Work Text:
Vi stops the ball with a controlled touch of her right foot, sending a brief thud through the air.
She doesn't hesitate, immediately pushing forward, mind focused as she gets closer to the goal box. A drop of sweat beads on her forehead, streaking down her temple—but her brow furrows just in time to keep it from stinging her eye.
"Yo, Vi!" Deckard—son of a bitch —shouts.
Without missing a beat, Vi pushes the ball ahead and flicks it toward Deckard. She trots forward, her eyes locked on the goal. Deckard intercepts the ball with his foot, redirecting it towards Mylo. Mylo takes off, his legs gaining speedity, determination painted across his face.
Vi darts toward the goalie's box, calling out over her shoulder.
"Mylo! Over here!"
But Mylo doesn't respond. Instead, he barrels forward, ball at his feet, clearly intent on doing it alone.
"Mylo!" Vi's voice rises, frustration creeping into her tone. Her eyes narrow, willing him to pass.
Still, Mylo ignores her, running in zigzag to evade an oncoming defender.
He aims for the goal but his focus slips. He swings his foot too early, the ball deviating to the side. He stumbles, his foot catching awkwardly in the grass.
Before anyone can react, he faceplants into the grass with a soft thud.
The sound of half the team bursting into laughter fills the air, Mylo groaning as he picks himself up, wiping the dirt off his school uniform, his face flushed with embarrassment.
He shoots a glare at the laughing teammates, raising a middle finger in the air.
“ Fuck off ,” he grunts.
The school bell rings, and all the other players grab their backpacks, running back inside the building before classes start. Two teammates tap Vi’s left shoulder with pride before giving Mylo a dirty look as he rises to his feet.
Vi approaches him, visibly frustrated.
"What the fuck, dude? I was right there, why didn't you pass it over?"
Mylo ignores the reprimand in order to take a look at the mess his shirt and shorts are, his entire front covered in dirt.
"Oh, man, dad's going to kill me for this," he mutters under his breath.
"Of fucking course he's going to kill you, he worked double shifts to get us all these uniforms and you fucking ruined it."
"I can wash it myself, he won't notice."
"I'm gonna need popcorn for this one," Claggor says, bringing with him everyone's backpacks.
Vi takes hers with a quick motion.
"Why didn't you pass it over?" she demands.
"Because Jenny Sinclair was watching me, okay? I needed to impress her."
"You definitely did by falling face-first into the ground."
"Shut up, Clag!"
"Jenny Sinclair has a boyfriend, dumbass," Vi says, rolling her eyes. "You really think she'd choose you over him?"
"Now you're just being a dick."
"Delusional," Claggor says in a singing tone.
Mylo punches him in the shoulder before taking his bag with him.
"I'm gonna prove both of you wrong, motherfuckers!"
"Yeah, good luck with that, gravity victim."
"Shut up!"
By now, the field is completely empty, save for the three siblings and a few other teammates who are either still picking up their stuff, or talking to the coach.
Oh, and a certain blue-haired girl, silently watching them from the stands.
"Your princess' still here, Vi," Claggor says.
Her brow furrows, eyes narrowing. She turns around, looks back at the stands and catches sight of the girl sitting there, notepad resting on her lap, looking expectantly at Vi and her siblings. Her hair is tied up high in a ponytail.
It’s pretty. She’s pretty. Although she must know that already. Vi doesn’t need to voice it out loud.
"Shut up."
At the realization that she's been— finally —seen, Caitlyn raises a shy hand in their direction, waving politely. She waves back.
"You guys go ahead, I'll catch you later," Vi says.
Mylo blows a raspberry, rolling his eyes. He grabs his backpack, patting Claggor on the back.
"Can't believe Vi got a girlfriend before me ."
"Shut the fuck up, asshole," she hisses, punching him in the chest before heading in the opposite direction.
Caitlyn's not her girlfriend. Nor anyone’s girlfriend, as far as Vi knows. Not that it’s Vi’s business, anyway.
She’s only sitting there at every match because of her stupid essay about the social aspects of football and how being part of a team in a sport helps to develop better communication skills and grows the ability to interact with people.
Or whatever. Vi wasn’t really paying that much attention when Caitlyn explained it to her. She has better things to focus on, rather than some pretty girl and her stupidly interesting essay.
Upon getting closer, Caitlyn smiles at her. Vi’s belly does a weird twist at it. Probably shouldn’t have eaten such a big breakfast before practice.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” Caitlyn says. “Is Mylo okay?”
Vi bats an arm in dismissal. “He’s fine, he’s just a dumbass.”
She’s wearing her school uniform and her shoes, white socks catching her attention.
“What happened to the weird socks?” Vi asks.
Not that she’s curious to know. Not at all.
Caitlyn’s face falls.
“Mother has a business meeting this afternoon, and I’m supposed to go with her. She said I should dress accordingly. Besides, she said I shouldn’t provoke authorities at school over uniform violation.”
“That means no weird socks with cringy patterns that are totally meant to be made fun of?” Vi teases, looking all smug and cool with her new sneakers and football shorts. She just played an awesome match and looked cool in front of this girl who Vi’s not interested at all in impressing. Nope. This is just her looking to boost her ego a little.
Caitlyn doesn’t bite. Nodding with a poker face.
“Yes, exactly,” she mutters, almost robotically.
Vi wants to make fun of her.
Say something along the lines of maybe now I’ll stop making fun of your weird sense of fashion that I don’t actually dislike or hey, we should go get ice cream together cause, y’know, you’re like twenty percent cool, or whatever .
Says neither of those because that’s where the line’s been established in Vi’s head. Caitlyn only stays for a few minutes after every match to chat. Nothing else.
Instead, she witnesses the subtle change in her features, the mask falling off to let the sorrow be present in Caitlyn’s eyes. And Vi decides to change that.
“They’re cool,” she says in return.
More like stutters, but surely Caitlyn won’t notice it while navigating her sad vibe. The blue-haired looks up, a frown for a silent question.
“The socks,” Vi says as an explanation. “They’re weird. I like weird…things.”
I like you.
God, shut up.
Pathetic.
Do not say anything like that out loud.
Caitlyn’s face turns brighter.
“You do?” she asks, hopeful.
“Yeah, the colors are…” just shut up, Vi , “creative. I guess,” she mumbles, looking down at her feet.
“Oh, thank you!” Caitlyn says, tooth-gap in full display. “Mother thinks they’re childish, but I enjoy wearing them so, so much. They’re very soft and sometimes my shoes hurt my feet so it’s nice to get extra protection. I plan on asking Jayce to accompany me to the mall next weekend so I can get more of them.”
