Chapter Text
Anna sighs at the scrap of paper taped inside her locker. A table of subject credits and grades with red ink scrawled across the bottom: “Cross this line to graduate!” Already she feels the desert’s mirage in the distance slipping further away as she crawls nearer. There’s an empty box for this term; Math 4. This one counts, at least.
The bell rings. Anna seats herself next to Belle - barely rousing her from a nap. Half the tables are still empty when Mr Stevenson hands out test grades. A couple of disappointed sighs. A head thuds on a desk. Snarky comments from Stevenson - f*cking wretched, useless, McDonalds is hiring.
Belle receives a scathing - your mom should’ve aborted, which doesn’t even stir her.
Anna’s grades land on her desk without a single remark.
An A-
Belle cranes her head over, eyes wide open at Anna’s scores. The girl gawks at the letter. It’s real. Her name’s on the top corner. Those little stolen moments mugging on the kitchen table while waiting for fic updates. In the cafe on her feet when the traffic’s slow. While babysitting. It finally paid off. She scribbles down the A- on her tabulated journey towards leaving this hellhole. Merely a little peak amongst the other Ds and Cs.
“So I guess this Elsa chick’s pretty good at maths huh?” Belle quips, “What else is she good at teaching?”
“Oh my god, is it that hard to believe I did this by myself?” Anna complains, filing away her results, “I-I don’t even think she has time for me. She’s like, super busy with her life and sh*t.”
“Too busy to sleep with you?”
Anna slaps a file on Belle’s head, “Perv! Is that all you ever think about?”
“You can't expect me not to ask - Have you two even kissed?”
The question pierces through Anna’s head. Blood rushes behind her cheeks. Followed by her lips. Oh, Elsa’s soft lips. Merely a breath away from hers at the party. Pried wide open as they sang together in her car. Pursed in anticipation at every word she said. Her chest swells at the thought of them pressing back against hers. They’d probably feel warm. And inviting. Anna imagines those gorgeous blue eyes closed as she lets her feelings take-
“Who’s the f*cking perv now?” Belle sneers, pinching Anna’s flushed cheeks.
“Stop it!” Anna swats away her hand. The realisation dawns upon her that they’ve never even touched. Or held hands. The thought puts an ache beneath her flesh. Not the kind that burns after a day of scrubbing tables. The kind of ache that makes her want more.
“Whatever, you still owe me,” Belle snigg*rs.
Stevenson cuts them off, “Alright f*ck stains, let’s go over the question none of you got right. Except Anna.”
And when the inevitable jeers of “Nerd!” wash across the classroom, Anna struggles to suppress her smile. One that sticks with her throughout the rest of class despite Stevenson’s droning explanations and incessant swearing. A smile that represents hope for a life beyond this bottom-feeding existence. Maybe - just maybe if she works hard enough, she’d finally measure up to someone like Elsa. Or achieve a standing close enough win her acceptance. Perhaps even…college?
She spends the rest of class with a smile plastered on her face, correcting her test mistakes and trying her best to follow the lesson. That smile vanishes when the bell rings. When Mal’s disgusting voice seeps into her ear from behind, every heady-good feeling within her incinerates in a flash.
“Maybe if I ate dyke puss* as good as you I’d get a A- as well.”
With a swipe of her hand, Mal upsets the file on Anna’s desk. She bolts upright.
“What the f*ck did you say?” Anna shrieks, shoving Mal’s shoulder.
“You heard me, f*ckin’ queer,” Mal scoffs, flipping the middle finger as she walks off.
“Anna, don’t-” Belle cuts in.
Oblivious to Belle’s insistence, Anna’s vision narrows on that crop of black hair heading to the hallway. Bristling irritation bursts through her skin as she catches up - before she gives an almighty shove in Mal’s back. Sending her falling face-first into the corridor.
“Bitch!” Mal seethes, leaping to her feet.
And as Anna throws that first punch into her face - she feels the hope she’d been soaking herself in for the last hour.
Fly from her hands.
“Stop! Stop!” Belle screams, drowned by jeers “Fight! Fight! Fight!”. Burning, throbbing pain grates Anna’s fists as she unloads them on Mal’s face. The girl drags her to the ground. Fingers and limbs tangle in hair and clothes. An elbow catches Mal in the teeth. Blood splotches on the concrete floor. Phones appear and videos start recording. Belle’s frantic efforts to separate them are swept away by the raucous crowd. Until a pair of immensely strong hands wrench Anna away from the broken, bloodied hom*ophobe beneath her.
“Enough!” Ryder yells, thick forearm holding his sister away. Another brusque dude yanks Mal upright - before stomping towards Ryder with clenched fists.
Click.
