Two things had happened that day.
One, Nino was begging for everyone to do late-nights escapes from their houses to go clubbing. Two, Marinette was hot as hell.
It was a normal morning at school and Marinette was, for once, not late for class. She had woken up when her alarm clock fired off its first tune. She hadn't spilled the milk. Her homework was perfection. She had a good hair day and her pigtails were in place a lot faster than usual. Walking through the hall, she expected the day to be all sunshine and rainbows. Her strides were tinged with happy skips and her bag swung in time with her whistles. Luck was in her hands, she thought.
She caught sight of blond hair from the corner of her eye. She jumped and instinctively scrambled behind a pilar.
Adrien didn't notice her presence as he kept his attention on the book in his hand. He gracefully climbed up the stairs and smiled at a few students who bid him good morning. Still reading, he nudged their classroom door open and entered, letting the wood close behind him.
Marinette sighed before straightening up and adjusted her bag over her shoulder. Adrien, the son and only heir to a prestigious dancing academy owner, Gabriel Agreste. The academy itself was a high-class college for people who wanted to pursue a career in traditional dancing, waltz, tango, and ballet. Everyone knew that he excelled at all of them. Heck, he could even pull off the ballet classes and have the girls there running for their money and still look sexy. Everyone also knew that he was the nicest guy at school, and yet she couldn't find the willpower inside her to croak out a hello. It was ridiculous. He was her classmate for goodness sake. Sure, he was popular, smart, talented, hot, had a grin that could beat the Paris lights, muscular arms that could carry any woman's heart, and eyes that could burn your soul in the sweetest of ways, but he was still a normal student. That was way beyond their world and universe. But a student nonetheless.
She took a long beath through her nose and followed his trail. She was going to talk to him beofre class started. She was going to ─
Alya's banshee-squeal penetrated her senses like a knife.
Closing her ears, she watched as her best friend bounced up and down in front of her. Her glasses were hanging low on her nose that Marinette worried it might fall off considering how badly her friend was vibrating. Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth, clearly trying to hold back another squeal. She was looking at something on the wall. But before she could even glance at it, Nino emerged from out of nowhere and draped an arm around Marinette. "Dude, you made it!" He said happily.
"Um, of course I made it," Marinette murmured uncertainly, "it's school, afterall."
"Good, good." He nodded. Marinette got the feeling that he didn't really hear her. "Say, I got news for you! Tomorrow night, ten sharp, club downtown. You comin', right?"
Marinette blinked up at him like he had asked her to swallow his sock.
"Let me ellaborate." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together gleefuly. "Ya see─"
"A Battle of the Moves!" Alya interupted. She bounded forward and hitched an arm at the opposite side of her best friend. "Can you believe it, Marinette? It's happening!"
"Yo, Alya, quit stealing my thunder!" Nino barked. "I was gonna tell her!"
"Uh, in case you haven't noticed, four eyes, I'm her best friend and I'm telling her!" She tugged her arm left arm.
"I got to her first!" Nino tugged her right arm. "And in case you haven't noticed, you're a four eyes, too!"
"My glasses are way better than yours, ultimate four eyes!" Alya tugged again.
"Okay, stop!" Marinette yanked and moved so she was facing the both of them and well away from their aggresive grip. Rubbing the spots they had held, she continued sourly, "What is up with you guys?"
"A Battle of the Moves!" They both said in union.
"Yes, I heard it since Alya practically screamed it in my ear. But what is it?"
"There's this sick club in town that's holding the best contest in Paris history." Alya said. "You won't believe who's gonna be the DJ."
"Yours truly." Nino bowed dramatically.
"Really?" Marinette beamed and patted her friend on the shoulder. "That's awesome news! No one knows music better than you!"
"Thank you." He smirked. "I auditioned last week and finally got my first gig. It's just for a few rounds, but still."
"Trust me, once you blast them with the first song, they'll be begging you for an encore." She turned to Alya. "No wonder you're in such a hyper mood. You must be so proud of him."
"What?" Her expression turned perplexed before understanding dawned on her. "Oh, no, no, no! I was thrilled with the other half of the news!"
Nino shot her a look.
