Lover in Red, Fighter in Blue

by chrisbec

A complicated, messy love story full of laughter and loss, hurt and healing, courage and cowardice, friendship and fighting, finding family, and finding oneself. In other words, the story where Clarke and Lexa fall madly in love in the sixth grade and it takes the nerds four long years to figure it all out. Also, they do a lot of Tae Kwon Do.

1. Chapter 1

Lover in Red, Fighter in Blue

PART ONE: Squaring Off Eye to Eye

OR

The Sorta Rocky Start

Chapter 1

The Violent Collision of Green Eyes and Blue

OR

Alexandria and the Terrible, Horrible, No good, Very Bad Day

LEXA

For the first time since I rolled my sorry butt out of bed this morning, I feel the corners of my lips tug into the tiniest of smiles. The door to the classroom is slightly ajar and I cannot help but nurse the little ray of hope shining stubbornly in the dark pit of my empty belly. I know it's foolish. I know that hope is just like those little cheerful pink and yellow and blue packets of fake sugar sitting on the table wedged between the napkins and the dessert menu at Denny's: Falsely sweet... Designed to deceive... Poisonous.

But I rip a packet open anyway and pour the powder into my palm and I only mean to dip the tip of my tongue into it. I only mean to take a taste. But soon I am licking at it greedily. And my brain is already falling for its lie.

Maybe... Just maybe... Something will go right for me this morning.

So I pry my tattered, old backpack from my shoulders and clutch it in my fist at my side instead. I cross the fingers of my free hand. I suck in a breath and I pull my tummy in as far as I can. I turn sideways and I close my eyes as if believing the darkness behind my lids can hide me. And I slowly wedge my way through the narrow opening. My desk is in the back row and if I can just sneak my way in silently, maybe... Just maybe... No one will notice me.

The edge of the door pulls at the thin fabric of my t-shirt as I try to force my ribs to shrink with my tummy. I'm almost through. I'm almost through. I'm almost...

"Miss Woods," The stern, deep voice makes me jump and I ram my stomach against the sharp edge of the door and I cannot stop the "humph" of pain that escapes my lips. Two words... Two words... and just like that the little ray of hope inside of me is swallowed by the darkness and all that is left of its lie is the nasty chemical sweetness coating the back of my tongue.

Already a disaster, I quickly sidle the rest of the way through the door and try to turn to face the classroom. But, as if things aren't bad enough, of course the strap of my backpack catches on the door's handle and I'm yanked backwards even as the door pulls fully open with an absurdly loud "creak" that echoes off the classroom walls.

I've had this backpack since 3rd grade and it seems the old blue plastic and the silver duct tape just can't hold themselves together strap of my pack pulls right off its backing, but not before tearing a huge gash right through the midline of Sailor Moon's winking face. And all of a sudden, my textbooks and my Hello Kitty binder, my scribbled homework and beat-up composition notebooks, my Power Rangers pencil case and my dollar-store calculator... All the pieces of me... Erupt from the pack and spew onto the floor with a clatter along with all that what was left of my dignity.

I thought I was having a bad morning. I was wrong. This morning started off bad and has only gotten worse. I'm having a TERRIBLE morning.

"Alexandria," The voice speaks again and I cringe under it, cowering as if the sound, itself, might somehow magically grow a hand to spank me across the butt with. "You're late again."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Indra." I choke out, trying to find my voice under the icy glare of the teacher and 60 other staring eyes. I keep my own eyes on the ugly orange-brown linoleum beneath me. I don't have to see them to know that every kid in this room is staring at me, watching me hastily shove my things back into my ruined backpack, cradling Sailor Moon's face against my chest to keep her from breaking open further, and maybe to keep myself from breaking open further too.

The sounds of half-stifled snickers and soft giggles follow me across the back of the room, beating on my eardrums like gongs and cymbals. And I think my face might just catch fire as I begin my walk of shame.

"Geek!" I hear Ontari hiss as I reach her desk. She sticks a foot into my path to try to trip me, but I'm not dumb enough to fall for that again, and I shoot her the best stink-eye I can muster as I step over her Converse All-Stars and slink towards my desk.

