Coach Maes calls for extra practices leading up to the meet. Mariemaia is careful to make sure her locker is secured each morning before practice. She sees Larissa and Minerva whispering to each other, glaring at her when Coach's back is turned. Coach Maes seems oblivious to the brewing animosity, praises her on her improvements and tenacity.
Mariemaia ignores them for the most part; careful to keep them in her line of sight but not responding to the verbal taunts they toss her way. The rest of the team ignores the building tension, choosing to overlook rather than engage. Just like people do, take the easiest way, she thinks. She shakes her head; Dorothy would have plenty to say about the human condition if she was able to watch morning practice.
On Wednesday, she enters the locker room to find Bastard Dictator scrawled across her locker in red paint. The letters are incongruous with the message, curly and bubbly with a heart dotting the letter I. As insults go, it isn't all that good or original. She's still staring at it when Kenzie shows up a few minutes later. The other girl is a year older and in the longer races, the 200m butterfly and relays. She frowns when she sees the locker.
"Come on," Kenzie states, grabbing her arm.
"What?" Mariemaia asks, looking up. "Where are we going?"
"To see Coach."
"There's no reason-" She trails off as Kenzie stares pointedly at her. "Yeah, okay," she agrees.
Kenzie leads her to the office sandwiched between the locker rooms. Coach Maes is in there sorting through files. He looks up at their knock. Kenzie's elbow knocks into Mariemaia's ribcage. Mariemaia ignores her, clasps her hands behind her back and stands at parade rest instead. She hears Kenzie exhale in annoyance.
"Someone vandalized Mariemaia's locker," Kenzie announces.
"Vandalized?" he questions, looking between them.
"They wrote Bastard Dictator on it," Mariemaia explains. She rolls her eyes. "In red paint."
Coach Maes scrubs at his face. "Alright, I'll sort it out. Thank you, ladies."
Mariemaia turns to go but Kenzie stays standing in the doorway. "I think it was Larissa and Minerva," she states. "They've been verbally bullying Mariemaia for weeks now."
"Kenzie," Mariemaia snaps.
"Is this true?" Coach Maes questions. He looks suddenly sharper than he did a moment ago. "Miss Khushrenada?"
She shrugs, trying for nonchalance. Coach Maes stares her down and Kenzie crosses her arms over her chest. "Just competitive jealousy," she replies finally, face red. "It's nothing."
"Why haven't you mentioned this before?"
Mariemaia shifts and lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. "It didn't seem important."
His face sets into a hard line and Kenzie takes her arm, dragging her away. "At least it's out in the open now," she says.
"You shouldn't have said anything."
"And you should have said something when they stole your clothes," Kenzie replies. "There are stupid pranks and then there's malicious intent. They've crossed the line."
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
Kenzie glances at her, shrugs a shoulder, and gives her a small, crooked smile. "We're on the same team, aren't we?"
. . ... . .
"Miss Khushrenada, a word?"
Mariemaia pauses as she stuffs her notebook into her bag. Dr. Arthav is looking at her from the front of the classroom. Some of her classmates pause on their way out, giving her curious or knowing looks. Mariemaia ignores their stares. She slings her bag over her shoulder and approaches Dr. Arthav's desk.
"I hear there was some type of incident this morning." Mariemaia remains silent, eyebrow arched in her best imitation of Dorothy's acidic looks. Dr. Arthav appears immune. "In the locker room."
"My locker?" she asks. She shrugs. "What about it."
Dr. Arthav sets down the marker he had been writing with. He studies her silently for a moment. "Perhaps it would be best if you sat out the rest of this week's lessons," he says finally.
Mariemaia clenches her fist around the strap of her bag. She plasters on a pleasant smile. "Thank you for your concern, but it has already been discussed with the Headmistress. I would hate to miss out on such important history."
Dr. Arthav's lips thin. "While I have no doubt you would benefit from exposure to outside beliefs, I can't help but feel it might have negative repercussions. The subject matter is sensitive for many of our students who experienced loss, and as your outburst last class demonstrated-"
She cuts him off with a laugh. "When you goaded me into responding so that you could brag to whoever it is you want to impress?" She attempts Dorothy's disdainful eyebrow raise again. "No, I much prefer to have people discuss me to my face instead of behind my back. Perhaps this sudden gesture of goodwill is your conscience trying to assert itself?"
"Miss Khushrenada-"
"Excuse me, Dr. Arthav, I would love to continue our discussion but I'm afraid I'll be late to language if I do. Have a lovely afternoon."
She doesn't wait to be dismissed, turning on her heel and strolling out of the classroom like she owns the place.
. . ... . .
A hand grabs hold of her arm after dismissal, while she's waiting at the front of the school for Henri. Mariemaia jerks in surprise, already twisting to swing at whoever's grasped her. Kenzie leaps back, hands up in front of her.
"Woah there, Khushrenada," she says. She raises her eyebrows. "I come in peace."
Mariemaia flushes and then narrows her eyes at the older girl. "I don't like being grabbed."
"Noted." She inclines her head to the edge of the crowd of students. Mariemaia hesitates before she follows her over to the quieter area. "Did you hear anything from Coach?" Kenzie questions.
