One Perfect Year at Stevenson High

Chapter 27

Catra sat in one of the stiff chairs in Coach Weaver's office, her arms crossed tightly as she fought to stay awake. It was too early for this—before the Valkyries' morning practice, which was early enough as it was—and she couldn't even pretend to give a shit.

Coach Weaver paced behind her desk, hands clasped tightly behind her back.

"You're wasting precious time," Coach Weaver hissed as she made another lap.

Miserable, Catra sank lower in her seat. "What do you want from me? I'm working on it, sheesh."

"You know what I want from you." Coach Weaver whirled around, her dark hair whipping as she moved. Catra jerked back but kept her glare strong. "What is taking so long?"

"If you want us to take the glee club down from the inside, you've got to give us time to earn their trust first," Catra said, her stomach churning with what might have been guilt. "They're not stupid — they know something's up."

Or at least Adora does, she thought. She bit her lip and forced the memory of that night on the front steps of the group home back into the recesses of her mind.

"Is that so?"

Catra's ears perked up. She recognized that tone — the way Coach Weaver masked her distrust in notes of intrigue. Slowly, Coach Weaver rounded her desk and came to stand at Catra's side. It was as though Catra could feel the ill-intent radiating off of her, and she edged to the far side of her seat just to be free of it.

"Have you done something to rouse suspicion?" Coach Weaver asked.

"Of course not," Catra balked, letting her facade of indifference slip and immediately hating herself for it.

Coach Weaver placed a hand on her shoulder. Her long fingers curled, the tips digging in tightly until Catra winced. "I expect movement on the plan. The next time we meet, you will have something to tell me."

Fuck you, is what Catra thought.

"Whatever you say, Coach," is what she said.

*

After morning practice, Catra sulked through the halls alone. She'd managed to shake Scorpia and DT — the last thing she wanted to do right now was deal with their prying questions. Exhausted, she stopped at her locker and tossed her bag to the bottom. She couldn't even be bothered to hang it up properly. After fishing out the books she needed for first period and tucking her phone into the waistband of her uniform skirt, Catra took a moment to give herself a quick appraisal in the mirror mounted on her locker door. There was an empty space just above the top right corner of the mirror where a photo used to sit. In it, she and Adora stood close, wrapped in each other's arms after last year's win at nationals, with their tongues sticking out at the camera from between their grinning lips. It had been an amazing moment, one Catra hoped to remember for the rest of her life.

She tore the photo down the day Adora chose Vocal Rebellion over her. As far as she knew, it was still buried at the bottom of her locker underneath her bag and the chaos of loose notes she had no intention of ever looking at again.

Still, she had grown so accustomed to seeing Adora's face when she looked into the mirror that it took her a moment to realize the Adora she could see hovering over her shoulder now wasn't a photo, but a reflection. In fact, it wasn't until Adora smiled back at her that Catra's sleep-deprived brain understood what was happening, and she whirled around with a gasp.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

Adora's smile faltered. Her eyes dropped downward and Catra followed their trajectory to find two cups of iced coffee clutched in Adora's hands.