"N-Not that I'm not happy for you, Nino!" She hurriedly added. "Come on, you know I'm just as excited for you! But seriously, Marinette, I have one big question for you and you've gotta answer it right now, got it?" She nodded. "Alright. Ready?" She slid sideways to reveal a poster. The background was dark, painted with multi-colored highlights in the shape of graffiti. Being someone with a creative side, Marinette took the time to marvel at the art. There was a drawing of a few DJs, and she guessed the one with glasses was Nino, to her delight. At the corner was a disco ball that seemed to produce starry lights across the surface. Musical notes danced around the words, and indications like foot prints flowed alongside it. Finally, she let her gaze focus on the information it had for her.
BATTLE OF THE MOVES
DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BRING HOME THOUSANDS OF EUROS?
Her breath momentarily stuttered in her throat and she mentally forced her mind to race through the sentences.
BREAK-DANCE YOUR WAY TO THE TOP AND BATTLE AGAINST OTHER TEAMS TO SHOW THAT YOU DO!
EACH TEAM CONSISTS OF FOUR MEMBERS, GENDER-FREE AND RANGING FROM TODDLERS TO PENSIONERS. PREPARE YOURSELVES A KICK-ASS GROUP NAME AND SIGN UP AT THE ADDRESS DOWN BELOW.
THE RULES? SIMPLE! JUST DON'T TELL US YOUR REAL NAMES!
Marinette couldn't help raising a confused eyebrow at the last sentence. At the bottom it read: The Akuma. She guessed that it was the club that Nino had mentioned the first time. There was a date, a time, and specific instructions on how to get there.
"So?" Alya prompted. "You are joining my team, aren't you?"
"I never said that!" Marinette tried to look away, but the stern air around her made it almost impossible to do so. "I-I know we dance sometimes during lunch but─"
"Marinette, you are so good! Hell, you're a demon when it comes to the dance floor!"
"She's got a point, you know." Nino shrugged.
"This is what we've been dreaming about since we first listened to hip-hop, girl!" She took hold of her hands then. "We could dance our hearts out! Oh, Nino gave me a demo of the music he's gonna play and it's off the charts! The beat, the energy, the atmosphere ─ you won't even believe it's real!"
"Alya," Marinette's shoulders slumped despite the roaring storm in her head. Dancing. Loud music. Freedom. If all that wasn't enough to tempt her (and it absolutely did), then the promise of money had her drooling. Thousands of Euros? For doing what she loved? Was that sort of chance even possible? In what felt like decades, her heart soared. To be able to participate in that kind of event, she wondered about how it'd feel like. Letting her body move in time with a song, not caring about reality and just relying on her soul to guide her, it sounded like a miracle. But… "I have a bakery to help run."
The other girl's face fell.
"My mom's sick. You know that. I can't just run off on my parents to practice for this."
"We can make up a schedule!" She insisted. "I'm pretty flexible with my time. We can find two more members who aren't so busy either. We can make it work for you!"
"My shift is from the minute I get home from school until it closes at nine."
"We still have lunch, goddammit! We can squeeze in a few sessions and─"
"What, fifteen minutes a day to practice? If we were just performing on the streets and our only rival was a mime, then yeah, that could work. But in this kind of contest? We need at least two hours of the day! Choreography, costumes, brainstorming ideas, training; it's going to be a full-time thing and I'm just… not cut out for it." When she saw the disappointment lingering, she clutched her hand in return and gave it a reassuring shake. "That doesn't mean that you can't join. You know I'd cheer you on. Dancing is your passion. You can win."
And it was true. At the age of eleven, they had tried out a dance machine at the local arcade for the first time and it instantly became their most favorite thing to play. Before Sabine, Marinette's mom, fell ill, they used to go every Sunday and spend their leftover money of the week to jump on the tiles for a few hours. At thirteen, they sought the guidance of YouTube and copied the moves of professional break-dancers all over the world. Alya would come over on the weekends to get some moves into their systems. It was great work-out, and the increase of stamina was an added plus for Marinette as she carried packs of flour around the bakery. Just this year, they managed to come up with their own choreography and most of the time it was impromptu. On the rare days that Marinette didn't have to work, they went to the Eiffel Tower with a hat on the ground and entertained the tourists. Applauses would push them to do better and ignite a fire in them that they'd hardly show at school. The shouts of approval and awe would make them forget about their huffing breaths and pull them into a pool of satisfaction. Dancing was both of their passion.
And yet, Marinette still couldn't grab the thread of hope dangling between her eyes.
"You're the best dancer I know." Alya said softly. "You can't expect me to sign up without you. I won't."
"I'm sorry, Alya. The bakery needs me."
