making textbooks and notepads tumble across the surface.
Ashe leans in closer. Her voice a whisper now: «Are they coming here?»
«Hopefully not.» Sejuani searches through her pile of books, but then the doors to the cafeteria suddenly slide open. Laughter and loud footfall echoes through the near-empty cafeteria.
«Speak of the devil.» Sejuani mumbles, annoyed, as she turns to look over her shoulder.
Three girls (and who knew it took only three girls to fill up an entire cafeteria with boisterous laughter?) come strolling into the room with their bags slung coolly over their shoulders and their hands shoved deep into their pockets.
Ashe recognises the one with black hair because she ended up in line behind her when she had to pick up her textbooks at the beginning of the year. Samira was it? Not that it mattered, of course. She takes a deep breath, then bites the inside of her lip to keep her annoyance at bay. It doesn’t work because these girls are loud. She doesn’t recognise the other two, but makes an effort to remember them anyway; the one with short hair and heavy eyeliner who actually looks like she’s trying to work. Then there’s the redhead who keeps turning over a box of snus in her hand. She slams it onto the table, pops the lid off, and nudges a small white pouch into the side of her mouth. Ashe grimaces and rolls her eyes.
The other girls are sitting far away, at the other end of the room, but it feels like they’re right behind Ashe, so Ashe occasionally turns to look over her shoulder, hoping one of them catches sight of her.
Apparently, they’re all first year students —at least that’s what Sejuani says. But they’re in different classes, and thank god for that because Ashe thinks she’d lose her mind if she had to be in the same room as them for an entire day, five days a week.
They’re shouting at each other, throwing around scrunched up pieces of paper.
Ashe slams her textbook down, then quickly turns, twisting her body, making the chair screech across the floorboards. She tries to get the redhead’s attention because she seems to be the loudest, but instead Ashe makes eye contact with Samira. Ashe raises her chin defiantly, then presses a finger to her lips.
They’re quiet now, and Samira’s desperately nudging the other girls by the elbow, pointing discreetly in Ashe’s direction.
Ashe raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t linger because they’re finally quiet and she can focus on the report that’s been giving her a headache for the past half hour. She turns right before the redhead gives her a lopsided grin and shows her the middle finger.
*
Year Two: Biology
There’s something awfully depressing about the dead fish staring up at her. It has nothing to do with the horrible snowfall happening right outside the window, or the terrible bleakness of the classroom.
Sarah —Ashe’s biology partner, nudges the fish with her eraser.
«Don’t…» Ashe’s voice fades as she looks at the fish’s eyes again. Lifeless. Its mouth hangs open. She can see the slime reflecting off the grey scales. They’d looked at a sheep’s lungs the month before, which hadn’t bothered Ashe at all, certainly not the blood or the smell, but there’s something different about having a dead, empty eye staring up at you from a metal tray.
Ashe squirms, feeling a shiver running down her spine. She quickly grabs Sarah by the wrist and shakes her head. «Please stop doing that, Sarah.»
«What?» Sarah looks at her, confused, then drops the eraser. «I’m not hurting it. It’s already dead, Ashe.» She tries to remind her.
«You don’t have to poke it like that.» Ashe grits her teeth. The fish keeps looking at her.
«You freaked out by it?» Sarah turns to her fully, resting her hand on the back of Ashe’s chair.
«No!» Ashe exclaims, sticking out her tongue and pushing Sarah away.
The teacher pauses just as he’s about to place a fish on another student’s dissecting tray and looks in Ashe and Sarah’s direction.
Ashe half expects the fish to jump to life; for it to squirm and jiggle in her teacher’s gloved hand. But it doesn’t. It just hangs there, limp, between the teacher’s fingers.
He frowns, then tilts his head. «Squeamish, Ashe?» He says, and the whole class laughs.
Ashe sinks into her chair, her cheeks burn red, and she just wants to disappear.
As soon as the teacher has finished handing out the fish, people stand, chairs screech across the floor, and everyone heads to the other side of the classroom where aprons, boxes of gloves and safety goggles are.
