Chapter Text
If there’s anything Luz hated about geometry class, it was how the teacher droned on about every subject as though he were dead inside, making him impossible to retain attention towards.
Now, if there was anything she loved about geometry class, it was how easily she could disguise her yearning sketches as note-taking.
Luz doodled in the corner of her notebook, adding wisps of hair to a particularly familiar face, with bold lines for the eyeliner and a lightly sketched letterman on the jacket. Luz smiled softly at the drawing, adding little finishing touches to the art before she heard someone whisper her name for what was probably the umpteenth time.
“Luz!”
She looked up. In front of her, her friend from cheerleading, Clara, was tilting her head towards the board, and it was then Luz realized she’d been called on to answer a question.
“Oh!” She squinted at the board; they were learning about proofs, and the teacher was giving her a very stern look. She felt the sudden urge to sink in her seat. Geometry wasn’t really her strong suit, and it didn’t help that she’d accidentally brought the English book report about her favorite fantasy series on the day they were meant to present their math project, so the teacher very clearly didn’t favor her. To make things worse, the person she was doodling was sitting just a few seats away, and Luz could already feel her eyes burning into her skull.
“SAS?” she answered hesitantly. The teacher glared at her for a moment, and then gave an approving nod, continuing on with his lifeless lesson as Luz slumped in her seat in relief. She stole a glance towards the other girl, who had already returned to her notes.
She let out an inaudible sigh, looking down at her drawing. Staring back at her was Amity Blight: captain of the rugby team, top of the class, and exceptionally pretty. She had bold light brunette hair, painted nails so perfect they looked professionally done, and a poise that intimidated nearly everyone in the vicinity.
Luz knew she wasn’t unique for crushing on such a girl, (because, as Luz thought, who wouldn’t?), which was completely why she’d always been so secretive about it. Out of everyone in the grade level, Amity wouldn’t ever like her back, not in a million years. The only people she’d really told were Willow, Gus, and a few of the girls in cheerleading class, all of whom had a little too much faith in her and encouraged her to talk to the rugby captain. Well, Willow felt that Luz deserved better somehow , but never elaborated on how or why.
Cutting off her thoughts, the bell rang out, dismissing everyone for the last period of the day. Luz shoved the notebook into her backpack, trying to fit it past the pom-poms and folded up uniform. Cheerleading was her final class, and quite frankly one of her favorites. Some people found it shocking that Luz Noceda, certified ‘weird girl’, had even tried out for cheerleading in the first place, but she always tried to ignore those backhanded comments. The elective was a perfect way to burn off her endless energy and support other people, and she’d even managed to make a few friends there.
And, also, it was during the same period and field as rugby practice, which was pretty convenient considering Luz’s small crush. But that was an unintentional and originally unknown perk, in her defense.
After heading to the locker room, Luz quickly changed into her uniform, analyzing herself in the tall mirror and giving herself a reassuring nod. Her hair was already short, so she didn’t need to tie it back in a bow, but she had a little clip-on version so she’d be matching with the other cheerleaders. In all honesty, Luz didn’t wear this sort of outfit that often – she was more of an androgynous-style sort of girl, with just a few masc or fem choices thrown in here and there – but she had to admit, she sorta rocked this uniform.
Feeling a sense of giddiness bubbling up, she caught up with the other cheerleaders, just in time to hear a few excited whispering.
“He asked for my number!” one of them exclaimed, her hands clasped. “I can’t believe it!”
“Who wouldn’t?” another said. “You’re, like, one of the coolest girls in the grade.”
Luz, slightly intrigued by the conversation (she was a huge sucker for learning about other people’s love lives, and especially their backstories), hadn’t noticed she was being greeted by a different cheerleader. She hurriedly gave them a smile and a wave, earning just one or two looks from the others.
Her reputation among the other cheerleaders was a little varied. She’d given an odd first impression after doing her little inside-out eye bag trick in front of everyone, so there were a few lasting judgemental glares here and there, but for the most part, they were kind to her. She was glad to have made friends with Clara, which ultimately made it much easier to be on good terms with the rest, though Luz wished she wasn’t viewed as strange as she was. But, slowly and surely, she was being included more, and this conversation was no exception.
“What about you, Luz?” one of the cheerleaders teased. “Any luck with the rugby captain?”
“Oh,” Luz felt a small bit of flush make its way onto her cheeks, and she shrugged. “Dunno! I haven’t talked to her, so, y’know.”
“She was looking at Luz during geometry,” Clara offered. The other cheerleaders let out an ' oooo', and Luz had to fight down a small grin.
“I was just answering a question,” she waved off modestly. “Everyone was looking at me.”
“But there was something different in her eyes,” Clara said dramatically. “She was totally falling in love with you.”
