Chapter Text
All schools are divided into strata. In a sense, it is even normal that students clump together, choosing their own kind, with a pleasant and acceptable way of thinking. It is abnormal when this is not, because it implies absolute chaos, into which the social life of schoolchildren turns into: each together and separately.
As it is written in a textbook from the library, which, nevertheless, itself was intended for students whose knowledge is at a level higher than in school, social strata help a person to grow, unconsciously forming moral and moral values in his mind. The framework that forms such social groups helps in the future to find friends, colleagues, start a family and, in general, build relationships in society.
Katara read this book before she even started high school. Then she heard on TV, which her father watched, that the formation of social groups in North Africa is very different from what they knew. Katara was more than curious to drop the dolls she was playing with on the carpet and go to the library, where she took all the famous sociology books she could take with her. She read these books one after another, swallowing them faster than Sokka meat. The girl lay under the covers with a flashlight in the middle of the night, not paying any attention to the disgruntled exclamations of her brother, who complained about the light.
Now Katara has confidently denied the importance of social groups in society. So it was supposed to. It was right that way. The girl with the best grades in school, a bright activist, a beauty and the president of the debate club, she simply could not believe that the standards built by representatives of the patriarchy for centuries were necessary. Unless only in order to form standards in immature girlish minds that they had to follow.
However, Katara could not deny the fact that at the school where she studied, division into strata was still present. Walking along the colorful fenced yard, banging her heels on the masonry, the girl counted all the groups into which her own school was divided. Of course, this was not a teenage comedy like Disney's High School Musical, the groups were more mobile, vast, and perhaps less hackneyed. At Alto’s school, there were no hippies, no actors, no athletes running around the school building in silly uniforms and not letting the ball out of their hands. However, there were strata, and, probably, if it were not for the scientific project that Katara took over a couple of weeks ago, she most likely would not even think about it.
Her brother, for example, belonged to that group of popular guys that no one could say about why they are popular. Sokka was a joker, a prankster who drove around the school grounds in his old skateboard, carefully painted in various colors in their garage, while Katara, lying in a hammock, re-read Wuthering Heights for the tenth time. Alto always wore a large sweatshirt or jersey to indicate his school basketball team, and his half-shaved head often wore an old hipster beanie. The cherry on top of Sokka Alto's personality cake was his father's old pickup truck that broke down more often than Sokka mentioned his boomerang in conversation.
Katara's brother was something of a local clown: he disrupted lessons, ran in the middle of lectures, brought wild animals into the building and painted the walls of the school with graffiti. Probably, no one would want to know him, but now, when he was standing in the parking lot, with his back imposingly leaning against the hood of a black demon that did not stop smelling of gasoline, every student passing by paid attention to him. And some even approached, wanting to know what the next draw would be and whether they should bring a gas mask if this time it was a skunk.
Sokka's two best friends also belonged to the popular category, but in two completely different types. Aang was a stupid boy with an incredible desire to have fun all his free time. His grades were far from perfect, but he was a prominent activist of the school, which, nevertheless, participated in every new idea of Katara's brother.
Was he as popular as Sokka? Probably not. Why? Katara couldn't say for sure. Aang was as reckless and impudent as her brother. What saved him from endless shaking hands and girlish giggles? Probably the "good guy" image. Katara, as a feminist and just a person with the slightest bit of common sense, denied such a concept as a "bad guy", but she simply could not find another explanation for all this. Aang was sweet and sweet like candy cane. He respected girls, avoided disputes and disagreements, and when things went too far, crossing the boundaries of what was permitted, he knew how to stop, which, unfortunately, Sokka always lacked. Perhaps that is why Aang now so calmly went inside the school, chatting freely with Jet, who did not put out his cigarette even when he was in the building.
At the corner of the railing, away from prying eyes, Zuko stood. This guy was a specific character, and to be honest, Katara won't even remember exactly how they became friends. It seems that Rei helped Sokka when he didn't know how to approach Toph. Be that as it may, Zuko was the voice of reason that Sokka and Aang lacked when Katara was not around. Zuko stopped the guys when their ideas went too far and threatened with exclusion, and in those moments when he could not bring a grain of common sense into the empty heads of his friends, he took part in them. In fact, Rei was the most serious of the three friends, but why was he so popular at school then? The bad guy image. Zuko was taciturn, sarcastic, mildly depressed and very easily pissed off, which somehow seemed attractive to most girls in school.