At the glint of a switchblade extended beneath Ryder’s palm, Anna finally lets go.
“Try me and find out, Pendejo,” Ryder seethes. Mal’s boyfriend relents. Boots clomp down the hallway and that blade vanishes from his hands. And so does the crowd of onlookers - earlier so virulent in their jeering. When the guards slap handcuffs around her throbbing wrists, Anna realises she could’ve made the biggest mistake of her life right there and then.
But the tears refuse to come.
Anna’s heart pounds in her throat when she watches Ryder get led out of the Superintendent’s office. He glares daggers at her dishevelled, shaking sister as guards remove his cuffs.
“I got day suspension,” Ryder snarls, “you’re not getting off so easily.”
“Anna Miller!” A voice booms from within, “Get your f*cking ginger ass in here!”
The smell of cardboard boxes and cigarettes hits Anna as she comes face to face with Mr Jackson. A behemoth of a Principal, Disciplinarian and Superintendent rolled into one man. Marine Corps tattoos litter his forearms, sleeves rolled up his mountainous biceps. She shifts away from his imposing presence towards a chair, before he shouts at her.
“I didn’t say you could sit.”
“Oh, yea - that’s right, sorry sir,” Anna looks down at her trembling reflection in his black shoes, polished to a mirror finish.
Jackson scowls, “This isn’t the first time you’ve been caught fighting. What the f*ck is wrong with you?”
Anna bites her lip. Heat burns behind her eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t you f*cking cry.
“Is it because you’re a redhead? Bad temper? Feel the need to prove something to someone?”
“No sir.”
His forearms flex as he crosses them across his bulging collared shirt. In that minute of silence festering under his burning stare - Anna's adrenaline-laced nerves calm down long enough for her to consider the reasons why she lashed out at Mal. Perhaps a subconscious protectiveness of Elsa. Or she’s sick of being pushed around by a raging hom*ophobe. Maybe she’s just sick of Mal’s sh*t. None of the reasons could prepare her for what’s coming next.
“I’ve had it up to my ass with you monkeys,” Jackson spits, “a few scuffles over basketball or horseplaying around in PE - sure. But you hurt her.”
Anna looks away. Only for Jackson to yell at her.
“Look at me! There’s a girl. A human being in the nurse’s office getting stitches because of you.”
“She deserved it,” Anna growls.
A fist pounds the table, “It is not your place to decide!”
She shakes her head, “Fine.”
“Your mother’s a lovely woman, so I’m going to give you a choice,” Jackson offers, “Suspension over winter term or a month of detention.”
The offer hits Anna in the gut and completely shatters her spirit. Left trapped between the sickening consequences of poverty once again. Food or rent. Warmth or water. Grades or money. Dignity or consequence.
“B-but, I-I don’t have enough to…graduate,” Anna’s throat locks up, “And the detention? Don’t you know we’re poor as sh*t and I need a job to stay alive?”
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before nearly maiming another student.”
White-hot injustice sears Anna from the inside out. Her mouth opens to protest, but she knows it’s useless. Torn between the choices and the futility of her situation, Anna’s fists begin to shake. She grits her teeth and starts for the door.
“I’m not done with you yet, you prick-”
Blood boils beneath her skin. Anna screams her head off, “I’ll take the f*cking detention or whatever, gawd!”
“Get out, get the f*ck out of my sight! You’re suspended today, you and your f*cking brother-”
She slams Jackson’s door so hard that the frame cracks on impact. Her eyes fracture with tears as she stomps out the building. And when she reaches the carpark, the realisation stomps her flat. What little hope she’d clung onto had vanished in the last hour like that mirage she’d been crawling towards. A typhoon of angst swirls around her head. In a single hour, she’d managed to dig herself deeper into a ruthole she’d fought so hard to get out of. Anna leans against a graffiti-lined pillar and buries her eyes into the heel of her palm. Alarmed at that wretched sobbing noise sputtering from her throat. And if that’s not enough - her phone lights up with a notification.
Elsa: Hey - I’ve some time before track - is it alright if I drop by Clemson for a minute? I’ve something for you to make up for last week.
Elsa: And I’d really like to see you again, even if it’s just for awhile.
She doesn’t reply her. But Elsa’s Lexus shows up anyway. The silver SUV places another throbbing ache behind Anna’s eyes. And when she rushes down the steps towards that familiar source of comfort and joy, Anna can’t contain the tears spilling down her cheek. Frigid air gnaws into her salty-wet skin. Elsa leaps from the driver’s seat. A mix of bewilderment and concern on her face. At once, Anna hurls her sobbing self into Elsa’s outstretched arms. Before she lets out a wail that echoes across the carpark.