"It's always the bakery, Marinette!" She growled before clutching her hair like her head was about to explode. "When are you going to allow yourself to have fun again? I know you're having a hard time, but think about it! We've juggled our time before for the sake of break-dancing and we can do it again. Why not try it? You can't just sit behind a cash register every single day!"
She was about to retort when Nino put a hand on both of their shoulders. "Okay, okay, time out. This was not what I had in mind when I asked you to join." He said. "I just figured that it'd be sick to have the class to watch the show. And I've seen you guys dance. You're good. It'd be even sicker if you sign up for the competition. But this," he gestured at them vaguely. "Nuh-uh. No arguing. Just forget about the poster and be done with it."
"This isn't just about the dumb competition, Nino." Alya fumed. "She hasn't danced with me for weeks! She even goes as far as going straight to work during lunch break! She forgets to eat sometimes and I have to remind her every single night to get up and drink some water! She's pushing herself so damn hard and I just wanted her to let loose for once."
Marinette snapped her eyes to her shoes. She couldn't handle the look in her eyes anymore. "I'm sorry." She murmured weakly.
Alya whirled around and walked away.
Nino sighed dejectedly. "Sorry about that. She was just so stoked about this whole thing. She'll cool down soon, I guarantee you."
She forced out a smile and nodded. "I guess."
"Hey, the competition still stands. Think about it." He bumped her hip with his playfully. "Now, I gotta scat. I still have to invite as many people as possible. You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah. Go. Congrats again on your gig!" She waved.
Suddenly, she felt a rough hand shove her from behind and nearly tripped on her own feet. Chloe sauntered in, followed by Sabrina. "Ugh, excuse you," Chloe sneered. "What gives you the right to stand in front of the door like that? I had to waste my precious time trying to get around you!"
"Whatever, Chloe." Marinette glared back. "I was just─"
"Perfect timing, dude!" Nino cut in. "Guess who's gonna be the big guy in the club tomorrow night! Me! Yeah, it's me, and the mayor's daughter would so come, right?"
"You mean that lame dance thingy?" She cackled. "I wouldn't be caught dead watching some dorks in harem pants trying to do the worm shuffle. I mean, seriously, it's preposterous! Sweating and all that gross stuff is so not my level."
"Dancing is something that people can enjoy doing," Marinette spat. "You don't need to spend a single Euro to do it. But I guess you wouldn't know 'cause you're practically bathing in it to see that."
"Hey, don't talk to Chloe like that!" Sabrina piped up.
"Sabrina's right. Don't talk to me like that!" Chloe stomped her foot and pointed a finger at her. "So a loser like you is going to participate in that? Oh gosh, if you were, I might just consider going just to see you humiliate yourself!"
"I'm a better dancer than you are, at least."
Chloe threw her head back and laughed. "You? Better than me? Honey, I've been waltzing across the ballroom since I was in diapers! The difference between our dances is that mine has class. It's something that people appreciate and think highly of whereas yours is just so…" she shivered dramatically, "Vulgar."
"Why you little─"
Before she knew it, hands were restraining her from lunging. She squirmed and kicked, screaming incoherent curses. From the flame in her eyes, she could see Chloe's frigid form in the doorway, completely paralyzed and, if she were to guess, fearful. An animalistic urge to claw at her was so great that she would have really done it if it weren't for the multiple students who held her back.
Sabrina was the first to react. The redhead guided her friend away and over to their seat. "Get back here and fight me, Chloe!" Marinette shrieked. "I've had enough of your antics and I swear I'll─"
"Easy, Marinette." A soft voice spoke behind her. "She's not worth it. C'mon, just leave her."
"You expect me to bow down to her every time she insults me?" She grounded out. "She even went as far as insulting─"
Her sentence halted when she realized who she was talking to. Adrien stood there, worried and tense. He held up both palms up like he was surrendering to her wrath. "I know you love dancing." He started. "And I get that Chloe crossed the line." At that, he shot said girl a stern look. "But she's a spoiled girl and her dad won't let you go if you so much as touch her."
"Stupid rich kid." Marinette unconsciously mumbled. It was too late for her brain to stop her and she caught her mouth with her hands, horrified. "I-I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean you, I meant Chloe! You may be rich b-but you aren't stupid! I was definitely not implying it to you!"
The bell rang overhead.
Marinette had never been so relieved for class to start. Uttering another apology to a confused Adrien, she sprinted up the stairs and slumped into her seat. Next to her, Alya pretended to be busy with her phone. Sighing, Marinette tapped her shoulder. "Don't be mad." She whispered.
"Not mad."
