Chapter Text
Ava adjusts her 2010 Justin Bieber wig. It makes her scalp feel overheated, itchy and sweaty. Her shoes (two sizes too big on purpose) left muddy impressions on the grass. There has been a slight drizzle all morning. Ava considered that it may have been an omen, that she should drop her convoluted plan but all she had to do was remember what Coach Adriel said to her and her team. Her volleyball team was getting cut from the school because of budgetary reasons. When she suggested trying out for the men’s volleyball team, Coach Adriel sputtered a laugh. Quickly realizing that she was serious, he said, “Girls aren’t as fast as boys. Or as strong. Or as athletic.”
A furtive pit of embarrassment and shame swirled in her stomach, followed by a surge of anger so strong it could leak through her skin.
So she asked Chanel to dress her up like her twin brother Michael. Their striking facial similarities was something she heard countless of times. Ether Michael only had to grow out his hair, or she only had to cut hers, and they would have looked alike.
Chanel protested fervently at first. Reasonably so, Ava would bitterly admit. But she convinced her in the end. “Unlimited treat of tater tots for five months,” Chanel proposed.
Ava was able to haggle it down to three months. Worth it.
Which brings her to Michael’s school, ArqTech University. The rival school of Divinium University– her university, her home .
She felt like a dead man walking ArqTech’s cobblestone path, seeing its colors displayed prominently everywhere. The color combination that she has loathed for the past three years. Donning ArqTech’s uniform that fitted so wrong, not only because it was purposely loose on her, but because it felt like she was betraying her team, the Halo Bearers.
Now she was carrying a duffle bag that had the ArqTech logo. Filled with statement shirts and baggy pants, strategically picked to hide her soft curves and to make her appear as boxy as possible.
Now she felt the full weight of her decision. She was really about to pose as a boy for a few weeks, going out of her way, deliberately inconveniencing herself just to prove a misogynist completely wrong–it made perfect sense.
The men’s dorm was exactly as she expected. Smelly and unkempt. Her nostrils were assaulted with odor from different areas of the body commingling together to form a stench so strong she could taste it on her tongue. She passed by an already full trash can with a pizza box sitting on top of it with one slice left. A guy on a skateboard rolled past her, snatched the pizza, and ate it.
Disgust pulled the corners of her mouth as far down as it would go. She fought the instinct to turn around on her heels, sprint away and just take the bus home.
She adjusted the strap of her bag and kept her eyes peeled for her room number. She passed by several widely-opened doors that offered a view inside. In one room, there was a guy in only his briefs sitting on the floor, legs splayed, mouth hung open, fingers darting on the controller as he played a racing game. In another room, a guy was playing darts, the board hung on one wall, surrounding it were holes that showed his poor aim. In another room, was a guy speaking into a microphone, in which, to Ava’s horror, he was recording a podcast.
She tore her eyes away from it and fast-walked to the end of the hallway. She stuck her head outside an opened window. A light breeze devoid of Axe deodorant spray greeted her.
Recalling Coach Adriel’s stupid face and his stupid sneer and his stupid whistle that hung stupidly around his neck.
“Hey! You my roommate?”
Ava whipped her head around. A lean, tall, boy with curly hair stood in the middle of a room nearby. She looked at the number on the door. It was her assigned room. He looked familiar. It took a minute for Ava to place his face.
It wasn’t until she saw a framed photo of him on his desk. His was captured mid-spike, his whole body forming a backwards C: legs bent under, chest outward, arm completely drawn back, muscles groups strained and bulging–the perfect form, ready to release a powerful spike.
JC. ArqTech’s golden volleyboy.
He was wearing cargo shorts and an ArqTech hoodie in maroon. He looked different when he wore something casual instead of his school’s jersey uniform. More so because Ava usually sees him with his hair tied up in a curly sprout that would bounce on top of his head. He coupled that with a sports headband to really hold the front of his hair back in place.
Ava understood that. In the rules of volleyball, if a player’s hair touches the net, it will be considered a net fault. A point lost to a technicality is a painful blow.
Ava herself has to tie her hair up in a tight bun and go over some areas with hair clips in case strands might slip away during the game.
JC looked very laid-back now with the full fluff of his hair framing his face. He looked cute. Too cute that Ava forgot that she hadn’t replied to him yet.
“Uh…” she made a final glance at the room number and the number on her assignment sheet. “Yup. This is–” she cleared her throat and dropped her voice two octaves lower, “This is me.”
