Chapter Text
When you’re 13, everything feels so far away. College, adulthood, driving. But you’re still stuck in the moment no matter how much you think of the future.
At 13, you’re stuck with the friends you made in kindergarten. Sure, you make new friends when your mom invites her friends’ kids over. But you tend to stick with the ones you know most.
Adora jumps on the trampoline in Catra’s backyard with a melting bomb pop in her hand. It drips down her hand and she wipes it onto her shirt. Catra laughs at a retelling of a story Adora tells to her about Kyle, Catra’s adopted brother. Catra and Kyle were both adopted.
Every popsicle stain on Adora’s orange camp shirt is a reminder of the slowly passing summer, how each day flows by like you’re sitting in the lazy river. The story of how she got her shirt brought up a feeling in her stomach that she couldn't explain.
Adora had to leave home for a week to go to sleepaway camp, and she got scared. What if the kids didn’t like her? What if they called her names? What if they were just awful?
On the bus ride there, Adora could barely hold a conversation with someone; she was shivering with anxiety. She played with the hem of her new shirt, fondly recalling the day Catra gave it to her to somewhat calm her anxiety.
She had run away from the rest of the kids the second she’d seen their faces. She sat on a rusty swing that looked like it hadn’t been touched for a decade. Adora looked down the muddy patch below where her feet would kick off the ground, the grass around it was all green and soft and nice, but that one spot in particular had been worn down from kids like her running away from their problems.
“Adora! Adora!” Adora’s eyes flung up to a panting Catra, she stood right underneath the overgrowth , the vines stopped a foot above where Catra was standing.
“I got you a shirt.” Catra pointed to the orange shirt she had on and then to the other one she had gripped in her hand.
“Hi.” Was all Adora could say. Before Catra could take the spare swing seat, she stopped and stood straight up, horror filling her eyes.
Catra made a sound like bile was rising in her throat, her face pulled into an ugly expression, her cheeks puffed out, presumably filling with vomit. Adora shook her head and frowned while she watched Catra swallow it again.
“Did you just swallow your own throw up?”
“No.” Catra raised her eyebrows, Adora wondered if the former was surprised that she had noticed. “That was air.”
Adora didn’t respond, they stared at each other for a few seconds before Catra gingerly stumbled into the spare seat.
Adora heard Catra take a sharp breath. “Why’d you run?” she asked it so kindly she wondered if it was even her best friend talking. It helped though, it eased Adora into talking.
Adora could only beat to look into Catra’s eyes for a second before she averted her eyes to a wildflower growing on the grass.
“I’m Scared,” She finally replied. She didn’t have to elaborate in the slightest. Catra knew what she meant the second Adora’s words registered in her head.
“Hey, there’s no reason to be afraid. If they’re mean, I'll punch them all to the ground and poke their eyes in.”
Adora sniffled a laugh. “Thanks Catra.”
Catra made her feel safe, even if it was in her twisted violent way, she knew her intent was alright. But the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about murder was a little weird.
Catra is not the touchy type, so when she put her hand comfortingly on Adora’s shoulder, her heart nearly exploded.
“And then I found him on the floor in a puddle of his own pee,” Adora finishes, finally taking a lick of her popsicle.
“He keeps peeing his pants.” Catra bends over laughing. Her ponytail whips forward and gently tickles Adora’s knees. Adora snorts when she feels Catra’s soft hair touch her, and it only makes Catra laugh harder, from where she’s curled up on the trampoline.
Adora can see past the present whenever she sneaks a glance at Catra. She can see a future of college, adulthood and driving, all with Catra. A future where she and Catra drive to college after a long weekend of adulting, like doing laundry and taxes together.
Most importantly, they would have new, grown up friends. They would make new friends and though they would still occasionally keep in touch with their friends from kindergarten, they’d be free of them, finally. They’d be out of their parents’ houses, free from play date set-ups by their loving but overbearing parents. They’d go out and make friends themselves at fancy parties and in college lectures.
Adora supposes there's something scary about that, too, past the parties and college and driving. That much freedom could be restricted too. Adora wouldn’t know how to deal with it. But she supposes that’s what Catra is for. They would go through it together no doubt.