Was Katara herself popular at school? Perhaps yes. Now, when she passed through the fired doors, which was held by an older guy whom she did not even know, she walked along the crowded corridor, and each student fixed her eyes on her. The teenagers hungrily devoured Alto’s figurine as it passed, leaving behind the sweet scent of lily. The hem of her long white skirt flew right behind her, resembling swan feathers at that moment, and graceful sandals gently knocked in time with the clock. Hair flew in the breeze like ribbons in a garden tied to cherry branches, and a blue blouse bared a perfectly even tan on the back. Katara walked with her hands clasped around her textbooks, even though the students around her quietly admired her, and gently swayed her hips from side to side, listening to the melody in her own head.
Katara was one of those girls that everyone wants to be. She was beautiful, intelligent, cunning, purposeful, but at the same time kind, capable of compassion, caring. If there were standards in this world that needed to be met, Katara was at the top of everyone. It was impossible to hate her, because even if someone could do it, she would only smile warmly in return and try to help with homework.
However, this was only the first half of the popular kids who lived in West Island High. There was also a second one. If the first half was loved by the whole school, people turned to them for advice and tried to be like them, then the second half was simply frightening. These guys earned their respect, gnawing it with their teeth, taking away from the dead bodies of the former golden boys. Among them were the blind girl Toph Beifong, Katara's best friend and Sokka's girlfriend (how did this happen? The story is too long for Katara to ever want to remember it), Jet with an eternal cigarette in her mouth, and Azula, Zuko's sister, always accompanied by her friends Mai and Ty Lee.
In all of them there was something frightening precisely because they considered not only the school, but the whole world, - a battlefield where you have to fight for a place in the sun. Each of them fought for different things: Toph was ready to kill for Sokka, Jet spared no effort for his friends. What was Azula fighting for in this world? Katara didn’t know, but every time this cold-blooded bitch walked past her, glancing her honey eyes at her aquamarine ones, Alto felt her own blood run cold in her veins.
Katara's stream of thought was interrupted by Aang's joyful voice. The boy came up from one side, Jet, chewing on the butt of a new kind of especially stinking cigarettes - from the other. Aang looked more cheerful than usual, and this involuntarily made Alto herself smile.
“Good morning, Lady Katara!” Aang's neck was hung with large headphones, so familiar that sometimes it seemed to Katara that they were attached to the guy's body. From there a new melody of Bruno Mars was heard, cheerful and groovy. Katara, surprisingly, liked the song, which is why she reluctantly pulled away from Gio, going to her locker and thinking to herself that in the evening she should ask a friend to send this song or include it in their shared playlist.
“You are in a good mood today.” Katara tilted her head slightly to the side, looking at her friend from under the shadow of her small braids, to which Aang smiled even wider, throwing the backpack behind his back a little higher, and, - Katara could swear, - she heard something ringing inside. The girl noted to herself that for chemistry it is worth taking protective clothing and staying away from a friend.
“Today is Mr. Linsu's lectures! He promised to tell about the Mayan pyramids!”
There was a disdainful snort to Katara's left. The girl looked up at the mirror hanging on the door of her locker, which she decorated with photographs with friends and ribbons, and Jet's face was reflected there. This guy's face was always burning with displeasure: his eyebrows were always frowned, his eyes were tired, and his nose wrinkled as often as if this guy had an endless allergy to people. To be honest, Katara didn't like this guy at all. Havn was rude, selfish and, apart from cigarettes, smelled of snobbery from a mile away, which he did not even try to hide.
Alto only communicated with him because of Aang, who, for some unknown reason, thought they were friends. Probably, it was so, Katara herself more than once observed how Jet is serious about everything that concerns his friends. Once, it seems, Havn even got into a fight with an idiot who decided to laugh at the traditional costume of the people to which Aang belonged. Perhaps this is the only reason why Katara endured his stinking cigarettes and sexist comments towards every girl that passed by: only because she knew this guy would give his life for Aang Gio and their whole bunch.