Jayce; Progress Boy according to only the entire world except for Caitlyn, who sees him as just Jayce. Caitlyn’s family have been sponsoring him for years now, all the weird and science-y projects he’s been working on along with his partner, who Caitlyn is very firm on believing he’s in love with.
To Caitlyn, Jayce is her only friend. Best friend, in fact. Besides Vi, of course. But she’s not about to confess that to her. Caitlyn’s already friendly enough without the knowledge that Vi does, in fact, see her as amiable.
“Of course, I ought to check if he’s not busy first, last time I suggested to meet up he had mountains of work to do, and he’s actually due for a presentation next week, which I agreed to help him with—”
She stops herself. Vi looks up, expectant.
“Sorry, I went off topic,” Caitlyn says, a light shade of pink invading her cheeks.
“No, it’s fine,” Vi says, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.
She actually enjoys hearing her talk. Rather a lot. Even when she gets excited about the topic. Especially when she gets excited about the topic.
“I could help with that,” Vi says, because her mind and mouth can’t cooperate to properly function around Caitlyn Kiramman of all people.
Why would you offer that?
You’re not friends friends, shut up.
Caitlyn’s brow furrows, “…with Jayce’s presentation?”
Who would help a grown ass man with a boring presentation?
“No. With the other thing. The…socks thing,” she says awkwardly.
It feels strangely foreign to offer that, but Vi does so anyway. Because why not? Caitlyn’s chill. And Vi likes chill, for a change of pace.
“Oh, uhm…” Caitlyn says, trailing off.
“You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s—”
“I mean, it’s not like we’re—friends.”
“Right, no, I mean—”
“And Progress Boy is probably better company than me,” Vi murmurs, gaze fixed on the now so interesting pair of sneakers.
“I’d like that!” Caitlyn says, voice louder than she probably meant to. Then, lowering her voice. “I’d like it, if you could go with me.”
Vi blinks, face growing slightly warm. Must be the sun hitting the back of her neck or something.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Hm.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
“I mean, super cool. Or—yeah. Yeah.”
The grin plastered on Vi’s face must be so fucking obvious. Even to her.
“So, uh, Saturday cool with you?” Vi asks, just to check this wasn’t a dream her mind made up to play tricks on her.
Caitlyn nods. Seems equally happy about it.
Huh .
“Two P.M. at the bus stop?”
“Yeah, sure,” Vi says.
“Then it’s settled,” Caitlyn declares.
As Vi walks back inside the school building, all that she can think of is:
Fuck .
//
It all starts because Mylo is a fucking brat who can’t stand to get anything but middle-child treatment. All the fucking time.
There are only like, three girls who actually sit down at the stands during practice, and the three of them are only there to watch their respective boyfriends. Still, Mylo insisted that Vi and Claggor should join him in some of the matches for emotional support, and despite Vi's interesting choice of words in response to that, Vander said not to be mean to Mylo and to agree to what he was asking for.
Of course, when she first started practicing with the team, she hadn’t expected a fourth spectator during their matches. Caitlyn Kiramman might be the most confusing presence at the field; rich Piltie girl with nothing but excellent grades, pestering around the schoolyard to take notes for her literature essay.
At first, she doesn’t interact with anybody, simply pleased to witness the match, take a few notes and leave. But then Vi goes and does what she does better, which is accidentally throwing the ball toward the stands and (very brutally) hitting Caitlyn Kiramman’s perfect face.
Of course, it leads to Vi apologizing to her for almost ruining her perfect nose, which is meant to be an insult on her obviously privileged upbringing, but Caitlyn only smiles in return without any hidden venom behind it, complimenting Vi’s skills on the field even though Vi almost left her noseless in front of half the school.
If Vi blushes at the compliment, that is no one’s but her business.
What is meant to be a one in a lifetime interaction, soon morphs into Caitlyn staying a few minutes after the bell rings just to greet Vi and chat about whatever nonsense rich people do and ends up with Vi never quitting football practice despite signing up because of Mylo.
It never goes farther than that. Just…small interactions with Vi slowly learning more and more about Caitlyn.
Until now.
It’s Thursday and they’re having breakfast.
Vi has an important announcement to make.
“We should go get ice cream on Saturday,” Powder says.
“I have plans on Saturday,” Vi says around a mouthful of cereal, chewing loudly just because.
Powder makes a face.
“Ew, Vi. Gross .”
Mylo and Claggor are sitting on the other side of the table, both still barely awake after staying ‘till one in the morning to play videogames.
Dad’s face lights up in genuine surprise.
“Oh? With who?”
Powder yawns.
Vi passes the hem of her hoodie over her nose awkwardly.
Here goes nothing.
“With, uh, Caitlyn.”
Two things happen at once; first, Powder frowns, lost in the knowledge of who Caitlyn might be. Then, Mylo starts laughing loudly, accidentally choking on his own saliva. Claggor pats his back.
“Who’s Caitlyn?” dad asks.
“Who’s Caitlyn?” Powder asks at the same time.
“That’s Vi’s girlfriend !” Mylo says, loud and annoying and wrong .
Dad's brow furrows.
“Girlfriend?”
“You’re going on a date?” Powder interrupts in an accusatory tone.
“Yeah, Vi, are you going on a date with your girlfriend ?” Mylo mocks.
“It’s not a date and she’s not my girlfriend,” Vi says. Grunts, more like.
“Who’s not your girlfriend?” dad asks, voice louder and serious.
The rest of the table falls into an awkward silence, looking at Vi expectantly. She bites her lip anxiously under the scrutinization, sighing.
“Caitlyn’s just a friend . Barely friends, actually.”
Mylo snorts. “Yeah, they only talk like, every day after practice.”
“Well, that explains why your teacher keeps calling me to let me know you’re always late to class after practice,” dad says.
Vi’s face must be as red as a tomato by this point.
Fuck , she thought she was being discreet.
“Uh…yes? She’s only there because she’s writing an essay about football for one of her classes, nothing else,” she mutters, looking down at her cereal.
Mylo rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going out to do homework.”
“No, we’re going to the mall. She said she wants to get new socks.”
“So, it’s a date?” Claggor asks.
Vi frowns. “No! I already said no, what is wrong with you guys?”
Dad sighs, massaging his temples with the patience of a saint. “Okay, okay, everybody calm down. Let’s leave Vi alone, alright?”
Powder pouts.
“Why? I want to know who Vi’s girlfriend is.”