"Come see me during recess." Ms. Indra commands, eyeing me through her dark-brown, almost black eyes, as I sink into my chair. Its plastic is mercifully cool against the heat of my burning skin.

"Yes, ma'am." I answer in a small voice, trying my hardest not to mumble. Ms. Indra hates it when I mumble.

"Wow! That was quite the entrance." Raven giggles from beside me as I shove my stupid backpack into the cavern of my desk, wishing I could shove myself in with it. "But next time you should get someone to warn us first. Like have one of the 2nd graders blow a trumpet or a kazoo to announce your approach so we can get our cameras ready."

"Shut up, Raven." I grumble, giving her a playful shove with my elbow.

"Seriously, though..." She whispers. "If I had known, I could've gotten that on video and posted it on my YouTube channel. It probably would've gotten more likes than the vid of Helios jumping on Bell's head last year."

"No way," I whisper back, feeling my reddened cheeks pulling into a smile at the memory of Octavia's fat, ginger cat leaping from the top of the bookshelf directly onto Bellamy's head right as the two of them took in deep breaths, preparing to blow out their candles. Helios' piercing howl had made the perfect off-key finale to our rendition of the 'Happy Birthday' song and Bellamy's eyes hadn't even gone wide with surprise before the flying ball of orange fur had collided with his head, knocking his pointed cardboard hat askew and pushing him face-first into the Ninja Turtles cake. He had smashed into Mikey and the frosting had left streaks of doo-doo green across his cheeks as he smeared the sugary mess from his face. Helios had let out a last angry screech and scampered off while Octavia had just laughed at her twin. And I couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had been wishing for something like that to happen as she had stared down at her flickering candles.

"That video was epic." I laugh. "There's no way I can top Helios. He's the star of all of your best videos."

Raven and I quickly stifle our giggles as Ms. Indra's frosty glare falls on me again, and I duck my head into my desk, pulling out my science textbook as an excuse to avoid its cold. I've had a terrible morning. And I know my recess appointment with Ms Indra will turn it into a terrible, HORRIBLE morning. But I'm still smiling as I flip my textbook open in search of the drawing of the Solar System. Because with Raven beside me, nothing ever seems quite so bad.

"Jupiter has sixty-seven moons." Ms. Indra continues the lesson I so spectacularly interrupted, pulling her frown off of me and turning to the blackboard to scribble 'Galilean Moons' across it. The other teachers use hot-pink and bright-orange and neon-green and electric-blue chalk in pathetic attempts to make their lectures less boring. But not Ms. Indra. She only ever uses classic, no-nonsense white.

"Sixty-seven moons." She repeats. "The most out of any of the planets in our Solar System. Its four largest moons are known as the Galilean Moons. Can anyone name any of them?"

My desk wobbles as Raven's hand shoots into the air beside me, making my eyes roll and my small smile pull a little wider.

"Anyone?" Ms. Indra challenges again, scanning the room. Ms. Indra's eyes avoid Raven's as fiercely as the rest of us try to avoid hers.

"Io..." I mutter under my breath, playing with the corner of the page, folding it and unfolding it and folding it again. "Europa..."

I actually know the answer to this one. I've known pretty much everything there is to know about the Solar System and the space beyond it since I was little and my dad used to drag me out to the backyard with him every time the night was clear enough to spot the stars. And we would huddle together in the itchy grass under my Lion King sleeping bag as he pointed out the sparkling smudge of the Milky Way and named the tiny glints of stars and planets and lifted my finger to trace out the constellations shining weakly against the black.

I used to love everything about outer space. I loved it because HE loved it. And I loved him.

And I don't love it anymore. Not even a little bit. In fact, I think I might just hate it.

And I try not to look at the horribly inaccurate diagram of the Solar System on the page beneath my fingertips as much as I try to never look up at the night sky above me whenever I find myself alone in the darkness. And I just fold and unfold and refold the corner.

Because the stars... The planets... Everything that shimmers in the void of space... They all make me think of him and the void he left inside of me. And I hate it, because no matter how hard I try... No matter how tightly I close my eyes... No matter how hard I dig my knuckles into my temples... I cannot ever remember him properly.