She hadn’t realized he was this tall. Now, it made sense that his attack ball would always go over Coach Adriel’s blockers, no matter how high they leaped, no matter how straight they kept their arms, no matter how tightly packed they jumped together.
“JC,” he put his hand forward, his biceps in full view for Ava to gawk at before ripping her eyes away.
Ava was playing a boy. A straight boy. “Av…Michael. Michael.”
“Nice to meet you, Av-Michael.”
“Just Michael.”
“I know, man. Just messing with you.” He flashed a grin that showed his dimples.
He was supposed to be her roommate and teammate? Ava was in trouble.
“You’re new here, aren’t you? Your uniform is too clean.”
“Yeah. Got expelled at my last school.”
JC put his fist on his lips, grinning wide. “What’d you do?”
Ava sat on the vacant mattress. She was about to cross her legs before she caught herself. She propped her elbows on her knees instead. “Just skipped classes.”
“Was hoping for a more exciting reason.”
Ava felt it. The urge to impress. No. The need to impress. JC was the captain of the ArqTech Warriors. He might put in a good word. “I skipped classes to practice with my band.”
“Your band?”
“What do you play?”
“Lead guitar. Lead vocalist.”
JC nodded. “Alright. We gotta see that at the school fair coming up.”
Ava felt her shoulders slump with the too-late realization that she just dug herself a hole. “Great.”
Ava gestured to his framed photo. “So, uh. You know when the volleyball tryouts are?”
“This afternoon. You’re trying out?”
“Definitely.”
JC looked her up and down. It was a different kind of visual assessment she usually got from guys. “You’re a little bit short. How are your digs?”
Traditionally, if a player wasn’t that gifted in height, they get the position of libero who digs for short balls because they can get on the ground much lower and much faster than tall players.
Although Ava was short, even for women’s volleyball, she makes up for it with her high jumps and powerful spikes. That’s why Ava’s position is the same as JC’s–outside hitter.
“Good, decent. But my spikes are lethal.”
JC’s brows shot up, a slight smirk on his lips. “Really? Can’t wait to see it later then. I’ll look out for this…lethal spike.”
There was an underlying tone in his delivery. Ava can’t quite place it. But she knew that unlike her promise of playing guitar and singing well, she can actually deliver on this one.
***
Ava has only observed Coach Superion from afar. Usually because Ava was always seated herself on the opposite side of the court with her Divinium family cheering with her.
Coach Superion, was always seen with her usual black zip-up sports jacket and black joggers. The only indication that she was the ArqTech’s coach was her wooden staff, painted in ArqTech’s colors of blue and orange. The handle was chiseled with the Psi symbol from the Greek alphabet (Ψ) as ArqTech’s logo usually used it in place of the letter T.
Ava remembers observing that walking stick when it would point at a player. Coach Superion’s coaching technique was vastly different from Coach Adriel’s. He would pace the side of the court, shout while the ball is in play, and give instructions in broad strokes. He also had a habit of clapping in front of a player’s face to get them to sharpen up.
Sometimes she sat herself next to the Halo-Bearers to whisper her observations to Coach Adriel about the flaws of the ArqTech Warriors’ game. He always took it in stride. He always took her seriously when it came to that. Which made his absolute dismissal of her suggestion to join the team sting even more.
Coach Superion, however, stood still. Her hands would never leave the head of that walking stick, even when she calls a time out. She will have an assistant beside her who would hold the coaching board up for her players to see, the next game plan already laid out.
Of course Ava never heard what she said. Whether she berated her players, pointed out their mistakes, or encouraged them, or told them to try better–she didn’t know.
She only saw how Coach Superion spoke. Her chin was always leveled, her eyes shifting from player to player as she calmly spoke to them. All of her team would surround her, propping their arms on their knees to lower themselves to hear her better, some would occasionally nod.
When their huddle was over, the team captain, JC, would put his hand to join Coach Superion on her walking stick. The rest of the team would follow him, laying their hands on top of his, the others, because they would be too far away to reach, would only hold their hand out to show solidarity.
JC would yell “ARQTECH!” and the team would call back, “IN THIS LIFE!”
Ava had always found it stupid but her school wasn’t any better. Coach Adriel would call out “BEARERS!” and his team would respond with “HALO’S UP!”
“You mean it wasn’t up all this whole time?” Ava would always joke.
Her mouth quirked up at the memory of Coach Adriel’s exasperated face whenever she did that. Now, she was trying out for the ArqTech Warriors’ team. The team she unabashedly hated. The team she analyzed year by year, competition by competition, just so they can beat them both in women’s and men’s volleyball.