But today Katara was full of indignation: the morning run passed in the rain, the shower had to be shortened, since Sokka could not put his stupid hair for half an hour, which Toph would somehow ruffle literally five minutes later, and her morning toast was burnt. Sokka's car smelled especially strongly of gasoline today, and Beifong insisted that she wanted to ride in the front seat next to her boyfriend, which forced Katara to sit in the back where she was even more nauseous. If the morning burnt breakfast does not come out of her in the women's toilet before the big break, it will be a big luck. Therefore, now, looking into a small mirror in a blue frame, seeing there the reflected dark face of Jet that was always unhappy with something, Katara was angry. She turned to face the guy, crossed her arms over her chest and, frowning her eyebrows, said angrily:
“Something wrong, Jet?”
“I just hated these lectures all last year.” Havn did not even raise an eyebrow at Alto's displeased tone. He just tiredly turned his gaze to the corridor, carefully studying the students passing by, nevertheless, giving them all the same tired expression on his face.
“And what lectures did you like?” Katara did not calm down. If this guy dares to snort at Aang, then he is not as good a friend as he seemed.
“I liked the lectures of Mr. Touray.” The guy took out a cigarette from his mouth and nodded to the girls passing by, who began to giggle, quickening their pace.
Katara was taken aback for a second. Mr. Touray was a botanist who taught their entire stream of biology, which Alto was at least in love with. The brown-haired woman slightly tilted her head to the side, not even knowing what to say to this. Mister Touray was her personal idol, at a lecture to which she almost ran. Looking at Jet now, Katara could not imagine that this guy was interested in at least one of the school subjects. And now to know that he loved what she loved seemed a little wild.
Katara did not know what to say, but Aang came to the rescue in time: he also snorted contemptuously, rolling his eyes, and said wearily:
“Now he will again talk about underwater currents. And why did you just start this, Kat?!” The question was, of course, rhetorical, but Alto still decided not to ignore it.
“Underwater currents?”
“It's called mineral water, you idiot!” Jet laughed muffledly, making a couple of steps towards Aang, throwing his hand over his neck and starting to mercilessly ruffle his black hair.
Aang somehow managed to get out of Havn's grip. He adjusted his hair with displeasure, making it, nevertheless, in the same mess as it was before. While Gio was adjusting his hair in front of the mirror, Katara caught the blue tattoo on the boy's forehead out of the corner of her eye and remembered how teachers chased him around the school, threatening to expel him for such a thing. A smile involuntarily appeared on her face as Alto remembered how Gio had been walking with a red forehead for the entire first week. And then his skin began to crawl, from which the whole team of friends refused to even sit next to him: it looked painfully creepy. Katara involuntarily remembered holding her friend's hand when he went to get the exact same tattoos, but already on his arms, and at that moment she felt how much she missed him.
Alto gently pushed her friend on the shoulder, as if to say "I'm sorry," to which Aang only frowned more.
“Two grass freaks!”
Katara laughed in response: Gio was not strong in insults. Jet, on the other hand, leaned his elbow on the nearest locker, completely ignoring the dissatisfaction of his friend, which, as Havn himself believed, he deserved, and said:
“Speaking of two freaks. Kat, what are you doing Saturday night?”
A sly grin played on the guy's face, which, to be honest, really suited him very much. He honored the girl with a glance only for a couple of seconds, after which he returned his gaze to the school corridor, sticking a cigarette in his teeth and starting to chew it disgustingly.
The proposal was so impudent that even for the first five seconds Katara could not understand its meaning, and Aang's eyes turned into two large saucers. When Alto realized what Jet was getting at, she didn't even know how to refuse him so that he would not be offended. And just at that moment, a neat hand with indecently long nails fell on her shoulder:
“Sorry, handsome, she already promised a date to me.”
Katara knew those nails. It was they who did not stop beating the rhythm right behind Alto's back in foreign literature lessons. It was these black nails with a blood-red stripe that especially bloodthirsty cut the lifeless body of a frog in a biology class. And in chemistry lessons, these nails were ringing in the walls of the room when they came into contact with the glass surface of the cones.