Vi grunts, getting up from her seat at the table. Vander copies the motion, grabbing his jacket.
“For the last time, she’s not my girlfriend!”
“If you don’t finish your breakfast in the next ten minutes you’ll be taking the bus,” dad screams over the noise, already picking the car keys.
“Yeah, Vi, you don’t want to be late to school to see your girlfriend .”
//
When Saturday arrives, Vi picks her brand-new shorts, her favorite pair of sneakers, and the only hoodie dad didn’t put in the laundry basket, using his usual teenage odor isn’t as disguisable as you think as an excuse.
She’s awkwardly picking at her nails, silently wondering if this was a bad idea as she waits in front of the bus stop.
Maybe Caitlyn changed her mind. Maybe she’s not coming. Vi’s not even that cool to hang out with. She sees Caitlyn walking around the school alone most of the time, except on a few occasions where she’s pestering her teachers; still, doesn’t change the fact that maybe Vi isn’t the company she’s looking for.
She takes a look around the empty street. A random bus passes by.
She’s about to turn around and go back home when the sight of blue hair around the corner stops her in her tracks. There she is, getting out of a black, shiny car with her usual backpack and her smiley face.
“Vi! Hey!” Caitlyn waves, walking rapidly to be by her side.
It’s the beginning of spring, why is it suddenly so hot in the middle of the day?
“Hi,” Vi says, strangely out of breath.
“Hi,” Caitlyn nods. She fidgets with her fingers.
“Hello.”
Already said that one, idiot.
“Shall we?” Caitlyn gestures at the front door of the mall.
Vi nods, smiling shyly.
“Yeah, sure.”
Walking closely behind Caitlyn, Vi wonders what the fuck has she gotten herself into.
//
It goes surprisingly well.
Caitlyn buys an insane amount of cringy socks and then proceeds to explain why math is her least favorite subject at school which has nothing to do with socks, but Vi listens to her anyway because they’re here and she wants to learn things about Caitlyn.
Cringy socks are the type of topic you quickly run out of things to say about. Luckily for Vi, Caitlyn doesn’t get tired of talking.
She goes into an extensive discussion of the importance of funding scientific research, followed by a monologue complaining about her father’s lack of approval of Jayce’s ideas and future projects. Around the end of her furious rant about how unfair it is that she isn’t allowed to compete in the adult’s category for shooting, she starts to quiet down, seemingly realizing something.
“I’m sorry, am I talking too much? Mother often tells me I tend to branch out of topic,” she asks, genuinely worried.
Vi, who has been listening to her for the past twenty minutes with levels of attention she would never dedicate to her French teacher, silently wonders why the fuck anyone would want Caitlyn to stop talking.
The accent must be doing the trick for her, which is honestly pathetic. Vi needs to pull herself together.
“No, no. Keep going,” Vi says in response, nodding in encouragement.
It works, and Caitlyn’s back at pouring all her rapid thoughts.
In return, Vi complains about her teachers, explains the key details to scoring a goal, and tells her about Powder’s most recent project for her computing class.
And Caitlyn listens, listens and listens.
When the shopping tour is over, they end up sitting down on the sidewalk curb with two strawberry milkshakes on hand, sipping comfortably on their drinks. The sun looks big and orange on the horizon and Vi doesn’t want this day to end, doesn’t want to go back home, right where she knows Caitlyn won’t be.
“So, uh, how’s your essay going?” she asks, only to lengthen their time together.
Caitlyn frowns, sips her milkshake with a furrowed brow. She clears her throat.
“Huh?”
“Your essay, about football. For your literature class,” Vi clarifies, even though it felt pretty clear the first time. This girl’s a maniac if she’s doing more than one essay simultaneously.
Her face denotes a mix of shock and shame hidden behind blushing cheeks.
“Oh! Right. Good, good. It’s, uhm, it’s coming out well,” Caitlyn says.
“Cool.”
“Yes. It’s—yeah.”
“You’ve been working on it for months,” Vi says. Just an observation.
Caitlyn nods suspiciously quickly and a comfortable silence takes place afterwards. Vi likes it, both the company and the comfort.
//
By the end of the evening, they exchange phone numbers. Vi saves her contact information as Caitlyn.
Not Caitlyn Kiramman , or Caitlyn from football practices .
Just Caitlyn.
//
yo, check out this <
[Link] <
> At the risk of it being another one of your dumb videos of yelling goats, I’m going to choose not to.
its not i swear <
when have i lied to you <
> Multiple times now.
> All of them being over your stupid videos of yelling goats.
first of all theyre not stupid <
theyre hilarious <
secondly, i didnt lie <
i just hid the truth for your own good <
Powder’s laugh can be heard across the house, something about teaming up with Claggor to prank Mylo with a mug filled with hot chocolate and peppermint. Vi snorts, limbs spread out in the bed, waiting for a response.
It takes a few minutes before the screen of her phone lights up again.
Vi checks the notification and grins.
> I hate you.
//
> I need your help.
> Quite urgently. Please.
whats up <
whose body do we need to bury <
> Thankfully no one’s.
> [Photo]
> [Photo]
> Which one?
the light blue one <
Meditates sending a second message. Ponders whether it’d be out of place.
Bites her nail, mutters fuck it and sends it.
suits your eyes <
plus no one on their right mind would wear a yellow shirt for a presentation <
> Mother thinks it’s more suitable.
> But I hate it.
> I’ll try to convince her to let me wear the blue one.
> Thank you for your input.
no prob <
i mean it though <
looks good on you <
or whatever <
> Thank you.
//
“So, what’s all this talk I’m hearing about that girl from school?” dad asks, completely out of the blue.
Claggor took Powder to the arcade for the evening. Mylo’s hanging out with his friends from football practice. That leaves her and dad alone, sitting on the couch and watching TV silently.
Until now.
Vi does her best to try and hide the clear surprise on her face. Half her cheek is smashed onto his shoulder, doing most of the job. He doesn’t look at her.
They don’t get to do this very often; Powder always claims his right side, Mylo and Claggor pushing each other off the couch until one of them gets to the other spot. Vi chooses not to get involved.
It’s dumb. Childish. And she doesn’t need to be pampered, she’s almost eighteen.
But it is moments like this, when there’s no one else to fight against for the place, that she gets to have a little of that feeling for herself. Even if it’s selfish—wrong.
And Vander decides to ruin it by being nosy.
“No—nothing,” she murmurs.
“Kate, was it?”
“Cait. Short for Caitlyn.”
“Ah.”