Since she couldn’t wear her very fitting volleyball jerseys and shorts. She entered the gym in a loose jersey that she copped from the thrift store. It was the only jersey that wouldn’t go past her knees. It had the last name of a player she hadn't even heard of but she was sure it was an NBA athlete.
The Warriors’ hadn’t arrived yet, neither did Coach Superion.
She joined the group of guys that looked as nervous as she was. Some were practicing their setting form, some were stretching, some were doing footwork–completely engrossed in their own activities to pass the time.
One person was dribbling the ball and shot it at the basketball hoop. That was when there was a loud slam that echoed through the gym. Coach Superion stood in her signature all-black outfit. Behind her, the ArqTech Warriors poured out in a line and made their way to the court.
Ava’s eyes met JC who nodded at her. He mimed a spike and mouthed “lethal” before giving her a playful smile.
Ava felt her stomach flutter before mentally crushing every butterfly inside her gut that dared to flap its wings.
Coach Superion’s eyes were like slits. “If I ever see somebody throw a volleyball towards a basketball hoop again, I will personally see to it that they will be blacklisted in upcoming volleyball and basketball tryouts throughout their whole stay here in ArqTech”
The person who made the shot slinked further behind the group.
Coach Superion made her way to the court, her shoes barely made any sound. It was her walking stick thudding on the hardwood floors that broke the intervals of silence.
“Quite a turnout we have today.”
Ava felt prickly heat from her scalp caused by the wig again. She felt a bead of sweat running down the curve of her spine before her chest binder that made her boobs disappear, soaked it up.
“I’m recognizing some familiar faces but mostly new ones. Young. Freshmen.” Coach Superion’s eyes landed on Ava’s. “Aspirants.”
Coach Superion took her time. Allowing the silence to take root before she spoke again.
“For those who aren’t aware, the Warriors will be trying out with you. I am a big believer in starting things fresh. So as of the moment, the members of the ArqTech Warriors are zero.”
There was low mumbling from the newbies and chuckling from the current (well, former) players.
“This also prevents players from getting complacent. I hate complacency. Nothing is a sure win. Nothing is permanent. So. Twelve available spots up for grabs. For those past members, strive to take your place back. For those new faces, strive to replace them.”
The men exchanged glances. Ava felt the testosterone shot up almost immediately. Chests got puffed, chins got jutted.
Ava was buzzing with excitement to sweep these boys up under the rug.
“For the next hour we will be doing drills. I better see stamina. I better see correct form. Then we will be doing a one-set match. I better see technique. I better see communication.”
She snapped her fingers and a training staff wheeled in a blackboard with 9 workout drills written on it. Ava recognized all of them. They were strategically picked to target 3 core drills: blocking, setting, and hitting.
If Coach Superion wanted stamina and correct form, Ava will give her stamina and correct form. Ava could do all 9 of these drills in her sleep.
That spot is hers.
“After the game, I will also be picking the first 6. Again. Nothing is permanent. That line-up will likely change in the coming weeks. The ‘how’ is completely up to you.”
The first 6 are the players that initially start the game. Usually, these are the players that are the best at their assigned position.
So scratch that. Ava is not just claiming a spot in the ArqTech Warriors, she is claiming the spot of Opposite Spiker. Replacing JC and pushing him off to another position.
***
They started with jousting. It was a crucial technique to master. When a ball is falling somewhere close to the middle of the net, players from both sides joust for the ball. Essentially jumping at the same time, each latching from both sides of the ball and shoving it to fall onto the opposing team’s side.
The move is a standoff between whose abdominal muscles are stronger. Ava’s abs were very firm and toned. They weren’t there just for show but, boy, she loved to show it off.
She can’t now, though, for obvious reasons.
Instead she had to hide her abs in this hideous jersey. She was going to tuck the hem in her shorts but she decided against it because it might show the cinch in her waist and that is not at all “masculine”.
The recently cut members of the Warriors went first. It was clear that they wanted to retain their spot in the team with how they were lunging. Their drills were quick, clean, evident that they’ve won three championships.
Coach Superion called the newbies. Ava walked confidently to the net. When she looked up she was struck with a horrible realization. A realization that rattled her confidence.
The net was higher than what she was used to–7 centimeters higher to be exact. The 7 centimeter difference between the men and women’s volleyball for the net height requirement.
It might as well be high as that basketball net, Ava thought.