These were Azula Ling Hu's nails.
It took Katara a couple of seconds before she dared to turn her head to where the sound of such an insolent voice was coming from, but more importantly, where the heat was coming from that completely engulfed Alto's small figure. The brown-haired woman first looked at Aang, whose eyes were even wider than before. He stared blankly at Katara; and she, oddly enough, accommodated the fact that she also raised her eyebrows in confusion, shrugged her shoulders, or somehow show that she herself did not understand what happened to the local bitch Ling Hu, just nodded. Katara nodded to Aang, confirming the nonsense that Azula found it funny to weave right in front of Katara's closest friends, and then, looking ashamedly at Jet, who would not dare to argue with Azula, nodded to him too.
It was only after Alto confessed to two of her friends that Ling Hu was telling the truth, which, however, had nothing to do with reality, that Katara dared to look up at her new girlfriend. In any case, she thought so. Azula was calm and seemed even slightly happy. Now her smile was not just sly, like that of a little girl who won in a board game, but also happy, like all normal people. Katara was pretty sure she had never seen something like this on Ling Hu's face. Azula turned her gaze to Alto, he burned with tenderness and warmth so naturally, so rightly that Katara herself thought for a second, suddenly she really simply forgot that she once agreed to a date with Ling Hu. Be that as it may, if she did it inadvertently, then Katara would never have thought that something like that for Azula had any meaning.
“Come on, Kat, we have to go.” Ling Hu nodded to her two friends for as long as five minutes of the girl, after which she took Katara's tender palm with her warm hand and dragged her into the depths of the crowded corridor.
For a while, Alto heard Sokka and Toph approach the puzzled Aang and Jet. Her brother asked what she, the sweet princess of the school, was doing next to the devil incarnate, and Aang, rubbing the back of his head in confusion, said:
“It seems they are dating...”
To be honest, even Katara herself did not turn out to be like that, but she could not object to anything, or she simply did not dare. All the girl had to do was follow Azula, who confidently pulled her to the flight of stairs, swaying to the beat her bony hips in strict trousers of some unknown melody. Katara noted to herself that today Azula's eternal ponytail has turned into a strict bun with a large golden comb in it, and instead of pink gloss, bright red lipstick flaunted on her lips, like freshly squeezed pomegranate juice.
Ling Hu confidently walked forward, not paying any attention to the curious looks around, but Katara paid attention to them. Azula was rarely looked at openly: she was too frightening. They looked at Azula from under their locks, carefully, covertly, throwing quick glances and immediately taking them aside. When she passed by, the students held their breath, and only after she left did quiet whispers begin. They did not dare to point a finger or nod at Azula, mainly because there was no need to pay special attention to her: as soon as she entered the room, all eyes immediately turned to her.
But today, now, everything was different. Today Ling Hu's hand was held by Katara, and therefore her gaze dared to leave the ground. The students began to whisper, when Azula had not yet reached them, and when the girls were equal with the students, they did not stop exchanging assumptions about which particular fly had bitten the main bitch of the school today. Today everyone was bold, today everyone was burning with curiosity, and therefore safety could be sacrificed.
On any other day, Azula would have put gossips in their place long ago, but now she so quickly wanted to hide in at least some secluded corner that she either did not pay attention to the gossips, or simply ignored any of their manifestations. Although Alto did not get away from the fact that the red corners of Ling Hu's lips slightly lifted when she heard the colorful speculations of the youngest students of West Island High.
“Why are you smiling?” Katara didn’t know where to start interrogating her crazy classmate, so she chose the question that seemed the safest of all. Whatever answer she gets now, it certainly won't be the worst.
“Glad to see you, My Sugarcandy, that's all.” Azula threw a glance at Alto over her shoulder, but, apparently, since they left Katara's friends, she completely stopped trying, telling noodles to Alto's ears, and therefore the girl's honey eyes were more mocking than really loving.
“No seriously.”
Azula sharply turned into the hall where there was a staircase, but instead of going up to the second floor, where both of them were now supposed to have a foreign literature lesson, the girl led Katara under the stairs. It was dark and noisy, as if every word spoken in the school building flew right here. On the other hand, none of them could be seen or heard by other students here.