As much as Luz enjoyed being told these things, she knew they weren’t really true at all. Amity Blight? Look in her direction that way? Likely about as probable as The Good Witch Azura coming to life in front of her.
But, as her eyes trailed towards the rugby captain, who donned a signature confident grin and stretched her arms out before practice, Luz couldn’t help but wish.
✧
The high scream of a whistle rang out through the field, signaling the end of drills.
With the upcoming game against Glandus, the Banshees were doubling down on practice and training. Today was dedicated to running drills and coordination, and in all honesty, Amity was completely spent. She let out a sigh, reaching up to readjust the band in her hair, and watched as Coach Lilith called everyone over for a water break.
“That went well,” the coach said, her chin held high. “We’ll do a practice game tomorrow with the backups.”
“Wow, Amity, you were crushing it out there!” Skara praised, giving her a pat on the shoulder. “Your running’s gotten better.”
“Let’s hope the little incident doesn’t happen again,” Boscha teased, bumping her shoulder. Amity let out a small groan, lightly shoving her. Though her friend laughed, Amity hadn’t found it all that humorous.
“Hey, she didn’t mean to trip last practice,” Viney cut in. “We all make mistakes.”
“Can you just drop it?” Amity muttered, grabbing her bottle from the bench and twisting the cap off. She was already sweating, hair damp and icky, and she didn’t need more irritation on top of that. “We have a game to focus on.”
“It’s just some lighthearted talk,” Cat offered. “I don’t think Boscha meant anything against you.”
Amity grunted. “Anyways,” she said, a hint of passive aggressiveness in her tone, “We have to do well in tomorrow’s practice game. The game against Glandus is in two months, and if we win this, we get a chance to advance. Nationals is our goal. Understood?”
The team members nodded, full attention on their captain. The Banshees played in rugby sevens: three fronts — Boscha as tighthead prop, Skara as loosehead prop, and Amity as hooker, and four backs — Bria as scrum half, Viney as fly half, Amelia as wing, and Cat as centre. So far, the team positions were working out well enough, but their true skill would be showcased in this upcoming game. And this game was the only thing on Amity’s mind the past few weeks.
Amity may have been one of the only ones who took rugby this seriously, apart from Boscha. For the others, it was an activity, a resume perk. But for Amity, it’d become a passion, and she’d do anything to win whenever they played. And it always followed through: Amity was an exceptional captain, and Hexside was known for winning games against rival schools. This would be no different. Yet even with her confidence, she wasn’t going to back down on training and planning.
But of course, the Blight still had her limits. By the end of the period, Amity’s already limited social battery was down the drain, and she wanted nothing more than to go home, finish up her homework, and crash into her bed. While the other rugby players laughed and talked, Amity was stiffly making her way to her backpack, hauling it over her shoulders. Rugby practice was the last period of the day, thankfully, so she never had to worry about using some crappy public shower and could just take care of everything at home.
Well, apart from one thing. Her makeup.
Though it may seem a little silly, Amity always redid her makeup at the end of the day. The last thing she wanted was to step into her manor looking tired, otherwise she’d get some peeved comment from her mother, such as “did you go through the whole day looking like that?” or “if rugby is tiring you out so much, why not switch it for a more academically enriching elective?” or a simple “you look horrific.” Such phrases, on really bad days, made Amity consider if punching her mother would be forgivable or not.
So, per her usual after school routine, Amity entered through the backdoors and made her way to the bathroom. She sighed, stepping in front of the sink and pulling the tie out of her hair as she allowed the backpack to fall from her shoulders. Spots and smudges covered the old mirror, and the lighting was wholly dim while the rest of the bathroom was clearly unkempt and ignored by Hexside’s janitors. After all, this bathroom was at the far side of the hall (and, unfortunately, the one closest to the sports field) so it often went forgotten by staff members.
But through the glass’ fog, she could somewhat make out her appearance. Her roots were poking out, and really ought to be redone sometime — her hair was naturally a richer brown than her siblings’ and mother’s, the latter of which always made her dye her hair lighter in order to match. Her eye bags were beginning to show, too, and Amity knew she’d have to put on some concealer before she headed home.
She reached for the sink knobs, its grating screech hitting her ears as water rushed down from the faucet. She held her palms underneath it, letting its bitter coolness rush over her fingers, before she wiped it over her face. Okay, she thought, analyzing her reflection, slight improvement, but not enough to avoid comments from my mom.
She began on her makeup, sure to cover any facial flaws she could pinpoint. Amity carefully traced out the wing of her eyeliner, the pencil moving graciously and with full precision. Her finger twitched, however, when the bathroom door swung open. Two chattering girls bounded in, their navy blue cheerleader uniforms illuminated under the broken ceiling light. Immediately, a sense of distaste crawled up inside, feeling her quiet peace was just disturbed and the wing slightly messed.