“Yep,” she mumbles, eyes glued to the screen. She brings her thumb close to her mouth, biting the skin around her nail.
“She your friend?”
Vi shrugs. “Kind of, I guess.”
“Well, is she nice?”
She memorized Vi’s entire practice schedule just so she knows when to sit down and see the football matches. Vi would say nice doesn’t cover half of it.
“Yeah, she—she’s cool.”
“Good.”
“Mhmm.”
“It’s good that you have friends,” he says.
She side-eyes him.
“I already have friends,” she says.
“Your siblings don’t count as friends.”
“We hang out together. That’s what friends do.”
“Let me rephrase: it’s good that you have other friends, apart from your brothers and sister.”
“I like hanging out with them just fine.”
“Mylo has friends from football, Claggor has his science study group and Powder’s glued to Ekko all the time at school.”
“Good for them,” she mutters, shrugging.
Truth to be told, she doesn’t have much time for friendship and shit. Vander works long shifts and someone needs to make sure Mylo, Claggor and Powder have dinner on time and go to sleep before he comes back. Vi doesn’t need nor wish that were any different, she’s fine with stepping in when necessary.
Still, it doesn’t change the fact that she can tell Vander’s been getting Saturdays off just to be at home during the evenings, which is the perfect excuse for Vi to hang out with Caitlyn at the mall.
She’s too afraid to ask if their silent arrangement is costing them money for rent.
“Yes, I agree. But don’t you think it’s nice to have a friend just for yourself?”
Dad doesn’t seem troubled in the least.
“I guess so, yeah.”
He nods, pleased with himself. Vi’s not exactly sure what he's proud of, but decides to let it go in order to snuggle closer to him, knees up to her chest. He passes one hand over her shoulders, keeping her tucked under him.
“It’s nice to have a girlfriend, too,” he says, smile on his voice.
Vi grunts, rolling her eyes. “I’ll poison your food, old man.”
//
It’s Monday again and Vi scores two goals in the span of fifteen minutes. The rest of the team pats her back proudly.
Mylo is visibly furious.
“Why didn’t you pass it to me? The girls were watching me, it was my turn to shine.”
Vi snorts. “Yeah, like a dying star.”
“Oh, fuck off—”
The coach blows the whistle, catching the team’s attention.
“Okay, guys, first half’s over! Go take a break,” he shouts over the noise of sweaty annoying teens running around the field.
The team disperses, some going back to the changing rooms. Vi stays where she is. Mylo continues to swear under his breath, so she takes her chance and walks up to Caitlyn’s spot, where she’s welcomed by a bottle of cold water and a cereal bar.
“I think Mylo’s jealous of you,” she says once Vi’s standing near her. She hands over the cereal bar, which Vi opens in record time to chew it up in three bites.
“Not my fault he’s a disaster in the field,” she mumbles with a full mouth, swallowing down once she knows she’s not going to make a fool of herself by accidentally choking on a strawberry flavored cereal bar in front of the prettiest girl in the school. “He wanted to be part of the team to get girls to look at him, y’know? He forced us to join, too. If he keeps playing with two left feet, he’s not going to succeed at it.”
Caitlyn hums quietly in return, gaze fixed on the field absently.
“He’s not so bad,” she says.
She huffs, uncapping the bottle and taking a long sip.
“He’s just not you. You’re too good.”
In the distant future, Vi might be able to laugh at her reaction.
Right now, she can’t help accidentally choking on the water, letting out a series of quiet coughs in an attempt to mask it. With it, the painful awareness of her physical state, her sweaty shirt and reddened face, comes into perspective, too.
She clears her throat, the back of her hand cleaning the sweat off her face to look a little more presentable. Caitlyn always makes a face when other teammates approach her to talk after practice—nosy little shits that are curious to know what’s her essay about—something about their sweaty foreheads turning her off the conversation. She doesn’t seem particularly bothered by Vi’s.
“Yeah, uh—thanks,” Vi murmurs, aware of the way her face burns.
Caitlyn smiles, clearly pleased with herself. This fucking girl.
“You’re very welcome.”
The match resumes and Vi has the upper hand, too close to the goalie’s box and too excited to actually calculate her movements.
Still, Caitlyn’s looking at her and oh , how she understands now what Mylo was referring to when looking for girls’ attention.
“Yo! Check out, this one’s for you,” Vi says, loud enough for Caitlyn to hear from all the other side of the field. Caitlyn raises a thumbs-up in the air, encouraging her.
And then proceeds to completely miss her shot, making a fool of herself and falling face-first into the muddy ground. She distantly hears Mylo laughing his ass off as she starts to kiss her rizz goodbye.
At the end of practice, the coach hands over a bag of ice for her swollen cheek and a handkerchief for her bloody nose.
Caitlyn’s still here, for some reason. Even after Vi just lost every ounce of coolness she had inside her body.
“I still think you were amazing,” she says, rosy cheeks and gap-toothed smile on her face as she helps Vi keep the ice bag in place while she takes off her sneakers.
Mylo’s frustrated groan can be heard all across the school.
//
She tests her footing once, twice. Dad bought her a new pair of sneakers for football practice and she hasn’t achieved a proper level of comfortability yet. The shoes are tight and hurt her toes a little, but Vi wiggles them until she feels ready enough to start running a few laps with the rest of the team.
Claggor joins her at her side, jogging.
“Mylo said we’ve got a crowd today,” he says.
“Huh?”
He gestures at the stands with his head. “Look at her.”
Vi doesn’t stop jogging, nor does she lower her speed, simply twisting her head a little to take a look at a girl, sitting there on her own.
She knows some of her teammates have girlfriends, but they’re usually sitting together during practice. The girl with blue hair is a weird addition to the mix; she doesn’t keep her gaze fixated on one player, her eyes instead studying every single person running around the field. She has a notepad with her.
“What’s some Piltie doing here?” Vi asks.
Claggor snorts. “Are you kidding? Caitlyn Kiramman, rich Piltie girl from the other side of the river. Her parents literally sponsor half of Piltover’s investors. Heard she’s doing an essay about football. Deckard told me so.”
She scoffs. “As if he were a trustable source for information. And I know who she is, I’d just never seen her around here.”
He shrugs. “Eh. Doesn’t hurt to hear what he’s got to say.”
The match starts and Vi throws a few good passes to her teammates, nailing it.
Of course, she makes the mistake of getting too excited, and this so-called Caitlyn Kiramman pays the price for it when the ball goes straight to her face, almost knocking her off the stands. Even her little notepad goes flying the opposite way.
