Chapter Text
Catra was late. Which was not her fault. Her only mode of transportation had been suspiciously slower these last few days. The gear thingy on her bike was starting to look more like a square than a circle and she was pretty sure that couldn’t be correct. She didn’t know shit about bikes.
Balls. Was she gonna have to learn about bikes now? She definitely couldn’t afford repairs and wouldn’t have even been able to get the bike in the first place if she hadn’t seen her kooky court-appointed guardian throwing it out and asked if she could take it instead. It was Catra’s idea for Razz to declutter her house in the first place so she didn’t have to be tripping over broken furniture, abandoned knickknacks, and random crap every time she came down to check on the old biddy. And Razz didn’t even bother giving Catra a heads up about any of the good shit she was hiding in there! Out of spite, contrary to what Razz had suggested, Catra didn’t spend the money she’d be saving on bus fare on a helmet.
So as she was speeding down the busy street behind her high school, watching the idiots she went there with get dropped off (or worse – park cars that their parents had bought them), she was well aware that she’d be rushing into homeroom looking like she hadn’t brushed her long, curly hair this morning. There was a 70% chance she wore this outfit yesterday, the faded black jeans and green flannel she’d found on the floor this morning. She mentally prepared herself for all the snickering in the halls between classes.
Some asshole was hovering near the almost-full bike rack, right at the spot where Catra usually locked hers up. It’s not like anyone would bother to steal the beater. But some of these fuckers might duct tape it to a basketball hoop or something stupid just to mess with her.
“Clear the way, dumbass,” Catra called out, hoping the person would move aside before she crashed into them.
They didn’t. The closer Catra got, the more she realized this wasn’t just some doofus texting their friends while they stood in the most inconvenient place possible. No, this was a purple hulk of a person, standing stock still in her sweatpants, football jersey, and jean jacket, staring right at Catra. The slight breeze shifted the person’s waist-length white braid but seemed to stop just as she glared at it.
In an attempt to throw the girl off, Catra pulled her bike to a stop, mere inches away from hitting her.
“Huntara,” Catra tried to growl. “I know you probably can’t read but the sign says ‘bicycle parking only.’ Not ‘idiot quarterback parking.’ Move it. I’m late.”
“Watch it, D’riluth,” Huntara said back, actually pulling off the threatening growl that Catra definitely hadn’t quite. “There’s still 5 minutes til homeroom. Plenty of time for me to break you and your piece of shit bike in half.”
“I gotta see a girl about a thing. So can you just schooch along?”
Huntara didn’t really move but Catra built up the courage to get off the bike and shimmy into the small space the jock managed to not take up. She slapped the chain and padlock that she'd repurposed (aka found in the junk behind the hardware store) and dashed into school.
Not wasting any time, Catra rushed through the halls, ignoring all the sea of plebes lazing around or mindlessly gossiping before class, until she was standing in front of someone who she definitely did not want to see this early in the morning.
“Octavia,” was all Catra said in greeting before she tried to discreetly shove a 5-page paper into the tall green delinquent’s hand. Not that Catra was judgy about the ‘delinquent’ part. She knew her struggling peers were basically her bread and butter and pulling themes from some old dead guy's words wasn't really a useful skill in the real world anyway.
Octavia didn't even look up in response, head still leant against her locker while she scrolled on her phone. She snatched the paper out of Catra's grip and dropped a half-balled $20 in its place.
Instead of a thanks, Octavia tossed Catra a half-assed peace sign. Catra zipped her backpack and was about to run off for another drop when Kyle gently waved from the next locker over. Her face was already apologetic.
“Again?” Catra asked.
“I just totally forgot-”
Catra interrupted with a quick “Don't care,” before retrieving another paper from her bag. “You're lucky I was in a generous mood last night and wrote extras.” Mr. Archer always assigned the same book to all four of his 12th grade English classes. It was easy enough for Catra to bang out 2 or 3 more essays on top of the ones people had commissioned in advance.
“Just write your name in pencil on the top. If Archer asks any questions, tell him you were too dumb to remember to actually put a heading. That should be easy enough to believe.”