Mariemaia can feel a few curious eyes on her, but most of the assembled students are distracted by friends or searching for their ride. She shrugs. "No." Kenzie frowns. "I didn't expect to."
"That's not right," Kenzie states. "Coach needs to step-up."
"It's fine."
"It's not," Kenzie insists. "What about your mom, couldn't she do anything?"
Mariemaia shifts, forces herself not to play with the strap on her bag. "My mother's dead."
Kenzie's face blanches beneath her freckles. "I didn't mean… I meant…"
"I know what you meant." She sees Henri's car pulling up and feels herself relax. "My ride is here."
She darts through the press of students and slides into the backseat of the car. Henri gives her a smile before pulling out of the school drive. "Did you have a good day, Miss Mariemaia?"
Mariemaia lets her head rest back against the seat. "Same as always, Henri," she replies.
"I thought I saw you speaking to another young lady. Have you made a new friend?"
Mariemaia rolls her eyes. "Just a teammate. We were talking about the upcoming meet."
Henri nods. He half-turns in his seat to look at her as they pause at a traffic light. "I wish I could see you compete this Friday. I am sure you will do excellent."
Mariemaia stares down at her shoes, notices the scuff on the toe of her left one. She'll have to polish it tonight. "Lady Une has another meeting?" she asks. If Henri won't be there then Lady Une must have a late meeting. She pushes down the feeling of disappointment.
"It was just added to the schedule. I'm sure she'd rather be watching you," Henri says. He glances at her again before putting the car in gear as the light changes. "I'll be looking forward to hearing how it goes."
Mariemaia shrugs and turns her attention to the passing scenery. "Thank you, Henri, but I'll probably just fall on my face."
"I highly doubt that, Miss Mariemaia."
. . ... . .
"I can't do it," Mariemaia announces as she enters the yoga room. Trowa looks up curiously. "I'm going to fail miserably."
"Ah," he states. "Come sit down."
She kicks her shoes off and crosses the worn floorboards, takes a seat on the mat and stares at Trowa. "I feel sick."
"You've had meets before," he comments.
"Yeah, but this is a big one," she replies. "And Coach has me doing the relay. I've never done the relay before. I'll be too slow off the block and I'll botch it for the whole team."
Trowa shakes his head. "You won't. Your coach wouldn't put you on it if he didn't trust you."
"I thought you said he was doing a terrible job," she mumbles. She folds herself into the lotus pose and takes a few deep breaths.
"Heero says you're doing better off the block."
"He does?" she asks, opening her eyes. Trowa nods, smiling a little. "He hasn't said that to me."
"He wouldn't," Trowa replies. "Come on, deep breaths. You'll be fine."
She takes another deep breath. "Where is he anyway? He's been hovering all week."
Trowa's mouth twitches like it's suppressing a smile or a laugh. "He's been detained. He's in a meeting with Wufei and they seem to have different opinions on a particular procedure."
Mariemaia doesn't bother to suppress her own smile. She's never witnessed one of Heero and Wufei's disagreements before, it seems they preferred to argue it out away from Preventers, but she's heard stories from Noin and Sally.
She takes another slow inhale. "Who do you think will win?"
Trowa considers her question. "No one," he says after a moment. "Now come on, stop trying to get out of yoga."
"I'm not-" His look silences her and she sighs loudly. She shifts until she's comfortable, then closes her eyes and begins to breathe deeply as instructed.
As the session progresses she feels her muscles gradually relax. She can practically feel the tension seeping from her shoulders and neck, her breathing steadying even as she fights to maintain the poses. Trowa has increased the time from five breaths to ten and she struggles at the eight-breath mark. He sticks with poses she already knows and she suspects it's so he doesn't have to demonstrate any new poses.
"You weren't injured at the circus," she states as she moves into the extended triangle.
"No," he agrees. "Focus now."
She waits until she transitions back to warrior pose to continue her questioning. "Were you robbed?"
He snorts at that, stifling what she's sure would be a laugh. She glares at him through loose strands of hair. "No," he states. "Breathe in one…two…"
She tries again as she moves to downward dog. "Did you annoy Wufei? He's always threatening the junior agents with his sword when they do something stupid."
"No," he replies. She can hear a tinge of amusement to his voice though. "Why are you so curious?"
She shrugs and almost topples forward. He catches her, lets her find her footing once more. "I thought Gundam pilots were invincible," she states. "So what changed?"
Trowa is quiet for a long time. She looks up at him and he's studying a spot on the floor. "We aren't," he says finally, quietly. "Lady Une asked me to go undercover," he adds, looking up at her. "They weren't as trusting as I'd hoped they'd be."
"What happened?"
"They're dead."
He watches her face carefully but she just shrugs, sitting back down on the mat. She's long since accepted that death is a part of life. Someone wins, someone loses; someone lives, someone dies.
"Will you come Friday?"
He stares at her, surprised. She thinks it's the first time she's surprised him and she smiles, savoring the feeling. "Do you want me to?"
She shrugs. "You might as well see if your boredom paid off." Trowa is still staring at her curiously as she lays down in corpse pose, closing her eyes. "Meditation, right?" she asks.
"Yes," he agrees.