I cannot remember the exact timbre of his laughter or the way it crinkled the skin around his eyes until they watered and his cheeks turned red. I can't remember the exact shades of gray swirling in those eyes or the sound of his voice when he called out 'I'm home!' in his ridiculous Donald Duck impression. I can't remember the exact feel of his strong callused palms wrapped gently around my tiny hands or the tips of his fingers playfully prodding the ticklish spots between my ribs. I cannot remember the exact smell of him, the combination of Old Spice and Irish Spring and grass and sweat and hard work. I can't remember ANY of it properly.

But the stupid names of the stupid Galilean Moons? Yup... I remember all of those perfectly.

"Anyone?" Ms. Indra asks again, almost pleadingly, looking increasingly disappointed in her pathetic pupils. My desk is trembling now and if I wasn't so used to the shake, I might mistake it for an earthquake. But I know it is only the aftershocks emanating from the epicenter of Raven's good leg bouncing against the floor beneath her as she practically hovers in her seat, desperately waving her hand to get Ms. Indra's attention.

Ms. Indra lets out a defeated sigh as she's done a thousand times before. "OK Rav-" She pauses in surprise. "Yes... Clarke?"

Clarke? I pull my eyes from the corner of my dog-eared page where the crease I've worked into it is already starting to tear like the sad line running down Sailor Moon's forehead on my poor, old backpack. And I look up to see a hand floating tentatively in the space above a head of wild, blond, wavy hair.

"Io." A small voice says. It is high and delicate, soft and pretty, and makes me think of birds. "Europa, Callisto, and Gany... Ganymede."

"Very good, Clarke." Ms. Indra says and I swear for half a second I actually see her flash a smile. The earthquake in our corner of the room stops abruptly as Raven slumps back into her chair with a ridiculous pout on her face.

"Great... Another geek." Ontari snickers from a few desks over and I see the head of messy blond waves sink a little lower in its seat. And though I don't even know the girl, I feel myself bristling with anger as more snickers and giggles echo across the classroom. I'm seriously considering chucking my floppy pink eraser at the back of Jasper's laughing head when Ms. Indra silences the laughter for me.

"Enough." She calls out in the voice that I swear sometimes makes the hairs on my arms stand up like Ms. Indra is a bigger, darker, scarier version of Queen Elsa, and has the magical power to bring Winter along with her wherever she goes. "Ontari... Perhaps you could tell me which of those four moons is the driest known object in our Solar System and is covered in volcanoes?"

Ontari glares up at Ms. Indra for a long moment and for one second I think she might actually open her sassy mouth and earn herself a detention. But even Ontari is neither brave, nor stupid enough to talk back in Ms. Indra's class.

"Uhhh... Calliopamede?" Ontari guesses as more laughter rings through the classroom.

"Exactly as I suspected." Ms. Indra shakes her head. "Maybe instead of teasing others for studying you should try opening a book yourself, for once. That goes for ALL of you..." She calls out over the growing snickers. "We'll see how many of you are laughing after the test on Friday."

I turn to Raven as a collective groan reverberates around the classroom at Ms. Indra's words.

"Clarke?" I whisper. "Who's Clarke?"

"New kid." Raven shrugs.

"Well, duh..." I roll my eyes. "I figured out THAT much."

"All I know is Ms. Indra introduced her as 'Clarke Griffin from California.'" Raven mumbles as I crane my neck, trying to get a better view of the girl.

"So..." Ms. Indra speaks again. "Who CAN tell me which of the moons is covered in volcanoes?"

The earthquake returns in full force and I watch to see if Clarke raises her hand again, but she remains slumped in her chair. And I wonder if, like me, the girl mutters the answer under her breath as Ms. Indra sighs and turns her gaze to Raven.

***...***

The recess bell finally rings and I try to get a better look at the new girl, but all I catch is a glimpse of a light blue windbreaker before she is swallowed in the chaos of our classmates laughing and pushing and shoving each other through the door. I rise from my chair, duck my head, and try to meld into the edges of the throng, but Ms. Indra hasn't forgotten. Ms. Indra never forgets.

"Lexa," She calls. "Just where do you think you are going?"

"Nowhere, ma'am." I sigh as Raven whispers a soft, sympathetic, "Good luck." And limps her way into the crowd.