Amity caught a glance at them through the mirror; one of them had vibrant blonde hair with a vibrant pink stripe in the middle, and the other donned short curls and soft, warm features. Amity could’ve sworn she’d heard that second girl’s name in her geometry class earlier, though she hadn’t paid it much attention. The girl made eye contact with her through the mirror, and Amity immediately looked back down, pretending to be preoccupied with her things.
“Are you sure you wanna? I just don’t want you to fall and get hurt,” The blonde was saying, setting her backpack near the sinks. Amity instinctively shifted her feet in the other direction, already stuffing the rest of her makeup items back into the tiny bag sitting on the counter.
“Tons of people do it. I’m sure it’s easy peasy,” the other insisted boldly. She seemed to be bouncing on her toes, a bright energy practically radiating off of her, her backpack halfway unzipped with tiny strands of a pom-pom poking out. “Nothing this cheer-master can’t handle!”
“I’m just kinda worried cause, like, my cousin got a huge injury trying to do that,” the first girl explained. “Giant gash on her leg and everything.”
“Yikes. Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she just…”
Amity tuned out the rest of the conversation, twisting her setting powder container closed and dropping it into the pouch. She wasn’t particularly sure if she wanted to finish the eyeliner here, because even with her ability to filter out every word said from the cheerleaders (when someone has a family who is always in some sort of stupid argument, it becomes a skill), the noises were overwhelming.
“Oh! Wait,” the blonde said as her phone lit up, grabbing a towel from a dispenser. Now, Amity actually listened in, hoping the two were finally leaving. “My mom’s calling, I gotta go. See you tomorrow at practice, Luz?”
Oh, that was her name. She remembered now. Luz nodded cheerfully, giving the blonde a tiny wave as she stepped out of the bathroom.
But, unfortunately for Amity, Luz wasn’t following after her friend. She zipped up the pouch, deciding she’d finish her makeup with her phone camera elsewhere. She was glad the other girl left, but with the other cheerleader still there, it honestly made it feel much more awkward. When she glanced up at the mirror, she saw Luz’s eyes lingering on her.
“Is there an issue?” Amity asked, not caring to keep the bite out of her tone. Luz frowned a little at that, and just the smallest, tiniest jab of guilt hit at Amity, but she was honestly too tired to really care.
“Oh! Nothing, just — “ Luz stumbled over her words a little, her hands wringing together. “I wanted to say your practicing was super good today.”
Amity raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure why this girl was even talking to her; most people understood that when Amity hit them with an irritated tone, it was a sign to leave her be. “I’m the captain. I always have to do well in rugby practice.”
“Well, yeah! I just meant…” Luz shrugged. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Amity had to admit that it was a little cute, but her patience was low and thinning.
“I’m running late. I’ll be going now,” Amity said, heaving up her backpack. She didn’t give Luz a chance to respond before she was already out of the bathroom, stepping into the school halls.
The hallway walls were adorned in Hexside decor. The most noticeable ones, at the moment, were the Glandus sucks and Hexside will win messages etched across blue and yellow banners. Amity always found the messages to be a little childish, though she had to admit, the whole school’s enthusiasm over the team she’s captain of gave her heart a small swell of pride.
She took slow steps towards the doors, basking in the afterschool silence. Amity knew the break for her ears would be disturbed the moment she stepped into her home, so she may as well enjoy this while it lasted.
Of course, just like in the bathroom, any moment of peace was short-lasting.
“Wait!” a voice called out, out of breath but recently recognizable.
Amity sighed, stopping in her tracks as the cheerleader caught up to her. This girl was only a little irritating, but now she was getting on Amity’s nerves. She glanced back, and muttered, “what do you want?”
“You left your makeup bag at the sink,” Luz explained hurriedly, the small pouch sitting in her palms. She offered a soft, awkward smile, while Amity’s expression was anything but.
Amity paused. That was, indeed, her makeup pouch, and a tiny weight of embarrassment settled in her stomach. She considered taking it and turning around without saying a word, but when she saw the hopeful glow in the other girl’s eyes as she picked it up, she muttered, “thanks.”
Luz’s smile grew, but Amity didn’t stand to look at it very long. She turned on her heels, making her way to the backdoor and out towards the sidewalk to wait for her butler to pick her up.
Her hand clenched the backpack strap as her shoes met the pavement. For whatever reason, her mind was stuck on Luz’s expression, on the way she kept fumbling her words or ran her hands through her curls. Amity sighed, trying to brush it away from her thoughts. She was too busy to fixate on something so random.
What a strange girl.