A co-newbie threw the ball towards her. It slipped from her fingers but she quickly retrieved it and prayed that Coach Superion missed that.
The whistle blew. Ava tossed the ball upwards and lunged for it. Her hands could barely pass the net but she easily overpowered her partner with every joust.
The rest of the drills went fine but Ava couldn’t deny that the former Warriors were good and she struggled to keep up with them.
The whistle blew again. Coach Superion, who sat at a chair the entire time as she supervised the drills, gestured to one of the coaching staff who then divided them into groups of 6.
A game of 3 on 3 to accommodate the 18 students.
JC’s group went first. He got paired with 2 newbies versus 2 former Warriors and 1 newbie. The game ended so fast. JC kept targeting the newbie who could never receive his ball properly and would fly out of bounds.
Ava quickly realized what the former Warriors were up to. They were all targeting newbies. They were carving back the space that was taken from them and they were doing it together.
Ava didn’t take it personally. She would have done the same thing. But this didn’t keep her from getting angry.
Her group went last. She got paired with 1 former Warrior and 1 newbie. They were going head to head with 2 Warriors and 1 newbie.
From the first 5 rallies, Ava sensed that they were targeting her more than the other newbie. How they decided this was what Ava was assessing while the game was going on. The player that she knew by name was Hans–a setter.
In volleyball, a team is only allowed 3 touches before they need to send it back to the opposing side. A setter usually receives the 2nd touch for them to set the ball for another player who will spike it, completing the 3rd and final touch.
This meant that although Hans did not have the same level of spiking ability as Ava, he could most likely receive her spikes perfectly if he targeted him. Which led Ava to target the other former Warrior who Ava did not recognize. He was a rookie, most probably. She didn’t see him in their last competition. If he was a bench player, all the more reason to target him.
Ava felt it pointless to relay her observations to her teammates. If the former Warriors were still playing as a team and protecting the same 12 spots, she needed to stand out as the only newbie who could give them a run for their money.
Ava was receiving all of their spikes with ease.
She called for the ball whenever she could and when they gave it to her, she’d leap as high as she could, much higher than she normally did just so she could pass the net. She would then shoot an attack ball to the newbie or to the other former Warrior or even between them so they get confused as to who should receive it.
At one point she sent the ball straight to the former Warrior who failed to block it in time. It hit him square on the head and sent him reeling back.
In the end, Ava’s team still lost 19-25. But Ava was confident that she did the best she could do. She played better than half of the former Warriors. Coach Superion must have seen that.
But if she were being brutally honest with herself they were just a little bit faster, jumped a little higher, spiked a little heavier. This cute little tryout game for them felt like a championship game for her.
Girls aren’t as fast as boys. Or as strong. Or as athletic.
She balled her hands into fists. A resurgence of anger towards Coach Adriel. Punctuated by the possibility that he may have been right.
They lined up and waited for Coach Superion who gave one last final look at her clipboard. She stood in front of them. “Those names I will call, congratulations.”
Unsurprisingly, JC’s name was called. Hans, as well. And all of the former ArqTech Warriors except–
“Michael Silva.”
The newly-minted ArqTech Warriors whipped their heads to look at Ava. 11 pairs of eyes stared at her in shock. JC had a little smirk.
But slowly, they all redirected their eyes at their fallen former teammate, the rookie that Ava targeted. Ava didn’t know his name. If she were any other person, she would have felt sympathy and guilt but this was volleyball and the game was cruel as it is wonderful.
“Those names that I did not call, thank you for showing up and giving everything you got. I hope to see you next tryouts. You may exit.”
The ArqTech Warriors flocked to the person who got cut before they formed a line again. Coach Superion waited until the last person went out and the door closed.
“Now, as I said. I will also be choosing the first 6 today.” She gave the clipboard back to the training staff.
Ava felt her hands clam up. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. She repeated her name–well, Michael’s name–in her head, willing Coach Superion to say it.
But she didn’t. And Ava was devastated.
She felt a heavy hand clap her shoulder and she looked up to JC’s eyes. “Lethal spike is right! You were flying!”
She evaded his eyes but mustered up a half-smile. “Congrats on making it back to the team.”
He shook his head and clapped both her shoulders this time. Ava winced. Is masculine affection always so painful? “Congrats to you for making it in!”
Ava's fake smile finally faltered. She watched the other players file out of the gym, afraid somebody might overhear. “I was actually hoping to get into the first 6.” She admitted shyly.
JC waved it off. “Oh, come on! Didn’t you hear Coach? First 6 are always changing. You got plenty of chances. And, hey, you booted Brad off during tryouts! You got the spunk!”