I slowly meander my way through the rows of the small, cluttered desks of my classmates up to the massive, pristinely organized desk in the front of the room. I take a deep breath and swallow hard, preparing myself for whatever wintry storm is coming my way.

"You were late again today, Lexa." Ms. Indra tells me as if I need reminding; as if I forgot the terrible, horrible morning I had.

"I'm sorry." I mumble because I do not know what else to say.

"Speak clearly." Ms. Indra scolds me.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Indra." I say more loudly.

"You are ALWAYS sorry, Lexa." Ms. Indra sighs. "But I'm afraid remorse is no substitute for punctuality. You were over an hour late today, Lexa. I can overlook five minutes... Maybe ten. But an hour? It is unacceptable. Do you have a reason to give me this time?"

I consider my options, wondering how much I should tell her; wondering how much I can get away WITHOUT telling her. I could tell her the truth; I could tell her all about my terrible, horrible morning.

"My alarm didn't go off." Is all I say.

"Your alarm didn't go off?" Ms Indra repeats, flatly. "I think what you mean is that you did not set your alarm properly." She corrects me.

Actually, I mean precisely what I said. My alarm DIDN'T go off. And it wasn't because I didn't set it properly. It was because they came and cut the electricity sometime in the early hours of the morning, because apparently Mom failed to pay the bill on time again. But I don't tell Ms. Indra that. I just bite my tongue as she continues.

"An alarm clock is a tool, Lexa. If it is to be helpful it has to be used properly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." I mutter, staring down at the hole in my sneaker where my big toe has finally burrowed its way out. I wiggle it nervously, still biting my tongue as I accept the reprimand.

The truth is, my alarm DIDN'T go off. But that isn't the reason I was late. I've long trained my body to wake up with the sun, knowing the electricity, like the water and the gas, could go out at any moment. And it could be days before my mother scrounges up enough money to get it turned back on.

I woke up on time this morning. I got dressed on time. I shoved my books and my homework and my everything into Sailor Moon's bandaged face on time. And I was still on time when I stepped from the bedroom into the living room and found her, asleep, her body draped half on the sofa, half on the floor, a thin film of vomit still drying over the glistening silver rhinestones on her shirt.

I could have walked right past her. I could have rummaged through the empty kitchen cupboards for some stale cornflakes to shove in my fist as I walked right out the door. I could have caught my bus. I could have been on time.

But instead I had rummaged through the empty cupboards for coffee. And I had pried the bottle of alcohol and the bottle of pills from her clammy fingers, given her a hard shake, and shoved the steaming mug into her shaky hands instead. And I had helped her drag herself to the bathroom, wriggle out of her soiled tank-top and miniskirt and into the cold water, then the fluffy pajamas and then the thin blanket covering our stained mattress. And I had climbed back into the bed beside her and rubbed circles on her back until the trembling stopped and the snoring started. And I had rolled back out of the bed, grabbed my pack, locked the door behind me, and started the long walk to school, no longer on time. Not even remotely on time.

Ms. Indra eyes me up and down and her eyes linger on the hole in my thin shirt and the hole in my high-water jeans and the hole in my too-tight sneakers. But I feel like she is really looking past all of that and peering into the hole in my soul.

"How did you get to school today, Lexa?" She asks.

"Walked." I mutter.

"You live over in Greenwood Apartments, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's about a four mile walk..."

"Yes, ma'am."

She considers me for a moment. "Did you wear a jacket today?"

"No, ma'am... I..." I can't get my jacket over my long, lanky arms. I've grown too much since last winter. "I forgot to grab it, because I was in a hurry."

Ms. Indra just stares at me. Her eyebrows pull together. Her lips pull together. My toe still wiggles. Now my thumbs join in. Ms. Indra isn't yelling at me or scolding me anymore, but the concerned look on her face right now is so much worse than the frowns of anger or annoyance. The questions are so much worse than the reprimands. Ms. Indra looks comfortable in her thick black cardigan, but I'm starting to sweat beneath my thin shirt.

"How are things at home, Lexa?" She asks.

"Ma'am?" I say, because I do not know how to answer.

"You live with your mother, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"She couldn't give you a ride to school today?"

"No, ma'am. She..." Doesn't have a car. "Works late and sleeps through the mornings." And the afternoons.

"I see... What does your mother do for work?"