After plucking the cash from Kyle, Catra took off to make the rounds, frantically hunting everyone down on her way to homeroom. She'd made about $100 before she noticed Kyle (the other one, the one they usually just called ‘Guy Kyle’) staring fearfully over her shoulder as Catra gave him his homework. People were usually intimidated by her, maybe even a little shook, but never downright terrified.
Catra glanced over her shoulder and finally noticed Huntara impatiently glaring at her.
“For fuck’s sake, are you still following me?” She pushed past Kyle to huff it to her class before the late bell rang out.
“You want this money or not?” Huntara asked in a voice that was threatening enough to make a couple nearby people scurry off.
Catra came to a sudden stop. She made sure to seem completely disinterested as she slowly turned to face Huntara.
“What do you need?”
Huntara took a few steps closer so she could lower her voice. “Adora Gray.”
Catra had to fight to keep from physically shaking.
“Like…trapped in your basement…?”
The death look that Huntara gave her made Catra feel like it was more likely she'd end up in Huntara’s basement.
“On a date.”
There were many questions that Catra had about this. For some dumb reason, she decided to ask “Why?”
Huntara shrugged her boulder of a shoulder. “She’s cute enough. Not bad to talk to. We just run out of stuff to say to each other all the time.”
“Maybe that’s a sign that you shouldn’t date,” Catra pointed out, taking her own life into her hands.
Huntara just gave her a condescending laugh. “You’re not exactly knuckle-deep in girls so you don’t get to judge. Has anyone ever even asked you out?”
Yes. Once, at least. It felt ironic to bring that up in this particular conversation so Catra just moved forward.
“But what the shit does this have to do with me then?” Catra asked, desperately wanting to be far away from this conversation and anything to do with the topic of Adora Gray.
“You write good.”
“Well,” Catra corrected in a bit of a daze. She was starting to have a terrible feeling about where this might be going.
“And well,” Huntara repeated, letting the point float completely over her giant mohawked head, “You can write out what I should say to her. Quick notes though, I don’t have a whole lot of time.” Huntara chewed on that thought for a second as Catra was grateful that she couldn't afford to eat breakfast and therefore wouldn't have anything to vomit up out of nerves right now. “Maybe you can write a couple texts for me to send to her.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Entrapta replied. She didn’t bother to look up from her seat on the floor of the computer lab. There was a desktop tower in her lap but the insides of it were both haphazardly just lying in there or strewn about on the floor and on her legs. It was definitely too many wires. Entrapta frowned a little before adding, “You and Adora were incredibly close for several grades. Does Huntara not remember that?”
“I don’t think everyone catalogs other people’s behavior like you do,” Catra replied, lounging on a nearby desk. She was lazily using a pen to pick some dried mud off her boots.
Entrapta pondered on that idea for a moment. “Seems like a missed opportunity for you all. Anyway, why would Huntara ask someone who already dated Adora to help her date Adora?”
“We didn’t date!” Catra argued. Her voice was just all over the fucking place, going from screeching to stammering to disappearing into her empty stomach. “We were just friends.”
“Incredibly close friends then. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so close. Are you sure you didn’t-”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Didn’t she take you to a sophomore dance?”
“We rode in the same car and then stood near each other.” Catra wasn’t about to include the other details about how Adora had shyly asked her. How they’d gotten ready together. How they’d hid under the bleachers to slow dance alone. How that would be the last time they were friends.
“So your public breakup was in fact, not actually a break up?” Entrapta pushed.
“It was not! And it wasn’t public!”
“Multiple witnesses saw your argument,” Entrapta added, like Catra didn't replay that moment in her head often and wasn't extremely aware of every painful detail of it.
“It’s high school — aren’t people supposed to forget these things?”
“You overestimate the amount of interesting things happening in Bright Moon.”
“Fair. Anyway, will you help?”
“Oh. You took the job?” Entrapta looked up from her wires for the first time. The gaze she gave Catra had the same type of determined yet puzzled expression. “Sure. Happy to be of service.”
Catra gave a relieved nod. “Thanks.”