Mylo starts laughing, grabbing his stomach. “Shit, Vi. You fucking killed her!”
Vi expects the other girls to at least stand up from their seats to check on her, but to her surprise, they seem to hide their faces under their hands to laugh.
Okay, Vi might feel just a little bit bad for it.
The coach interrupts the match and she’s forced to go apologize for her little stunt.
As she approaches her, she can discern her trying to stand up on her own, holding a small handkerchief to her bloody nose. The girl freezes upon her arrival, eyeing her warily.
“Hey, uh, sorry for that,” Vi says, gesturing to her nose. “I didn’t mean to kick the ball toward you.”
The other girls stifle down their giggling, still watching the interaction with mild interest. Vi chooses to ignore them, picking up the notepad from the floor and giving it back to her.
“You should have better reflexes, though.”
The girl frowns. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a big field, you should’ve seen that coming.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms. “Well, forgive me for lacking reflexes in a sport I happen to be uneducated in.”
“ Anyway , sorry for ruining your perfect nose, or whatever,” she says, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at her accent.
She seems pensive for an instant. Finally, she nods. “It’s fine, I forgive you. You played very well up until this, everyone makes mistakes.”
Vi’s cheeks turn a little pink at the compliment. She scratches the back of her neck.
“Cool. Uh, name’s Vi.”
“I’m Caitlyn. Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances,” she says.
“Yeah, same. Sorry again.”
An awkward silence settles between them before Vi perks up again, curiosity sharpening.
“What’s that for?” she asks, gesturing to her notepad.
Caitlyn takes a look at it, as if forgetting she had it in the first place.
“Oh,” she whispers, her face lighting up a little. “I’m writing an essay for my literature class on the social aspects of football.”
Vi nods. “Cool. That’s interesting.”
Caitlyn smiles a little wider,revealing a tooth-gap in between her front teeth. Vi looks away from it.
“Thank you,” she says, genuinely happy.
Someone calls her name and Vi returns to the field, shooting one last awkward smile her way—Caitlyn smiles in return too, waving her hand shyly—before coming face to face with Mylo’s obnoxious expression.
“Is she suing you?”
“Shut the fuck up.“
For some weird reason—Vi could catalogue it as paranoia—she’s almost entirely certain that from that moment, up until the very end of practice, Caitlyn dedicates her attention only to Vi’s movements on the field.
She’s not sure what to do with that information.
//
> I may have a request.
> But I don’t wish to bother you.
shoot <
> I need help with my math homework.
> I understand practically nothing, and mother will be angry if I tell her I failed my last exam.
> And she’s already mad because I stained my shoes with mud in the schoolyard last time Deckard kicked the ball toward me by accident.
> Mylo told me you’re at the top of your class and he sometimes asks for your help.
> And he said you’re very good at explaining math.
> If you wouldn’t mind helping me, I would appreciate it.
> Please and thank you.
mm that depends. <
The writing bubble disappears. Then it’s back there again.
Vi chews around the skin of her thumb.
> I can pay you, it’s no issue.
> Like a tutoring class.
She huffs.
Leave it to Caitlyn to think everything must be a monetary transaction. No wonder she values Vi’s friendship so much, considering the lack of hidden interests in their interactions.
“Shit,” Vi mutters, typing up a reply before Caitlyn gets the wrong idea.
i dont want money <
> Are you sure?
> It is no trouble.
nah <
you said you have a shooting competition next month <
i want to go <
> Oh.
There’s a pause and Vi’s heart might beat its way out of her chest if it continues to prolong itself.
> Of course.
> It’d be an honor.
okay mr president <
send me the address <
Powder bursts into the room, carrying a box full of wires.
“What are you smiling at?” she asks, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Another message pops up.
Vi grins.
//
Caitlyn wasn’t kidding when she said she needed help. She genuinely sucks at math.
“It just doesn’t make sense,” she huffs out with frustration. “Why is the answer twenty?”
Vi points out a key detail the other girl forgot to take into account.
“You didn’t apply the distributive rule in this parenthesis,” she says, waiting for Caitlyn to look at her error.
“This is pointless,” she mumbles, throwing her pencil on the desk.
It’s the first time Vi has ever stepped a foot inside of Caitlyn’s big-ass house. The mansion has corridors large enough to get lost in them, just like a maze.
“We have two dogs; Sally and Ride, ” Caitlyn explained proudly when asked about them. Vi doesn’t have the heart to make fun of the name choices.
“Didn’t know you were a fan of space, ” Vi had said, smiling fondly at her.
“It’s a topic I’m merely well educated in.”
A butler brings them orange juice and cookies and she has the opportunity to see Caitlyn in her prime, acting all elegant and accordingly, greeting the employee with a very mature nod of the head and a polite dismissal once he’s served the food at the desk.
Caitlyn’s room is as big as Vi’s entire living room. She has an enormous bed which she instantly abuses, jumping on it to test its resistance before Caitlyn gives her a very unimpressed look, arms crossed and eyebrows up.
So now they’re here, sitting at Caitlyn’s desk, trying to force math into her brain.
And it’s not working. At all.
“Let’s take a break,” Vi says after a moment.
Caitlyn’s face falls, looking down at her lap like she just confessed to murdering someone.
“I’m going to fail,” she cries out in response, sniffing pathetically.
Something tugs inside of Vi’s chest akin to muscle memory. Feels like consoling Powder after Mylo’s made fun of her.
She opens her arms almost unconsciously, waiting for Caitlyn to come to her.
It’s probably stupid. Caitlyn’s not an eleven year old at the verge of tears over the teasing of an older sibling, she’s the same age as Vi and the root of her frustrations aren’t even about math itself but about failing something after nailing everything else in her life.
Before Vi can brush it off, a weight crashes her.
“ Oof —”
And then Caitlyn clinging to her as if her life depended on it, skinny arms around her neck, hiding her face in Vi’s shoulder for a brief moment before pulling apart. Vi blinks, silently wondering if she just imagined the whole thing, considering how short of an embrace it was.
She sniffs again, clearing her throat.
Then, as if it never happened, her back’s straight again and her face remains emotionless. She picks up her pen again and goes back to her math exercises.
“Thank you,” she murmurs with the last remains of vulnerability she has reserved only for Vi to see.
They manage to solve three different problems together—with Caitlyn relying heavily on Vi to make sure she’s doing it right—and then Vi coaxes her into trying to do a few on her own to test how effective the tutoring was.
“Claggor told me you’re also very good at physics,” Caitlyn says. The sun’s starting to set low on the horizon and Vi agreed to stay for dinner.