"She's..." A cocktail waitress. Sometimes, when the electricity or the water or the gas gets turned off, she's an exotic dancer. "She works in a..." Nightclub. "Restaurant."

"I see... And your mother can't help you wake up in time for school?"

"No, ma'am. Like I said, she..." Sometimes doesn't come home. "Gets home late. And is usually..." Passed out. "Asleep when I get up."

"I see. And do you make yourself breakfast every morning, then?"

"Yes, ma'am." Stale cornflakes when I can find them. "Cereal."

Ms. Indra scrunches her lips to the side, then pulls them between her teeth, then runs her tongue over them, considering me all the while. And I just wiggle and avoid her eyes.

"OK. Well..." She sighs. "You've been significantly late three times this past month. I'm afraid that if it happens again I will have to contact your mother and we will have to discuss our options for getting you to school on time in the future."

"Yes, ma'am. It won't happen again. I promise." I lie through my teeth.

She gives me a dismissive nod and I try to walk calmly from the room, when all I want to do is run.

***...***

I step into the chilly October air and I take a deep breath, already tasting the threat of the coming winter in the wind. And I look out over the crowded playground, scanning it for Raven's jet-black ponytail. But my eyes fall on Ontari's back first. As always, she's flanked on either side by her mindless friends, Echo and Roan... The three stooges. And even from a distance, it's obvious they are picking on someone. And I'm already having a terrible, horrible day. And I don't need their crap right now. And I know that my bad day is about to become a terrible, horrible, NO GOOD day.

I clench my fists and stomp across the blacktop feeling all of the anger and frustration of this morning bubbling in my blood like someone shook up a bottle of Root Beer, dumped an alka-seltzer into it and pumped the whole foaming mess into my veins. Because, honestly... It's been two years since Raven limped into our classroom... And they're STILL making fun of her clubfoot? It wasn't funny two years ago. And it's not funny now.

"Hey!" I shout out across the grass. "Mess with her and you mess with me!"

"Oh look..." Ontari scowls, turning towards me with her hands on her hips. "It's Geek #1 coming to rescue Geek #2!"

Ontari could be pretty if her eyes weren't always narrowed in anger, if her forehead wasn't always creased and her nose scrunched up and her lips pulled back in a snarl or a cocky smirk. When I was little and asked my father if I was 'pretty,' he told me I was beautiful because my soul was beautiful. He told me, 'women like to put on fancy clothes and make-up, but a girl is only ever as pretty as her soul, Lexa.' And from what I've seen of it, I'm guessing Ontari's soul is black and shriveled and ugly, ugly, ugly.

"Shut up, Ontari!" I growl. "Just because she's smarter than the three of you stooges combined..."

"Why don't you stay out of this, Lexa!" Ontari spits. "Keep your ugly nose in a book where it belongs, and out of our business."

"Yeah... Stay out of this, Lexa." Echo echoes Ontari and I roll my eyes at her stupidity. Echo's real name is Isabella Eccovani, but we all call her 'Echo' because she never has an original thought in her dumb head. She might as well be an ugly parrot sitting atop Ontari's shoulder. It's hard to say who's the bigger mindless idiot: Echo, or Roan who barely ever says a word, but just stands beside Ontari cracking his thick knuckles and leering like a troll.

"Leave her alone!" I spit back at Ontari, my fingers starting to shake as I ball them and unclench them and ball them again. I want to punch Ontari on her ugly, smug face. I want to drive my knuckles into the soft spot between her sharp nose and her curled upper lip.

"Why don't you make me, huh?" Ontari challenges me.

"Yeah... Why don't you make her?" Echo repeats. We both ignore her.

"Let's see if you've learned anything since the last time I kicked your ass." Ontari smirks.

Before my angry brain can think of a comeback, Ontari's dark eyes dart past me and roll dramatically in her head. "Oh great... Here comes Geek #3! Now we've got the whole nerd squad. Quick, someone call the circus... Tell them we've got the Geeks AND the Freak!"

"The Geeks AND the Freak!" Echo repeats through a laugh as I turn in confusion at the weight of a hand on my shoulder.

And for a moment I just stare, blinking stupidly, utterly confused, because the hand on my shoulder belongs to Raven.