“I’ll just fill Scorpia in,” Entrapta added casually. She had her phone out and was rapidly texting before Catra could stop her.
Not 5 minutes later, Scorpia rushed in, red-faced and out of breath. She looked like she was burning up in her thick red and gold letterman jacket.
“Wildcat!” Scopia wheezed out. “You and Adora are getting back together? I’m so happy to hear that. If she hurts you again though…” For the first time since Catra had met Scorpia in 4th grade, the big bug’s affable, overly friendly demeanor dropped completely as she narrowed her eyes threateningly. “I will end her.”
Catra blinked at her slowly, tugging on the sleeve of her own dark green flannel shirt reflexively. “So 1: what the hell is up with you? 2: Adora and I were never together. And 3: we’re never gonna be together! I’m just taking a job for Huntara. She wants to date Adora.”
“Oh. Oh, wow,” Scorpia said before falling into a desk chair behind her, sagging with relief. “Wait… Huntara? And Adora? Huh. Would not have guessed it. Never really see them together. And Adora’s never mentioned her.”
Catra tilted her head as she looked at Scorpia. Since the A-word was clearly on the list of banned discussion topics for the past 2 years, Catra had mostly forgotten that Scorpia and Adora played field hockey together. Partially because the immense gayness of that sentence was too much for her mind to comprehend. But mostly because she'd committed to wiping all the vicarious hockey knowledge she'd gained over years of friendship with Adora from her brain forever.
But! This presented a helpful opportunity. Scorpia was friendly with literally everyone. No one had it in them to be rude to someone so nice (and so clearly capable of flattening them with her muscles.) Lord knows why she chose to hang around Entrapta, who was basically an enigma to the rest of their class, or Catra, who seemed to be feared and loathed in equal measure. Scorpia built connections with everyone though, especially her teammates and all the other jocks. If this gig required an inside angle, Scorpia could come in very handy.
“I don't like that face,” Scorpia said. “You're scheming.”
“Just coming up with backup plans. I'm pretty sure this won't take more than an hour – a couple notes for Huntara to copy, maybe some pics she could take to send, suggested best times to send a ‘u up?’ text. But if I need more, I just need a plan.”
“I think it's gonna be a little more complicated than that, buddy,” Scorpia said cautiously.
Catra didn't much appreciate the sadass look Scorpia was trying to hide from her.
She pretended to laugh it off. “It'll be a slam dunk. Even Huntara won't be able to fuck this up.”
“Scorpia means because of your personal feelings,” Entrapta said, after what felt like hours of silence from her. She had a tendency to do that, swinging back and forth from talking endlessly or just focusing so much she didn’t speak for long periods of time. It had probably only been a handful of minutes since she’d decided to dive back into whatever computer autopsy she was up to, but her words felt like some grand proclamation that Catra would absolutely be having none of.
“What personal feelings? This is business. I need cash and Huntara’s paying.”
“You are being intentionally obtuse,” Entrapta said. And then smartly added, “I'd like my cut upfront just in case.”
After a negotiation with Entrapta that made Catra miss her entire free period, she made it to her next class early enough to grab her favorite seat in the back.
This was her daily injection of unbearable awkwardness – the ten seconds Catra had between hearing Glitter’s obnoxious laugh from the hall and the asshole entering the room with Adora and Bow in a line behind her. A brief window where Catra had to make sure that her eyes were focused on literally anything except the front of the room and that her face was locked into ‘stone-cold bitch’ mode.
Catra was in honors classes for basically everything else, which made it easy to avoid Adora, who was a good student but always tested terribly at the end of year cause she usually worked herself up into an anxiety spiral. As the guidance counselor had explained repeatedly, there was no Honors Art and no other art class that fit in Catra's schedule. She was doomed to spend an hour with Adora and her replacement best friends every single day.
The three quieted a little when they clearly saw Catra sitting there, same as they always did, before taking over two tables in the 2nd row. Bow, class president and beloved by everyone, and Glimmer, social chair and tolerated by most, sat together as usual. Adora, perfect Adora with her stupid smiling face greeting everyone and her clear path to prom queen or some other useless arbitrarily assigned token of popularity, sat alone. For two years, in any class that involved shared desks, Adora had filled the extra one with her bag or her sports junk or whatever. A clear sign that no one was welcome next to her.