Right now, though, they're lying on their sides, facing each other. Vi feels at ease.
“Eh, kind of,” she shrugs.
“Don’t sell yourself short, I was pleasantly surprised when you mentioned getting your scholarship because of your good grades. I thought you got in because of sports. Not that you can’t be good at more than one thing,” she says.
“I wasn't always that good. At school, I mean,” Vi whispers, almost like a confession.
Caitlyn frowns, curiosity picked. She stays silent, looking at her in inquiry.
“Before Vander took us in, I used to get in trouble a lot.”
“What for?” she asks, accent shining through.
Shrugging. “I was angry. All the time. And my parents were gone and I didn’t know how to take care of Powder without fucking it all up. I had a sort of gig back then, doing deliveries for a restaurant to get some money, so I had to miss school days a lot.”
“Did you miss it? Going to school?”
Vi ponders on the question. “Yeah, I like school,” she says. “I remember Vander got me my first set of pencils for art class when we first moved in with him, he said I shouldn't spend my savings on buying school supplies because he could handle it. I got so nervous because I didn’t know what to say in return, so I just nodded and went back to my room.”
Vi laughs at the memory, Caitlyn laughs too.
“I’m glad you have him, I don’t like the thought of us not meeting because you needed to miss school days,” she says, eyes big and blue, smiling shyly.
Vi’s chest is warm with affection.
“Yeah, I’m glad, too.”
//
> [Photo]
> I believe I am doing it wrong again.
you forgot the cube root <
> Thank you.
//
“So you do like her?” Powder asks one evening, in an accusatory tone.
Vi, sitting at the other end of the couch, promptly chokes.
“What—why do you say that?”
Very smooth, Vi.
“Mylo says you’re in love with her because you keep making googly eyes at her,” she says, looking around the channels. She stops at Disney, turning up the volume.
Vi’s neck grows hot.
“I don’t do googly eyes,” she spits out with disgust.
“You do. Mylo told me so.”
“Mylo’s a dumbass.”
Powder rolls her eyes in her very pre-teen style.
“Yeah, but he’s not blind.”
“I don’t like Caitlyn,” Vi insists firmly.
“Then why do you always hang out with her?”
“Because she’s my friend. We’re friends .”
“But you never hang out with your practice teammates.”
Rolling her eyes. “Yeah, because they’re dumb. And they’re all boys and they’re fucking annoying.”
“But you can hang out with me,” Powder mutters, looking down at the buttons of her purple shirt, toying with them. Pretends to brush it off as if she didn’t just throw the bomb right there, in the middle of the living room.
Huh . So that’s what this is about.
She gets closer, trapping her into a bear hug.
Powder groans.
“Let me go .”
“You are still my favorite person in the world. You know that, right?” she mumbles into the crown of her head, immobilizing her movements.
The little girl hums, seemingly meditating on that thought.
“No one will take that spot?”
“Nah-uh. No one.”
“Not even your not-girlfriend?”
“Caitlyn’s my friend,” Vi says as a reminder, knowing damn well it will fall into deaf ears.
Powder frees herself, muttering you’re all smelly with a furrowed brow, i just came back from practice , Vi retorts.
“Fine. I don’t want to hang out with you guys anyway. You’re all sweet and love-y, it’s disgusting.”
“Hey!”
//
i could help you know <
with your essay <
youre still working on it right? <
youve been working on it for ages <
Caitlyn’s response takes a few minutes to appear on screen.
> I appreciate the offer, but I asked Claggor for help.
“Claggor?” she whispers, a sense of betrayal finding place in her chest.
She narrows her eyes; a sting of pain threatens to make her cry. Which is stupid.
Why not her?
Vi would’ve helped if she asked.
Fucking feelings.
oh sure no prob <
> I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel left out.
its fine seriously <
don’t worry <
just promise youll let me read it once its done <
> I will!
“Hey, Clag?” she calls out, turning off her phone and sitting properly on the couch.
He comes out of the bathroom, raising one eyebrow questioningly.
“Did Cait ask you to help her with her essay?”
Claggor looks troubled, as if being caught doing something he shouldn’t. Like when he and Mylo accidentally play with the ball inside the house and then break something valuable like dad’s kettles.
“Oh, yeah,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “It was nothing, just a few questions she had.”
“Oh. Okay,” Vi murmurs, biting her lip anxiously.
Huh.
//
Halloween might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it is Powder’s, so Vi is physically obligated to accompany her go trick and treating around their neighborhood.
Caitlyn isn’t part of the original formula, but Vi could be open to let that one slide; the girl has not once gone out for such mundane activity, and Vi’s aware how much it bothers her to always be an outsider, a misfit. So Vi decides to be the one to change it.
Of course, she doesn’t expect her to show up wearing a full custom, awkwardly standing on her porch with the excitement of a child.
“What are you wearing ?” Vi asks, suppressing the urge to snort.
Caitlyn frowns. It’s impossible to take her seriously with that fucking mustache on her face.
“Diego Armando Maradona,” she says, like it’s so obvious. “Famous football player.”
“I know who he is, but why are you disguised as him?”
“I—well, excuse me for following the tradition. Where is your custom?” she shoots back, demanding voice.
“I’m not wearing one,” Vi says.
“Why?”
She shrugs. “Too old for that shit.”
Vi supposes it’s the wrong thing to say because yes, she’s too old for it, but Caitlyn’s not, and if she wishes to respect tradition on Halloween, Vi shouldn’t be the one to be an asshole about it.
The girl’s face falls.
“Oh. I thought you’d like it,” Caitlyn murmurs to the ground, cheeks turning pink.
Yeah, Vi’s a fucking asshole.
“No, I mean—it’s cool, I promise. I was being,” she shrugs, “dumb, I guess. You look cool.”
Caitlyn eyes her warily, her shoulders relieving some tension.
“I suppose you were. Where is Powder?”
“She’s—”
“Right here! Look, Cait, I’m a werewo—oh, wow, that’s the shittiest wig I’ve ever seen,” Powder says, side-eyeing Caitlyn’s fake hair.
“Powder!” Vi hisses.
“What? It’s the truth!”
“It’s okay,” Caitlyn says, smiling. “It is a little intentional, I don’t wish for people to mistake me for the actual player. Only your sister could make a good impression of him, given her skills on the field,” she adds, looking at her for approval.
Okay , the heat rising to Vi’s face is definitely not because of the heat. Powder rolls her eyes.