Ashe stands as well. She tries to not look at the fish on her desk, and she tries to avoid all the other fish as well. She feels like she’s stuck in an aquarium. She’s too slow: By the time she makes it to the other side of the classroom all the good gear is gone. All that’s left are the aprons with broken strings. All the small gloves are gone and only the XL or XXL are left, and the only goggles in the box are the ones with either snapped straps or straps that’ve been pulled too loose.
She tries to pick out the best ones and makes her way back to her desk. The fish is waiting for Ashe, following her movements with its dark eye, and at this point Ashe feels like flinging it across the classroom, or maybe out the window.
There’s a squabble over the scalpels. Sarah’s arguing with another girl over a specific one. Something about sharpness. And now the teacher’s involved, trying to make Sarah let go of the box of scalpels.
Ashe sighs and focuses on putting on her apron, which is a struggle because the strings aren’t long enough to tie together, so she ends up tying each end into her belt loops. She puts on the safety goggles, but they keep sliding down. She fiddles with them, pushing them back up, but eventually gives up with a huff and puts on the oversized gloves.
The goggles fall back down again, and this time her bangs fall over her eyes. Her gloves are too big so she can’t grip the goggles properly. She can’t see clearly either and uses the next seconds to constantly brush her bangs out of the way. Ashe swears quietly to herself.
«Didn’t know you could swear.» A voice behind her says.
Ashe freezes. There’s a specific type of raspiness to the voice, and Ashe may have an idea of who it is (much to Ashe’s dismay). But when she tries to turn around, she feels a hand on her shoulder.
«Hold still, will you?» The voice hisses. «I’m doing you a favour.»
She occasionally feels a hand in her hair, brushing loose strands out of the way. Ashe holds the goggles in place, pressing a gloved hand against her face, while the person behind her struggles to tighten the strap.
When Ashe slowly lowers her hand, she realises the goggles are finally staying in place. She turns to thank the person who’d helped her, but the words die on her tongue and she quickly closes her mouth.
A flash of red and green.
Katarina Du Couteau?
Ashe blinks. Suddenly Katarina is no longer standing in front of her and is sitting at the other end of the classroom with her back to Ashe. Ashe does linger this time, frowning as she slowly sits back down. There’s something about Katarina that Ashe doesn’t really understand: She doesn’t even know why Katarina’s taking biology, considering all of Katarina’s modules are more sports-aligned (it’s worth mentioning that Ashe only knows this because Sejuani is in the same classes as Katarina —not because Ashe cares about Katarina and what she’s doing).
She bites the inside of her cheek and takes a deep breath.
The fish is looking at Ashe again, and Ashe quickly covers its eye with her report paper.
*
Year Three: Russedåp / Russ-baptism (or russ inauguration)
It’s late April. All the snow’s almost gone. Ashe is standing with the people in her russ-group for the long-awaited inauguration ceremony. Everyone who’s graduating this year has gathered by a popular bathing spot. There’s a bridge that runs above the water that people use for diving in the summer. The wooden steps down to the water are often used as a sunbathing area.
But it’s too early for sun.
Ashe is wearing her blue russedress, which she spent weeks designing. She’s also got on a puffer jacket, having buried her chin in the collar in an attempt to combat the cold wind. She’s stuffed her hands in her pockets and is trying her best to keep her legs from shaking.
Most people are wearing red onesies, but that’s because most people aren’t sure what they’re going to study at university, so red’s a safe option. The only reason Ashe is wearing blue (as well as the rest of her group, because god forbid the colours mix) is because she took the social economy module in her last year, which means she’s earned the right to wear blue —which really just means she might study finance at university.
Nothing’s set in stone. At least, that’s if Ashe gets her way. Unfortunately, Grena’s already decided the future for her. Politics. Work her way up the ladder. Start with the small districts, then work her way into the bigger cities, which doesn’t sound very exciting. Ashe isn’t quite sure how to bring it up to her mother that she isn’t too eager about the plans for her future.
Ashe sighs. She’s trying her best to pay attention, to look forward to this coming month, because it’s supposed to be important. At least that’s what everyone keeps saying. Ashe had been excited, she really had been, but now all of those difficult feelings are sitting jumbled up inside her.
She isn’t sure what made her change her mind. Maybe the price of things? The van she bought with her friends? What about her exams? She’ll have to make room for all the partying, which she isn’t keen on, and perhaps this way of thinking is part of the problem because what sort of russ is Ashe if she’s not excited about parties and bottomless drinks?