That used to be Catra’s spot. Catra wasn’t welcome.
The three continued on with their conversation, just at a much lower volume. There was no doubt that Adora must have told her friends about Catra’s excellent hearing. Anytime they were in the same general space, suddenly Glimmer, who could probably still be heard in a coliseum of screaming thousands, learned how to use her inside voice. Couldn’t have nosey Catra overhearing their ‘super cool’ plans to stay up til midnight past their bedtime and braid each other’s hair or whatever bullshit these idiots got up to.
They’d only been casual friends with Bow and Glimmer when Catra and Adora stopped talking. Up until then, the sparkle duo were just two kids who they saw in class or said hi to at Adora’s games. With Catra out of the way, they slid immediately into Adora’s life like they were meant to be there. They fit better anyway. All ‘nice’ kids from ‘good’ families with ‘amazing’ lives.
That fucking pile of dicks.
“Catra, are you paying attention to one single word I’m saying?” Spinnerella asked.
She had to blink a couple times to remember where she was, here and now in this shitty art room that smelled like paint and with their teacher and most of the room staring at her like the weirdo she was. Catra glanced down – no, she had not been paying attention; she’d been subconsciously drawing a pile of dicks in her notebook.
Generally, if she was in a mood – which she most definitely was today – Catra would sass back at her teacher. But Spinny was nice enough and her wife was the guidance counselor and the absolute last thing Catra needed today was another attempt at someone trying to force her to talk about her feelings.
“Sure,” she grunted out.
Spinnerella clearly didn't believe that but seemed to realize it wasn't worth disrupting more of class over.
Today was a quiet day thankfully. Spinny had them working on still life so everyone just had to shut their mouths and start painting some damn apples.
“D’riluth,” a familiar voice said shortly. “Spare some red.”
Catra looked up mid-stroke to see Glimmer standing over her table. Where Bow had become distantly polite and Adora absolutely non-existent, Glitter’s feelings toward Catra waffled from supremely annoyed to slightly bearable.
In addition to the wealth of red on her palette, Catra also had a full tube right on her desk. She slowly dropped her eyes to Glimmer’s mostly empty palette before very obviously looking at the girl’s impatient frown then down her body, past her lavender v-neck sweater, the hint of bare midriff it showed, and the tight fit of her pale blue jeans.
“What do I get in return?” Catra asked, making her voice sound as smarmy as possible. When she looked back up, Glimmer’s frown was deepening but it couldn’t mask how her cheeks warmed.
Glimmer sighed angrily like she wasn’t the one bugging someone else. “The school paid for the paint, D’riluth. Just give me some without being a fucking creep please.”
“You’re no fun today,” Catra replied before picking up the tube of paint and pointing it at Glimmer.
She waited until Glimmer had her hands on it, ignoring the tacky glittery nail polish she wore. Catra tugged the tube quickly to catch Glimmer off guard. With the girl suddenly teetering over, Catra shoved herself into Glimmer’s space.
“Super cute top,” Catra said facetiously, trying to sound like one of those empty-headed ditzes that ruled the social hierarchy around there.
Glimmer blushed more deeply before snatching the tube and rushing back to her station. As Catra returned to painting, she felt at least one set of eyes lingering on her for way too long.
“What did she say to you?” she heard Adora whisper.
Catra must’ve looked completely out of her mind, focusing so intently on just drawing a red circle that any kindergartner could have done.
“Nothing,” Glimmer replied. She sounded like someone who was tired of having a conversation that had barely even started.
“Didn’t look like nothing,” Adora mumbled angrily.
Glimmer muttered something to herself but all Catra could make out was “act like a jealous idiot…” and “...fucking do something about it…”
Catra carried on, pretending she didn’t have a care in the world. Adora was so bitter and obsessed. How pathetic. It was still so easy to get under her skin.
Entrapta was wrong. This was gonna be some of the easiest cash they ever made.