“Can we go now? I don’t want to go with Mylo, he’s been doing a Godzilla impression for the past two hours,” Powder asks.
“Sure, let’s go.”
They visit a few houses around their zone, Powder getting most of the candies by using her cute big eyes expression every time someone opens the door. Vi stays a couple of meters behind them, waiting until their bags are filled to resume their walking.
By the time they come back, Vander’s also at home, making dinner.
“I tricked an old lady into giving me two chocolates instead of one,” Powder announces.
Dad smiles. “That’s my girl,” he says proudly.
Caitlyn’s attention has been fixed on her own bag of candies for the past several seconds, brow furrowed. She inspects some of the wrappers before handing an entire fist of candies to Vi. Her eyes narrow.
“For you,” she says. “Powder told me these are your favorites.”
Vi blinks. “Oh. It’s fine, they’re yours.”
“Yes, and I’m giving them to you.”
“I don’t want them,” she mutters, feeling a little out of her element over the offer.
“Well, that’s too bad, because now they belong to you,” she declares, leaving no room for discussion.
Begrudgingly, Vi takes them. She unwraps one and starts chewing it. Caitlyn nods in approval.
Without being aware of it, Vi’s invisible empty candy bag has been half-filled. And Vi didn’t have to ask for it, it was just…given, handed.
After Caitlyn leaves, she helps Vander with the dishes.
“A little bossy, ain’t she?” he comments, smiling pleasantly.
Vi snorts. “You think?“
//
Vander’s cooking pizza from scratch as a celebration for Powder’s recent win at the presentation of her robotics class at the school fair.
Mylo, Claggor and Powder are upstairs toying with the small robot she built for her project.
Vi sits at the kitchen table, silently watching him cut the tomatoes into thin slices.
“I have plans on Sunday,” she announces. More like stammers out, but Vander doesn’t comment on it.
He doesn’t look up from his task, merely humming with curiosity.
“Oh?”
“Yep. With Caitlyn.”
“Okay. Do you have money for the bus?”
“Mhm. Yeah.”
“Good.”
He doesn’t say anything else. But Vi knows better.
The motherfucker’s thinking of it.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” she says, deliberately nonchalant.
Vander nods, pulling out the pizza pan from one of the cabinets down the kitchen sink.
“So you’ve said many times,” he mutters.
“She’s not.”
“I never said otherwise.”
Her brow furrows.
“You’re thinking it,” she grunts.
He looks at her. Raises his eyebrows, assessing her.
Vi’s gaze goes straight to the table, not daring to face him. She bounces her knee.
“Is there anything you’d like to discuss with me?” he asks.
“Don’t patronize me.”
He frowns, looking visibly confused.
“I am most certainly not.”
“You’re thinking it,” she insists. “She’s just a friend.”
He stops what he’s doing in order to take a proper look at her. Vi swallows audibly.
“What’s with all these walls going up, huh?” he asks, now softer, as if approaching a wild animal.
She feels stupid for even bringing it up. Should’ve texted him her plans.
“You know, when you girls first got here, way before Mylo and Claggor got removed from their previous placements, it was one of those moments where I couldn’t tell if I was doing things right,” he says, retelling a memory that’s been sewed into Vi’s brain since they got adopted.
“Why?” she asks softly.
“I could never tell if you liked it here. Powder was happy, that much I could infer by myself. Every time I looked at you, I couldn’t decipher whether you wanted to stay here, or you were just waiting for me to kick you out.”
Vi shrugs, cheeks turning pink.
Things weren’t easy, back then. Vander was patient enough to give them a place and leave Vi alone to deal with her baggage. Powder was smaller, and her priority had always been putting her first, making sure she was safe. By the time Vander appeared in their lives, Vi didn’t consider her own issues as something worth taking care of.
It’s been a long time since then. Still, doesn’t stop those habits that Vi has inked into her brain from making an appearance in her life every now and then.
But Caitlyn makes her feel less wrong sometimes. Like when she stays after practice with a bottle of water, waiting for her. And Vi had no idea she could be on the receiving end of those things, being waited for.
“It wasn’t personal,” she murmurs.
“I know that, and I knew it back then, too. But it wasn’t enough knowing your anger wasn’t directed at me; I wanted to be sure you felt safe here.”
This wasn’t Vi’s plan when she crawled out of her room to announce she’d be going out to get a smoothie with Caitlyn. She’s here now and it seems like she’s not going anywhere until he proves his point.
“Eventually you opened up and started letting me handle some things, but I suppose it wasn’t enough, if you still keep pushing yourself too hard,” he says.
Vi looks up, eyes sad and wide open. “It is enough, I promise.”
“Then, would there be a problem if she were something more?”
Vi’s mind comes to a stop, taking a moment to genuinely ask herself that.
She shrugs.
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
It’s the truth, she doesn’t know. But it’s something that’s been eating her from the inside out.
If she could have that for herself, if Powder would be okay with letting Vi not be around all the time. If Mylo would come to terms with Vi having a girlfriend before him. If Vander would be okay with Vi growing out of the duty she forced herself into taking after her parents’ death.
He accepts it, passing over the brush to spread the sauce on the pizza dough.
“It’s okay to not know. What is not good is that you keep pushing everyone away at every minimal chance of getting closer. Powder’s going to be an adult someday, you can’t stay frozen in time; at some point you gotta let things be—let stuff happen to you.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” she mutters. Dad shakes his head.
“Nothing to be sorry for. If you change your mind, I’m here to talk it out.”
“I know,” she says, and she means it.
Vander smiles, something else in his mind.
“Do give a warning first, I’d hate to be unprepared for the, uh, what could we call it? The bees and the bees talk?” he asks, grinning with mischief.
Vi drops the brush in an instant, getting up from her seat.
“Nope. I’m out.”
“Where are you going? I thought we were having an adult conversation,” he shouts, laughing loudly.
Vi covers her ears and sings all the way back to her bedroom.
//
The shooting range is filled with middle-aged men from the upper-class, all dressed fancy and business-like.
Only few seem to actually pay attention to the competition, while most of them look to have a brief moment of spotlight at the Kiramman’s seats, dragging the attention of Caitlyn’s parents, who don’t look very pleased at being interrupted from witnessing their daughter compete.
Among all the money suckers, Vi stands close to the field, rooting for Caitlyn to win against some older woman who’s her last opponent.
She screams and applauds, and some stupid men throw nasty looks at her but Vi couldn’t give less of a shit, her gaze and entire attention focused on Caitlyn taking the final shot and winning quite epically.