“Oh my god,” Elsa pulls Anna close to herself, clutching at the tremoring in Anna’s chest, “what happened?”
“Can we, can we please,” Anna sputters, soaking in the comfort of Elsa’s embrace which doesn’t even come close to soothing her angst, “Can we please get out of here? Please?”
“Yes, yes - anything-”
Arms around Anna’s shoulders - Elsa helps her into the car. She floors the gas. Not stopping until they’re miles from school in an empty McDonalds parking lot.
And Anna’s still sobbing.
“Look,” Elsa whispers, hands on the steering - unable to even look at that shaking mess beside her, “you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I’m just going to be right here.”
Strength deserts Anna as she bites down on her nails. Pondering how to explain everything to this girl. This woman she’d so quickly enamoured herself with. A litany of fears emerge in Anna’s head. Is she going to keep her distance if she thinks you’re deranged? Is it all going to appear stupid to her? Perhaps she’d think you’re hot-tempered and prone to violence?
Minutes pass before Anna decides against hiding anything from Elsa. Not with the flaring bruises on her cheekbones anyway. Better to rip off the band-aid and get it over with.
“It’s-it’s f*cking stupid,” Anna heaves in stuttery breaths, “I got into a fight at school.”
Elsa’s eyes widen.
“A fight?” Elsa asks, “What, like with another person? With weapons?”
Anna holds her hands out. Bruised and bloodied knuckles scrawled dark crimson with Mal’s dried blood.
Elsa widens her eyes at the ugly, dull patchwork of pain, “Oh my god.” Her posture shifts.
“You probably think I’m crazy,” Anna whispers, wiping her eyes and looking away.
“No, no, I don’t,” Elsa’s voice rises, steeped in concern for this broken girl beside her, “I mean, obviously that depends on what you were fighting over. A pair of discounted jeans then yea maybe you’d be crazy”
Anna lets out an ugly laugh, mixed with the sorrow of her tears. She blows her nose.
“It’s this f*cking bitch,” Anna groans, “I think she has something against gay people or just me in general because she keeps hurling all these hom*ophobic insults. And I just snapped today.”
Elsa’s eyes perk up.
“Anna, a-are you, um-”
Anna nods. She looks away, truth hidden behind the silence on her lips.
“So you beat the sh*t out of her? Because she called you a queer or something?”
“She had it a long time coming.”
“Oh god, Anna.”
Anna looks over at Elsa, gentle blue eyes emanating concern. A weak smile returns to her face.
“There’s still time to get off the crazy train that is Anna Miller,” Anna whispers.
“No,” Elsa’s answer cuts in, “I-I know what it’s like to be different. You stood up for yourself and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Anna snivels, “Thank you.”
“Obviously if you start beating the sh*t out of me I might have to reconsider being friends with you.”
A bright-sounding laugh breaks out in the confines of Elsa’s car. This time, the sorrow departs Anna’s voice. But a sliver of trepidation lingers behind one of Elsa’s words.
Friends.
“Elsa,” Anna clears her throat and turns to her, “I’m sorry for asking, but you asked me. So I’m asking you back. Just so we’re on the same page. Are you, um, y’know-”
“Yes,” Elsa answers, looking dead ahead.
The last cloud of worry departs Anna’s head. Even as she recounts to Elsa her grades, the dilemma of her detention and everything else in between. Her hopes and fears prick Elsa’s heart like it’s her own. But she listens in silence, driving the girl back to her mossy home and that tiled roof where they first met from a distance.
“I’m sorry for unloading all this garbage on you, I know you’ve problems of your own and none of this is your business-”
“No, it is,” Elsa cuts her off for the first time, before her gentle eyes fall on the girl again, “I-I promised myself I’d get to know you. The good or the bad - and I guess it starts here.”
Anna mouths back thank you. Pursing her lips and looking straight at Elsa. Her eyes dip to Elsa’s slender fingers. Perched on the gear knob. An ache in Anna’s chest tugs at her to reach out and touch that hand, if only just to feel the warmth and hope it whisks her from everything she’s gone through today. But Elsa’s hand shifts away first, reaching into a bag.
“You told me you spent your nights on the roof reading,” Elsa whispers, pulling out a novel, “I think you’ll have plenty of time to read this during detention-”
“Oh, what’s this for?” Anna runs her fingers over the pristine paperback. Empress of a Thousand Skies. “Is this to make up for last week?”
“Yes,” Elsa whispers, “and also you were being mysterious about what you were reading, so I had no idea-”
“It’s lovely,” Anna replies, before she shakes her head, “Believe me, I’d love to say I was busy enough not to have time to read this, but I guess - I’ll be done with this by the end of detention.”
“Take your time, this isn’t a book report.”