Azula crossed her arms over her chest, and her face again assumed a condescending expression, as if everything that was happening around was obvious to the baby. She gave Alto an appraising look before resuming the dialogue, which made Katara cringe with the feeling that right now she was taking an exam she was completely unprepared for.
“Isn't it funny?”
“What exactly?” Alto raised her eyebrows at Azula in dismay. The brown-haired woman was afraid that Ling Hu was talking about her: about her skirt or books on literature that she managed to grab with her. But Azula nodded toward the corridor from which they had walked here a couple of minutes ago.
“People,” Azula sighed wearily, as if this answer was as obvious as the fact that the Sun shines during the day and the Moon at night, “their assumptions, the glances reflecting the gears working so desperately in their heads, trying to understand, what's happening.”
This was not the same Azula that Alto had seen a couple of minutes ago in the corridor, but this was exactly the Azula that the whole West Island school was used to: cold, calculating, arrogant, like a maniac-psychopath, ready to kill for his mad ideas.
Azula began to slowly walk around Katara, her face was almost bored, as if the students of the school were not people, but simple ants that entertained her as long as she wanted, but if she just looked for a new toy, she would trample them, level them to the ground. She will give the memories their wretched and so short lives. And it was frightening.
“One has only to change one familiar detail, put something in place that they did not expect, and their heads literally explode.” Azula took one quick step towards Katara, now they were at a distance of half a centimeter from her face, and after pausing for a second, the brunette quietly whispered, exhaling directly into Katara's peach lips: “Boom... and there is no head.”
“What games do you play, Azula?!” Katara took one, then a second step back, recoiling in fright from the dangerously joyful Ling Hu, but Alto's voice was cruel and confident, like a sheet of metal. Katara may have been a little frightened by Azula's strange behavior, but that doesn't mean she won't be able to protect herself. Moreover, it was high time to finish this strange story.
Azula pulled away from Katara, sighing resentfully. She didn't seem to like at all that her games were refused to be played. One way or another, Ling Hu obeyed Katara: she, observing personal space, stepped aside and, leaning her back against the wall behind her, said:
“We need to be a couple. Fake, of course.”
“What?” The girl was taken aback, again almost jumping away from Ling Hu with her abnormal ideas. Katara suspected that Azula needed something from her, but not "this." Alto was sure that the play in the school hallway, the word "date" and a sweet smile were all just a joke, an excuse that helped to get the right attention, but not the real goal. “What makes you think that I...”
“Come on, Katara, it's obvious.”
Azula rolled her eyes, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and choosing one of a strange, red color. Katara furrowed her brows in disbelief that the girl was going to do this, but Ling Hu confidently stuck a cigarette in her teeth and set it on fire with the lighter she carried in another pocket. And what is the way they all smoke in the school building?!
Azula took a couple of thoughtful puffs, waiting for Alto's response, but she was so indignant at the girl's actions that she completely forgot about the ridiculous argument in which she did not even know why she was continuing to participate. Ling Hu mistook this for denial, which raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“You do not know that a lesbian?”
“What?! Of course I do!” Katara clenched her fists, frowning in displeasure. This girl has crossed all the boundaries that only exist in the world today. Why would Katara even discuss something as personal as her sexual orientation with someone like Azula Ling Hu?!
“Good, because your games with that white-haired tiny fish…” Azula gave Katara an appraising look. It was obvious that the girl wanted to say something stinging and unpleasant, but she stopped herself and, turning her lips into a thin strip, restraining herself, uncertainly said: “Were cute. That was cute.”
Katara was embarrassed, looking away from Azula. What happened last year between her and Yue still remained a mystery even to Alto herself. It ended earlier than she would like: Yue went to college, she was older than Katara and even older than Sokka. Katara had never shared her thoughts about their "friendship" with Yue Kala before. It was personal. Now, when Azula talked about it so simply, without even a bit of ordinary compassion, it seemed wild to Katara. Almost arrogant and certainly rude.