In an effort to make herself feel better, she tried to absorb his words, make them reach her heart. But it didn’t even get past her throat. She held herself to an incredibly high standard to the annoyance of both her and others. What was satisfactory to some was only halfway decent to her.
She could only give a measly nod.
JC chuckled. “I know that face. There’s only one way to wipe it off.” He grabbed a ball from a nearby storage cart. “Here. Practice. If I see you back at the dorms after only an hour, I’m telling Coach.” He joked.
***
The gym was already closing so Ava went out the back of the building that had a bricked wall. She could bounce the ball on it to practice her receives.
She still had boiling anger bubbling up the surface and she was trying to simmer her head down. The pace of the ball quickened, returning to her in quick succession as her emotions affected her spikes. She was angry at Coach Adriel, at herself for proving him right, at Coach Superion for not seeing her worth, at the crazy double standard that she has always fought against in this sport.
She caught the ball with both hands and threw it on the wall. It bounced high up and landed over a shed and out of sight. Next thing Ava heard was broken glass.
Ava winced. Her instinct was to run but her conscience glued her feet to the ground. She cursed and went to the source of the casualty.
Ava entered a greenhouse or, more accurately, what used to be a greenhouse but was turned into a storage unit. Zero plants, many crates. Ava heard glass crackling when she took another step. She looked up.
Broken glass panes showed an orange sky as the sun descended somewhere in the West.
Ava looked under the wooden tables for the ball.
“Does this belong to you?”
Ava turned.
A girl in a crisp ArqTech uniform stood there with the ball in her hands. Ava’s head tilted at how she held it, palms atop each other, like it was an offertory.
The girl’s face was disapproving but not unkind.
“Yeah, thanks.” Ava made to retrieve the ball but the girl turned on her heel, “Follow me,” her ponytail bouncing as she went out the greenhouse. They went through a zigzag of hallways. Students have already exited for the school day and all of the halls are now empty. The silence was broken only by the girl’s shoes clacking against the tiled floor.
“Where are we going?” Ava tried.
Silence.
“You know, if you’re gonna kidnap me, I know a lot of big people.”
Ava’s peers were all unemployed students who wielded no political power whatsoever but this girl didn’t know that.
The girl continued walking no doubt sensing the emptiness of Ava’s threat. She held the ball about her front. If she wasn’t holding it like an offertory, she held it like a pregnant lady securing her bump.
“Hey! Woman!”
The girl stopped in her tracks.
Ava was shocked that that was the one that worked. It was only later that Ava would guess the reason why. Using that word would have been fine if a girl used it. But if a guy said it, (which Ava was and which Ava would do well to not forget) it had a different effect. “If you’re going to tell on me to an adult, they’ve all gone home. Look around!”
The girl neither turned nor responded. She only heaved out an exhale and resumed her walking.
Ava groaned. “If you think that ball means a lot to me, you can have it. I’m going home.”
Right when Ava was about to turn, the girl turned a knob and pushed a door open. She faced Ava while addressing somebody in that room. “One of your ArqTech players has damaged school property, Principal Superion.”
Ava wanted to shove her head straight into the wall.
The girl took a step back and gestured for Ava to enter. A smug curve of her mouth rivaled Ava’s scowling face. It took a long time for Ava to remove her eyes from the girl, assuring her that she may have won this battle, but not the war.
Coach/Principal Superion had her elbows resting on the armrests. The expression on her face was a duplicate copy of when she was clipping students’ hopes and dreams less than an hour ago.
“Coach! I didn’t know you were also the principal!” Ava heard the tremble of her voice.
“I’m not. This is only in an acting capacity.” She said in a monotone voice. She looked at the girl. “This is a serious accusation, Ms. Young. I hope you can back that up.”
Young . Ava already loathed her last name with the heat of a thousand suns. She’ll hate her first name even more once she finds it out.
“She can’t back it up, Coach, because she didn’t actually see me.”
“I knew that volleyball tryouts happened earlier. He's wearing basketball shorts and a soaked jersey. If that’s not enough, the gym was already closed but he still had a ball with him which not only supports my hypothesis that he tried out for you, but also direct evidence that he was going to bring this ball home with him thereby stealing school property. To add insult to injury, this very ball that he stole broke the glass panes of the greenhouse that, to no one’s surprise, is close to the gym.”
The girl turned her head to look at Ava, challenging her, waiting for her rebuttal.