Caitlyn wins, fair and square. She smiles at the crowd, but the smile is too big and too awkward to be true. That is until she spots Vi among the public, a more genuine happiness invading her face. She waves extra excitedly at Vi, holding the trophy close to her chest with pride.
After the competition, Vi waits by the stands, chewing on the apple Vander packed her for lunch, knowing damn well Vi would spend most of the day wandering with Caitlyn after the obviously predicted win.
After twenty minutes of polite greetings and congratulations, Caitlyn’s in front of her, carrying her rifle and her bag, looking too small with her prized possession in hand.
And Vi has forced herself into restraining any intrusive thoughts—almost an entire year of hiding how pathetically down she is, just to avoid being made fun of, but right now the girl she has a big fat crush on is looking at her with a reddened face and a sweaty forehead from all the effort, only yesterday dad said to stop suppressing everything down, and all Vi can think of is:
“Can I kiss you?”
Right.
Totally not making a fool of herself again and again.
Call that the Caitlyn effect. Makes you look and act stupider than you are.
Abort, abort, abort. Tell her you’re just joking.
It’s a joke, just a fucking joke.
Hell of a joke, idiot.
Caitlyn’s face shifts and morphs and turns, millions of infinitely small emotions passing through her face, making Vi regret even befriending her in the first place. She should’ve quit football months ago.
She’s about to shrug it off as a prank when she finally speaks up.
“I have a confession to make,” she declares, rushed and nervous. She fidgets with her unloaded rifle and Vi frowns in return.
“What?” she whispers, silently waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She doesn’t want to be friends anymore.
You’re annoying her.
You and all the stupid baggage you carry that she pities you enough to listen to.
She doesn’t make it to the bottom of her dark thoughts, Caitlyn interrupting that train.
“I lied,” she murmurs, biting her lip.
“About what?” Vi demands, scowling.
“I finished my essay months ago,” Caitlyn spills out, rapid and anxious.
What?
“What?” she asks, no other prominent feeling besides utter confusion.
“I only needed to attend a few practices to take notes for my class,” she explains, gaze fixed on her fingers resting on her rifle awkwardly. “But I wanted to talk to you again, so I continued to attend because I thought at some point you’d notice me. And then you did, and I didn’t have an excuse for being there, so I said I was still writing it because otherwise you’d think I was being weird.”
Vi’s face displays an appropriate amount of speechlessness.
“And then we kept talking and I didn’t know how to tell you, so Claggor offered to cover for me until I was forced to tell you. Which is now,” she adds, matter of fact.
A fly must be on its way toward Vi’s mouth and Vi is very much going to swallow it if she doesn’t close her mouth soon.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
And she takes a look at her face, pink with shame, frame small despite the obvious weapon she’s carrying in her hands. And then proceeds to burst out laughing.
Caitlyn’s eyes narrow, pouting.
“I don’t find it funny,” she mutters, deeply offended.
Vi cleans a fake tear off her left eye.
“It is very funny, trust me.”
She hums, not entirely convinced. Something else seems to come into mind, and Caitlyn’s face turns even redder than before.
Oh, right.
Vi just asked if she could kiss her.
Her. Caitlyn Kiramman.
Here, right after her competition.
Vi should start looking for ways to change her names. Maybe move to another country.
“You want to kiss me?” Caitlyn asks—whispers, awe in her features.
“I’m—I mean,” Vi stutters. “I don’t—do you ?”
“Do you ?” Caitlyn shoots back.
“I asked first.”
“Oh, how mature.”
“I’m being polite.”
“You are confusing me.”
“ How am I confusing you?”
Caitlyn scoffs. “You refuse to give me a straight answer.”
“You’re doing the same.”
“And I’ll continue to do so until you dignify with a response that will communicate that you do want to kiss me .”
Vi’s breath hitches, feeling her hands curl into fists, building up the nerve.
She might as well give Mylo a real reason to make fun of her.
Fuck it.
“Yeah. I—I want to kiss you. If you want.”
Caitlyn’s face matches Vi in color, but her confidence doesn’t falter.
“I want that, too. Please and thank you.“
She pushes down the urge to smile at that.
Caitlyn gets closer, looking down at her lips then back at her eyes, searching for permission. Vi’s own mouth moves without command, pressing her chapped lips for an infinitely small second.
Caitlyn breathes out, hot air hitting Vi’s face as she sighs into the kiss.
Vi—honest to God—hopes her breath doesn’t smell. She doesn't even know what to do with her limbs.
After a moment, they take a step backwards, meeting each other’s eyes again.
“Hi,” Caitlyn whispers, right into her face. Her smile only might kill every reservation Vi ever had about asking for this.
“Hi,” she says right back.
Her hand is carefully slow as she takes a loose strand of Caitlyn’s hair, placing it behind her ear gently.
“May I kiss you again?” the other girl asks tentatively. “For scientific research; I couldn't collect enough information the first time.”
Vi grins.
This girl.
“Yeah.”
//
“So, let me get this straight,” Mylo starts.
Dad circles the table until every plate is served, giving Powder an extra portion of chicken nuggets.
“You’ve been telling me to fuck off for months ,” he says.
“Language,” dad grunts.
“Because I made fun of you and Caitlyn. And now you’re dating her.”
Vi takes a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.
“Yep, basically.”
“And I don't even get a thank you in return?” he demands.
Claggor raises his hand to speak up. “I helped, too. Don’t take all the credit.”
“I am going to take the credit because I literally predicted this.”
“I predicted it too!” Powder intervenes.
Dad sighs, finally sitting down in his seat, grabbing his fork.
“Can we please have one peaceful dinner? Quietly ?” he begs.
No one around the table listens to him.
//
“I am utterly terrible at doing this,” Caitlyn says, frustrated.
“You’re not even trying .”
The girl huffs, offended. “Excuse me, how do you expect to throw the ball from behind by lifting my feet? It is impossible .”
“You have to do a little jump.”
“I am going to accidentally kill myself and it’s going to be your fault,” Caitlyn accuses, hissing at her.
Vi rolls her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic.”
“ Hello ,” Mylo says, loud and whiny. “Can we have the ball back? Practice started ten minutes ago.”
Caitlyn lets go of the ball in record speed.
“Oh, thank God,” she sighs in relief, going back to her seat.
Vi gets up, walking up to the field. She shoots one last flashing smile at her, winking. Caitlyn rolls her eyes, even though she’s blushing.
“Smoothies after practice?” she shouts over the noise of her teammates starting to kick the ball across the field.
“I’m counting on it,” Caitlyn says, smiling right back at her.