Anna smiles back at Elsa. The realisation dawns on her that everything’s going to fall apart the moment she steps out the car. Away from the security of Elsa’s presence. To be confronted by Gerda about how they sure as hell won’t be able to make next month’s rent with all her missing shifts. The air grows thick with heaviness as Anna’s fingers linger on the door handle. It feels heavy. An immense weight to lift in her current state. The door-open indicator beeps. But she still can’t find enough presence of mind to leave this little bubble protecting her.
“I’m, I’m not,” Anna’s hand wraps around the door handle, “I swear I’m not delaying this on purpose. I just-”
“It’s ok,” Elsa reassures. She hesitates. Before those tear-caked freckles spur her to reach across and pull Anna into the deepest hug she can give. For a moment, Anna savours the warmth and comfort of Elsa’s body pressing back against her. She soaks in the tenderness. The steady thump of her heartbeat. That cherry vanilla scent which sets her senses alight. Her eyes flutter shut as she inhales a breath of longing into Elsa’s hair, “Thank you - I really, really needed this, after everything today.”
And when Elsa finally lets go, Anna realises it’s given her the courage to confront whatever’s waiting for her on the other side of that door.
Ryder’s bike is already locked to the fence. Bad sign. It takes all of Anna’s strength not to fall apart when she sees Gerda with her arms folded in the sparse, dusty living room. Over the years, she’d gotten familiar with the multitude of emotions in her mother’s eyes: weariness, sorrow, annoyance and anger. This time, she sees one that puts her on the verge of breaking down.
Disappointment.
It takes a few tries, before Anna croaks, “I’m sorry.” Barely a whisper as another police siren wails in the distance.
Gerda marches up to Anna with narrowed eyes and backs her against the door. She winces when her mother yanks her chin aside. A fresh bruise lies exposed. Still raw and stinging.
“Look at you,” Gerda seethes, her voice cracking, “Your brother told me everything. What the hell were you thinking?”
Anna looks down at the threadbare flooring. Failing to prevent a tear from adding to its stains.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats.
The sigh escaping her mother puts another wound in her heart. One that starts to heal the moment Gerda sinks her arms around her. Like she was five again.
“You idiot,” Gerda squeezes her tight, “you’re not a kid anymore - I can’t look after you all the time.”
“I don’t, I can’t” Anna stutters, soaking in the smell of coffee and bacon from her mother’s diner job, “I’m sorry I let you down.”
“You didn’t,” Gerda reassures, before inspecting the welts on her hands, “I just don’t want to see my baby get hurt.”
The memory of that stupid fight comes flooding back. And that gentle, concerned look on Gerda’s face reminds Anna: You don’t deserve a mother like her.
Anna swallows the harrowing prospect of what’s coming next, “We’re going to have problems.”
“What problems?”
“I got a month of detention, which means I’ll drop all my shifts-”
“What!” Gerda shrieks. The sums add up in her head like a calculator. An innate habit from a single mother who scrimped and saved for her kids.
“Four hundred dollars, Christ,” Gerda staggers backwards and slumps into a chair, “we’re in deep, deep sh*t this time.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll try to figure something out. I don’t know - on the weekends or something,” Anna pleads.
“You know it’s going to take more than that,” Gerda insists, “I’d be surprised if they even let you back to work after so long-”
“They will!” Anna argues, voice breaking, “Or I’ll think of something, I don’t want this to be a burden-”
At the sight of Gerda burying her head in her palms, Anna drops to her knees by her side.
“Mom, please, don’t stress about this. Let me fix this-”
“Like hell you are, what’re you going to do, be a stripper like me?” Gerda scoffs.
“Believe me, if I could - I would.”
Ryder yells from his room, “She’s not gonna fetch much, better stick to waitressing!”
“Just, please tell me,” Gerda’s wrinkly lips curl into a smirk, “When you threw down with her, how well did you do?”
It takes a moment for the question to make sense in Anna’s head, “I-I, um, I don’t know? Good I guess? I mean I wasn’t really thinking straight-”
Ryder’s boots clomp through the house. Already dressed in work overalls.
“Are you kidding?” Ryder sneers at them on the way out, “You should’ve seen the other girl! Anna rearranged her face-”
And Gerda lets out a lighthearted giggle, before plastering Anna’s bruised face between her hands, “Oh, when I saw your red hair for the first time, I knew I gave birth to a devil!”
“Weren’t you the one who taught us to stand up for ourselves in this world?” Anna chirps.
“Yes, yes,” Gerda rises, hands clasped over Anna’s. She looks her daughter straight in the eye. Saying the only thing she knows can fix everything she’s gone through today.
“Anna, I’m still pissed at what you did, but goddamn - am I proud of you.”