"You so are."
Class was dull and busy at the same time. Dull because Alya still wouldn't speak. Busy because the extra amount of questions in their textbook drilled a headache into their heads. Marinette sighed halfway through the lecture, sneaking glances at Alya. Sometimes the other girl would mimic the gesture and they'd lock eyes for a split second, but that was it. No talking whatsoever.
She hadn't been lying when she said the bakery needed her. Her dad already had his hands full with bread-making. Her mom had tried working just a couple of days ago and it ended with her having a high fever. It was only last night Marinette had seen her out of bed, preparing a small dinner for the family. No, she refused to let Sabine work overtime.
Looking at the poster again, he resolve wavered. A break-dance competition. Thousands of Euros. With a team of four, the money could still be split and she'd have enough to sustain her life for months. She could get the medical treatment Sabine needed. Sabine could be healthy again.
And the opportunity to dance again. God, she missed it. When the bakery was eerie, she'd grab her headphones and turn up her favorite songs. It wasn't merely a few times where her parents caught her popping a few numbers behind the counter. She still loved to do it, she's never really stopped, and she always sought any chances she could get to just let the rhythm flow through her veins. The sensations it brought to her body was better than any drug, and more addicting as well.
Though a part of her mind scolded her for being selfish. Dancing was just a hobby. Her parents needed her to focus on school and their family store. Those two were the only things that mattered. Dancing had to be third on her list of priorities.
The last period was wasted with her reciting song lyrics.
Dropping her head to the desk, she groaned. School. Bakery. Focus. Dammit, girl, focus.
Alya was up and out in a blink of an eye. She didn't even get to invite her for lunch. Shouldering her pink bag, she followed after her into the courtyard. Alya sat with her legs crossed under a tree, sandwich poised in front of her mouth. She huffed and turned away when Marinette joined her.
The afternoon breeze swept her hair aside and brought a somewhat cozy feeling to her skin. She let her eyes close for a minute and laid back on the tree's trunk. The sun shone brightly and bathed them in warmth. The dense sheet of leaves above blocked any unwanted heat. It was a wonderful day.
A faint sound echoed in her ears. From Alya's phone, Demi Lovato sang the first words of Really Don't Care. Opening one eye, Marinette watched as Alya bobbed her head to the melody. Occasionally, she would catch her leg shaking and her arms moving about. Chewing on her sandwich, Alya continued her game of ignoring her best friend.
Marinette bit her lip and tried to nibble on the cookies that she had brought to get her attention away from the music.
Even if the stars and moon collide
I never want you back into my life
Little did she know, her foot was already tapping against the grass. She ate another cookie and leaned her body closer to Alya. The other girl smirked but didn't move.
You can take your words and all your lies
Oh, oh, oh, I really don't care
At the last sentence, the two girls sang it together, giggling. Marinette stood up and extended a hand to her. Grabbing it and hoisting herself up, they left their things on the ground and twirled around each other once before swishing their hips in time with the beat. Hand in her hair, Alya snapped her other arm out and made a gesture like she was pulling Marinette with a rope. She in turn hopped sideways and folded herself forward, whipping her pigtails and letting her fingers scrape the air. Bringing them back to her hips, she crouched low and popped back up in a series of shakes and fluttering clothes.
Alya laughed, a sweet sound emanating from the inside, and jerked her legs in fast motions that brought her closer to the soil. On her knees, she fanned her hands over her shoulders, waist, and doubled over before flowing back up in one fluid wave of her body.
A crowd was starting to form around them. Some of the upperclassmen whistled and cheered. Their classmates ushered them to bring on a comeback as the final lyrics ended in a blur. The next song played, fast and rough and entrancing. The people around them clapped their hands and whooped as they broke out of their shells and brought the bundled up energy up and into their beings. They showed it in the way they swirled and pushed, jumped and swayed, and the way they panted for breath that they couldn't need any less. Their blood boiled and their minds buzzed with every passing notes. Like Marinette had said, this was more addicting than any drug.
Alya flipped backwards, around and around, and landed flawlessly. The audience screamed and escalated their enthusiasm. Like a challenge, Alya turned her nose up and tweaked a single finger at her friend.
More than happy to oblige, Marinette brought both legs up from under her and landed on one hand, kicking her feet in different directions. When she fell, she swung like a blade and slashed at the space between her and the ground. Another clap of bewilderment and fascination. She cocked her head and grinned.
The second song ended. The field went still.