Azula took a couple of careful steps, closing the distance between them, and still maintaining the necessary decency. Ling Hu gave Katara a long look, which this time, however, did not try to make a tacit rating of the girl's pros and cons, but seemed to be waiting for permission to come closer. Katara was silent. A haze of mistrust, anger, perhaps even irritation reigned between them. Azula smelled of expensive perfume and vanilla cigarettes, the neckline of her red blouse was indecently deep, while all the rest of her clothes personified austerity and elegance. Katara next to her seemed like a little princess in her long white skirt, blouse with flowers and simple floral perfume. They were more different than similar. Why, then, are they both here now? Azula's whim, that's why.
“So what do you think? You agree?”
“No! I am not!” Katara blurted angrily. After all that Azula told her, Alto will not even look in her direction. She will never ever be a part of fake relationship, that is not clear why each of them needs.
“Come on! Is it that hard?” Azula took a last drag, then threw the cigarette butt on the ground and pressed it down with the toe of her shoe.
Katara glanced at Azula. A rich, spoiled, vicious bitch, accustomed to getting whatever she wants, and satisfying her every slightest desire at the snap of her fingers. Daddy's daughter with his gold credit card and a bunch of crazy girlfriends. She didn’t care about the people around her, from the cleaning lady who had to get rid of this smoked cigarette, and ending with Katara, the girl for whom the "white-haired tiny fish" meant something. Probably, Azula simply does not understand this. She didn't care about her own brother, why would she suddenly care about people like Katara, whom she doesn't even know?
Azula only disgusted Alto. Katara took one last look at Ling Hu, it was full of contempt and bile, after which she turned on her heels and was about to leave, when Azula's hot hand grabbed her cold wrist.
“Stop, Katara!” The brown-haired woman turned around, and for the first time in her life she saw honey eyes that shone painfully with grief. In one second, Azula's eyes filled with despair, and a shiver even went through Alto's skin, as if pain could be transmitted through touch. “I will do whatever...” The voice faltered, but Azula immediately pulled herself together. “I will do whatever you want.”
Katara was taken aback, not knowing how to react. Mother always taught that people need to be helped, no matter how bad they are. Azula was difficult, selfish, but now her eyes were really full of pain. Katara didn't know why Azula needed it, but Katara knew why she needed it.
“Okay, okay, just let me go!” Alto pulled her hand out of Ling Hu's grip, and took two steps back, returning exactly to the place where she stood before.
Katara just looked away from Azula for a second, rubbing the place that she so unceremoniously grabbed, but as soon as she lifted it back, that cold bitch stood in front of her again that a minute ago had extinguished the butt with her own expensive shoes. Ling Hu was a great actress, Alto knew that, but what exactly was the performance right now: her pain or her composure? Or maybe both. Most likely, Azula never felt anything, she was born already an insensitive viper. It would be sad if it weren't for the fact that Katara didn't care about Ling Hu and her problems.
“Well, what do you want?” Azula raised one eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Place in the team.”
Katara came up with this a long time ago. She dreamed of getting on the high school wrestling team ever since she moved to high school. Alto needed this in order to write one more item on the paper for admission. However, all these years there was one and only obstacle - Azula Ling Hu, the captain of the school team. She has refused to Qatar for several years. At every qualifier, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she tried. Now Azula needed help and she would not get it just like that.
“That’s it?” Azula almost snorted.
“For me and for Toph.”
“This blind dwarf?!”
Katara didn't say anything, just turned on her heels, about to leave, but Azula immediately stopped her.
“Stop! Okay! You won!”
Katara turned to Ling Hu, who immediately took out her phone and, almost without looking at its screen, wrote something. After a couple of seconds, she sent a message and showed it to Katara:
“Laurie, Suzy, you're not part of the team anymore. Collect your clothes I wanna see free lockers after big break"
“ That’s rough.” Quietly said Katara almost under her breath, immediately regretting what she had done.
Azula clicked indignantly. “I can get them back.”
“No, no, don't!”
“Well, you agree?”
Azula tucked her phone into the back pocket of her pants and held out her hand to Alto. Katara was taken aback for a second, doubting what she was going to do. What is she doing anyway? What will Sokka and friends say to that? What would her mother say to that... Should she agree to a relationship with Azula? Now Katara realized that it was too late to think about it, so she confidently held out her hand in response.
“Let’s do it!”