Ava felt herself prune up. She wished for a comically large eagle to break the ceiling and snatch her up. She wanted to say that it was JC who urged her to take the ball outside the gym but she wasn’t about to make another enemy on her first day, no less her roommate, her volleyball captain, and the only person who has shown her any lick of kindness since she got here.
Some-Stupid-First-Name Young stepped forward and placed the ball on Coach Superion’s desk. She turned it so the ball showed the writing on it in permanent marker. It was a bit smudged but it very clearly said “ARQTECH - A.Y. 2020”, Ava guessed that the same words were written on the back, where Coach Superion’s eyes landed on it.
“Very well.” Coach’s lips were on a thin line. “Mr. Silva. After stealing and damaging school property, you are effectively removed from the Warriors.”
Ava felt like she was shot with a barbed arrows right on her chest
“It's a shame that this is your first impression on your first day.”
At that, the girl slightly turned her head to look at Ava and quickly said, “Actually, Principal Superion I was hoping that maybe she would just pay to replace the glass ceilings.”
Coach Superion pursed her lips, thinking. “Are you amenable to that, Mr. Silva?”
“H-how much…?” she asked the girl.
“70 per piece and you broke 3.”
Ava didn’t know if she had any blood left in her face, it felt like it all dropped to her stomach. “I don’t have that kind of money! I’m a broke college student!”
“What about your parents?” Mystery-First-Name Young whispered to Ava.
She didn’t look at her, after getting her into trouble, she turns around and offers her a solution? Please. “I don’t have that money with me, Coach.” She repeated, deliberately refusing to acknowledge the girl’s suggestion. “Maybe 1 glass pane. And a half.”
Coach turned to look back at Probably-Stupid-Name Young. “Counteroffer?”
Ava was already thinking of hauling her bags that were still unpacked (thankfully) and sneaking out of the dorms at night. She’ll forget this ever happened and will probably laugh at it inside her own greenhouse that she’ll build complete with indestructible glass panes not matter how many balls were thrown at it.
“Well…” she glanced at Ava who still refused to meet her eyes. “He could join my botany club. We haven’t reached our desired number of volunteers to adequately prepare for the summer activities. And we have a lot on our calendar so…we could use another pair of hands.”
Coach looked to Ava for a response. Having no other cards to play, she accepted.
Coach nodded once. “Great. Since Mr. Silva’s afternoons are free from practice, he now has plenty of time to report to you.”
“Wait, Coach, I–I beg you to reconsider.”
“The matter is only settled as to the damage to the greenhouse, Mr. Silva. You still have one more offense and that’s stealing my team’s ball. Which is more personal to me. How do you suppose you remedy that?”
Ava felt her throat dry up. She swallowed before, “I could…give you another ball?”
“Another ball? A worn-out ball from your childhood? Deflated and sad?”
“A new ball.”
Coach’s brow shot up. “Mikasa?”
All the air escaped Ava’s lungs. She was thinking of giving a Wilson brand. The cheapest one she could find. She couldn’t afford a Mikasa.
But she did have one.
She won it during her senior year in high school when she was awarded the MVP title. She never played it, it meant too much. It was proudly displayed on her bookshelf back at home. Her heart ached at the sacrifice.
“Mikasa.”
***
Ava sprinted as soon as she passed the threshold of Coach Superion’s office.
“Michael, wait.”
Ava visibly blanched at that. It wasn’t her name but it sounded weird coming from her mouth. “How do you know my name?” She asked without stopping. Lame-Name Young followed.
“Your profile was on the Principal's desk. I glanced at it. Look, if I had known you were new here, I wouldn’t have been so–”
“So?” Ava whipped around so fast, Funny-Name Young almost crashed into her. “A headache? Your good deed almost cost me a place on the team! The only reason I transferred here.”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“Exactly! You don’t know what other people are going through. There are more important things than your stupid greenhouse.”
“Typical of you to make a woman answer for the consequences of your own actions.”
Ava fought the urge to blow her cover right there. Her head was steaming from anger so much, it was a wonder her wig didn’t frizz up.
“And I kind of did! And I deeply regret it. If I knew this was how you were going to respond I would have left you to get kicked out of the team and the school.”
Young turned to walk away. “Club orientation meeting tomorrow at lunch.” She called out. “If you’re late by as much as 1 minute, I’ll remove you from the club and push for you to pay for the glass panes.”
On the way out of the building, Ava saw a flyer for the botany club asking for volunteers. It was headed by Beatrice Young.
Beatrice .
Ava will make her pay.