"Lexa... You can't get into another fight." She warns me. "Remember what Master Anya said?"

I stare at her lips, but I'm still too confused to even register what she is saying. Because if Raven is standing right in front of me, then who the H-E-Double-Toothpicks have I been defending this whole time?

"What's a matter, Lexa?" Ontari taunts me. "Afraid of getting another beat down?"

But I ignore the jeer and, for the first time, I look past Ontari and her idiots. And I get my first proper look at the face beneath the wild, golden locks.

If possible, the girl looks even angrier than I feel. Her cheeks are flushed red, her lips are pulled tight, and her jaw is clenched so tightly it looks painful. Her eyes are bluer than the Autumn sky above us and they burn hotter and brighter than the weak October sun. And the golden mane of hair and the wildness in her eyes makes me think of the lion I saw at the zoo during our end-of-the-year fieldtrip last year. And I think to myself that this girl should not be caged any more than he should be.

And I find myself blinking in surprise at her and wondering what kind of soul this girl must have. Because, even with the anger all over her face, I know without a doubt that she is the prettiest girl I've ever seen.

And, distracted as I am, I don't realize Ontari is threatening me until she is right up in my face, so close I can smell the bacon of her breakfast still stinking on her breath and see the ugly scar that splits the edge of her eyebrow and runs down along her cheekbone. She has her fists raised and her feet split into a fighting stance and, without even thinking about it, my body mimics hers. I'm on the balls of my feet now, my eyes dropping from her face to study her shoulders and hips, watching for the attack.

"Lexa..." Raven argues. "Save it for States." But I can barely hear her over the rush of blood in my ears.

Ontari's hips swivel. She's coming with her back leg and I'm preparing to dodge the blow when a sudden, deep voice bellows through the tense space between us.

"Do we have a problem here, girls?"

Ontari immediately drops her fists and plasters a fake smile across her face. "No, Mr. Gustus." She says in a sweet, girly voice. "We were just practicing our sparring. Getting ready for States."

"The bell's about to ring any minute now." Mr. Gustus warns in the massive, gruff voice that so perfectly matches his massive, gruff body. "Why don't you all head back to class?"

"Yes, Mr. Gustus." Ontari smiles again, pulling Roan and Echo by the wrists. "Come on, guys. We don't want to be late for Math." She drops her voice to a whisper as she shoves past me. "I'll kick your ass at States, Geek #1."

"Raven," Mr. Gustus calls as the Stooges wander off. "I've been meaning to talk to you about the possibility of you entering this year's science fair."

"I thought the fair was only for 7th and 8th graders..." Raven replies, following Mr. Gustus towards his classroom.

"The judging committee is considering making an exception in your case." Mr Gustus answers. But I'm no longer listening, because the blazing blue eyes have found mine and I can see nothing but the girl in front of me.

"Hey..." I call, taking a tentative step towards her. "Don't worry. The Three Stooges... Ontari and her idiot friends... They're just a bunch of butt-heads. Ontari's just jealous because you're smart." I mean to stop there, but for some stupid reason my lips keep moving and I hear my tongue blurt out the words I only ever planned on thinking. "And you're pretty."

I instantly feel myself blushing and spit out, "I'm Lexa." As fast as I can, hoping to somehow obliterate the words that already filled the space between us. I smile and start to extend my hand, then, thinking it's maybe too formal, I turn it into an awkward wave instead. The girl just frowns at me, the fire still burning in her eyes like the noonday sun in the peak of the Summer sky.

"You're Clarke, right?" I offer.

"I didn't need you to rescue me." The girl suddenly growls at me and the voice that made me think of birds now makes me think of a wildcat, meaner and more feral than Helios.

"I wasn't trying to rescue you..." I stutter, shrinking back from the heat of her glare. "I just..."

"I can fight for myself!" She hisses, glaring into me. And her eyes are full of fire. And just beyond the flames, I think I catch a glimpse of hollowness before she shoves her way past me as roughly as Ontari did.

"I just..." I start, pivoting to watch her go. "I just thought maybe you could use a friend." And the words come out as a mere mumble lost in the wind. Because the girl with the golden mane and the wild eyes and the names of Jupiter's moons inside of her is already stomping across the blacktop, far from the reaches of my voice.