A boy clapped first, followed by another, and in less than a second the others boomed.
"That was awesome!"
"How'd you guys learn those dance tricks?"
"Can you teach us sometimes?"
"Encore! Encore!"
It was impossible for them to smile any wider. The adrenaline still pulsed in their heads. They still trembled with excitement. The high of the music and the adoration from their spectators put them at the edge of a cliff, and damn it to hell if they weren't tempted to leap.
Alya held Marinette's hand and bowed. Dazed, the other girl did the same.
Maybe the competition wasn't a bad idea after all. The thought kept occurring to the point she literally couldn't think about anything else. At work, she mixed up a few orders, accidentally writing cocoa instead of chocolate, and she got the baking soda and the sugar powder all switched up. To wrap the day up, she forgot about her chemistry homework.
It was half an hour before closing time. She didn't even bother grabbing her textbook from upstairs. She'd just pull an all-nighter and get it done. In the midst of distress, Sabine poked her head from the hallway. "Honey," She crooned. "Are you okay?"
Her head snapped up in alert. "Mom! Why are you out of bed?" Rushing over, she held her mother at the shoulders.
"Ah, I just wanted to check up on you." She smiled. "So, how are things going at school?"
"I-I'm doing fine, mom. Please, let me take you upstairs─"
Sabine waved a dismissive hand. "You always say that. Tell me in more detail. How's that boy Adrien?"
A blush formed over her cheeks. "I haven't really made any progress. He's just so… magnificent. Kind. Charming. Oh, mom, you should've seen him today!"
"Yes?"
"He helped me this morning. I was kind of, uh, emotional and frustrated with a friend. He actually took hold of my shoulders!" To emphasize her point, she reenacted the scene with herself as Adrien and her mother as Marinette. She held her shoulders from behind and gave her a small squeeze. Sabine giggled heartily.
"The handsome prince did that?"
"Yeah!"
Sabine's hand flew to her mouth, and Marinette's first thought was that she was laughing again. But instead a cough racked her entire body, sending her in a fit of shuddering and wheezing. "Mom!" Panic seized Marinette, wormed its way under her skin and made her shudder. "Papa! Papa!"
She hazily heard her father's heavy steps. She hazily saw her mom being swept off her feet and into her room. She hazily registered that she followed them inside.
Tom fussed with the blankets for a minute and gave his wife a pill and a cup of water. "Drink." He murmured.
Gulping the medicine down, Sabine sighed. "Thank you. I'm fine now." She touched his cheek affectionately. He grabbed it in response and kissed the inside of her wrist, an old habit that they shared.
Marinette was unmoving at the foot of the bed. Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill. She fisted her hands and bit her cheeks to suppress it. If she cried, stopping would be almost impossible. She rested a shaking hand on her mother's ankle. "Get better, mom." She whispered, her voice cracking at the end. "Please, just get better." A drop fell on the mattress. She rubbed her eyes furiously, but it only made matters worse. A sob escaped her mouth, tiny and regretful, and the dam finally broke and she found herself in the arms of her father. He stroked her back and hair, but the sadness and pain kept welling up. Her chest felt like it was about to burst. The agonizing image of her mother in the hospital three months prior, an oxygen mask maintaining her consciousness and weird tubes hooked into her arms. She never wanted to see that ever again.
"Give her to me."
"Sabine…"
"Go lock up the store. I'll watch her."
The door creaked open and closed. An invisible string pulled her towards her mother's awaiting hug. She laid there beside her, struggling with her emotions while at the same time releasing the pressure from the day to Sabine's shoulder. Warm and familiar, the woman embraced her and said nothing.
It was almost ten when she decided to get up and let her parents get some rest. She kissed them both on the cheek, lingering a moment longer for her mom, and bolted down the corridor to her room. Once the door was securely locked, she thumped her head back on the wood and exhaled sharply. It was clear now. Her resolve was as solid as a stone.
Picking up her phone, she punched in a series of numbers and waited. "Hello?" Alya purred from the other line.
"Count me in."
She could hear the grin forming even with the distance between them. "I knew you'd cave. Let's talk about the details tomorrow."
That night, she couldn't sleep. Well, it was a good thing because she could do her homework without any trouble. And the extra time she had was good to let her think, too. Yes, there will be lies. Her parents couldn't find out or else she'll never listen to another beat ever again. Undercover was the way to go. Sneak out, practice, go to the club, and come back home before anyone noticed she was gone. She was going to dance like her life depended on it. She was going to bring home the money.