A member of the russ-committee is holding a speech —well, trying to. It’s not really a speech. They’re just speeding through a list of official knots for Ashe’s district. She already knows she’s not going to be able to complete most of them. She’ll be happy with three —three she can manage. Donate blood. Donate to cancer research. Get a meningitis shot. Easy. There are more for charity, but Ashe has already forgotten them.
Everyone cheers suddenly, throwing their arms up and rushing towards the water. Ashe stupidly begins to clap, then slaps her hand against her forehead in embarrassment.
Another crowd forms down by the water. Someone’s brought along several speakers and the music thrums around Ashe. The celebration is picking up and now they’ve gotten to the naming ceremony, which is when you get your nickname written on your skipper hat, and the name is given to you by your russ group. It doesn’t mean anything, but everyone pretends it does.
Take a shot. Bite into a lime. Dunk yourself in water.
Nothing is ever too serious, and nothing’s forced, but these moments do seem to matter. After all, it is still high school. And that’s why Ashe decides to stay, but that doesn’t mean she looks forward to it. She feels a knot forming in her stomach. She looks at her friends; at Sejuani who’s also in a blue russedress with much bolder and gutsier designs.
«How long do we have to wait?» Ashe asks, but the crowd drowns out her voice.
Sejuani mouths something, then points to her ear.
Ashe gives her a tight-lipped smile and shakes her head. She turns back to the ceremony and watches as Katarina Du Couteau’s turn rolls around.
It annoys Ashe slightly, because Katarina’s been sitting at the back of her mind for the past months now. Katarina’s traded in the snus for cigarettes, and Ashe can see the outline of a pack in Katarina’s pocket. Katarina’s on the russ committee (of course she is), and has been involved with all of the events leading up to May. Monday was reverse gender day and everyone was expected to dress up as the opposite gender, and Ashe just decided to wear a cap backwards, but then Sejuani had used a permanent marker to draw a goatee on Ashe’s chin. On Wednesday they had to all wear pink, and Ashe wore a pink cardigan. Last Friday was Halloween in April, and Ashe had ended up wearing a pointy witch’s hat.
The most annoying thing about Katarina is that she keeps popping up on all of Ashe’s social media, not that Ashe spends a lot of time online, but all of her friends post about the russ-events, and Katarina is somehow always in the middle of everything. So it’s really no surprise that Katarina’s been on her mind recently.
Ashe feigns interest and is unsurprised when Katarina downs the shot with ease, bites into the lime and someone pours water over her head. Then she’s given a name; and Katarina is now… Katanova —a play on Casanova?
Ashe has to stifle her laugh, because she suddenly imagines all of Katarina’s horrible pick-up lines, and how they could work on anyone is a mystery to Ashe.
Never. There’s nothing about Katarina that Ashe is drawn to. Wait. Maybe her eyes. And how her back looks in a tight t-shirt. But that’s it. Katarina just doesn’t care enough about things and Ashe has to thoroughly think things through. So of course it makes sense that they’ve never spoken, or that Katarina has approached everyone except her. Ashe certainly isn’t bitter about it. In fact, she’s relieved because she simply can’t imagine doing anything with Katarina, nor can she imagine any sort of conversation with her because what could Katarina possibly say that would be interesting?
It’s Ashe’s turn now. She’s been thinking too much and slowly makes her way through the crowd, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to make sure Sejuani and her group haven’t deserted her.
First the shot. Come on, Ashe, make an effort. She closes her eyes as the plastic cup presses against her lip. She throws her head back and feels her throat burn. Next the lime. She isn’t sure who hands it to her, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s bitter and Ashe grimaces. Ashe gasps when she feels the icy cold water running down her spine, making her t-shirt cling to her back.
She shivers, running towards her group, but then the speaker calls her back, telling her she’s forgotten her hat.
Ashe wants to bury herself as she makes the embarrassing walk back. She keeps her head down, and she knows when she’s passed by Katarina because Katarina’s got this ridiculous red russedress that is obviously meant to offend.
She grabs the hat from the speaker’s hands and doesn’t linger. She quickly finds her group as the name Ice Queen echoes behind her.