Adora pushes the thoughts of the future aside. She doesn’t need to think about it right now, so she won’t. She’ll think about the Catra in front of her, who’s currently still dying of laughter.
Catra has to go soon, but Adora doesn’t mention it, because Catra doesn’t mention it. Catra never liked going home, Adora finds. She’s vague about it, never disclosing much of her home life. Adora knows two things though.
One, Catra kind of hates her mom. Adora knows enough to know that wasn’t really a good thing. She loves her moms, Light Hope and Mara. Adora has a great relationship with them. Catra, not so much with her mother. The one and only time Adora went to her house, Catra and her mother were arguing most of the time. Catra calls her The Witch, and to this day Adora still doesn't know what her actual name is.
The second, is that Catra’s mom is kind of a bully. This ties into the first point on Catra detesting her mother. Catra’s brother, Kyle, is, in Adora’s opinion, kind of a wuss. She supposes this makes him an easier target for The Witch, Catra’s mom. Catra told her about it, once. How The Witch picks on Kyle and Catra stands up for him, which, more often than not, leaves Catra with a new bruise, or “battle scar,” as she likes to call them.
Adora worries. She worries, but Catra brushes it off. She avoids these topics.
When you’re 13, the most you should be worrying about is what you got on your PE test or what is being served for lunch that day at school. Already, Catra worries about these, but also worries about her mom, her brother. Catra feels more grown up than Adora thinks she herself will ever be. Adora kind of admires her for it.
A ball hits Adora in the face. She’s caught off guard, and her legs mess up on the next bounce up on the trampoline, sending her sprawling, face hitting the trampoline mats on the rim. Her popsicle breaks in half.
“Oh shoot,” Catra says, pausing, her knees bent and arms raised to her chest cautiously. “Are you okay?”
Adora spins around, grabbing Catra’s ankles. Catra shrieks as Adora takes her down as well. “You jerk!” Adora yells, though with no real malice, laughter seeping into her voice.
“I’m sorry,” Catra yell-laughs back. “It’s not my fault you have shit reaction skills!”
Adora pushes Catra. “How was I supposed to know you were going to throw a damn ball at me?! I had no warning!”
Catra pushes Adora back. “I literally called your name, stupid!”
“You’re stupid!” Adora pushes Catra harder, causing her to fall over onto her back. For a second, Adora is concerned that she might have hurt the girl.
Catra looks up at Adora, dangerous glint in her eyes. “You’re on.”
Catra tackles Adora, and they bounce once, twice on the trampoline. Catra puts her in a loose headlock, and Adora struggles for a moment before flipping them, trampoline bouncing slightly under them once more.
Adora lands on top of Catra, straddling her. She stops breathing.
“Adora?” Catra asks. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Adora squeaks out, finally regaining some breath back.
Adora has no clue why she’s this flustered. They’ve been in this position hundreds of time before, so why is this time different? Why is this time making her heart race and her face flush, blood pounding in her ears.
Before they can do anything else though, a voice cuts through their little bubble. “Catra?”
Adora looks up. It’s Kyle. Kyle with his dirty blonde hair and hand-me-down T-shirt. He’s wearing a band T-shirt that Adora vividly remembers Catra wearing a few months ago.
Catra’s mood significantly dampens the moment she sees him, lips pulling into a frown. “Already?”
Kyle nods sadly. “Mom says it’s time to go.”
“I fucking hate her,” Catra mutters. Adora gives her a comforting look, but Catra’s eyes never come up to meet hers.
Catra slides out of the opening in the trampoline net, completely forgoing the stairs and dropping straight onto the wet grass.
“Do you really have to go?” Adora asks.
“Yeah,” Catra sighs. “Otherwise The Witch is going to be a real bitch about it.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow?”
“Y-yeah… tomorrow,” Catra agrees half heartedly. Her voice is different, she sounds shaky, afraid of something. Adora doesn’t want to pry.
Catra casts one last longing look at Adora. She looks like she wants to say something else, but ultimately decides against it. She blinks slowly, once, at Adora, then turns and heads home with Kyle.
Adora doesn’t see her again after that.