Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed. Pairing(s): Tahno/Korra, Mako/Korra, one-sided Bolin/Korra
Genre: Romance/Friendship/Drama
Word Count: 3,293
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: The life and love of running, autumn, and high school cross-country. — Tahno/Korra, Mako/Korra. AU.

Author's Notes: 11/26/12.Ugh, sorry. FFNET messed up the formatting on the chapter and I had to go back through it and do it all by hand. D: It wasn't that big of a deal, but I was feeling super lazy. (And it's just a filler chapter this time, too! Sorry!) Also! My student teaching takeover week is NEXT WEEK, so I'm getting pretty stressed... wish me luck! There's going to be a lot of wine in the near future.

Musical Inspiration: "Dirty Little Secret" by The American Rejects. (Throooooowbaaaaaack.)

Beta'd by the ever-patient ebonyquill. Love you, Alison!

3.75

Whatever. You know you'd rather be talking to me.

Korra could hear the lockers being jerked open and slammed shut around her, but she didn't spare them a second glance. Instead of chemistry? She texted back. Um. Duh. Nobody actually likes thinking about bonds or bases or whatever.

"Korra!" Bolin came through the hallway, bursting through clusters of small crowds. "Ready for last period?"

Her head snapped up. "Oh! Bolin, hey," she said, hastily shoving her phone in her pocket and arranging her books for the rest of the day. "What are you doing all the way over here? I thought you had a class down in the arts wing."

"Oh, I do, but Thursdays are free-for-all days. We get assignments on Mondays, and then we use the rest of the week to take shots and develop them as needed until Friday." He lifted a bulky black bag from across his shoulder that Korra hadn't noticed before—his camera—and understanding slowly dawned.

"Ugh," Korra groaned. "Must be nice. I'm stuck taking all the stupid core classes."

"Have you ever taken intro classes for any of the subjects before?" he asked curiously, stepping into line beside her.

"Yeah, right. What would I have needed formal classes for?" Korra scoffed. "Biology? Please. For seventeen years, I ate, slept, and breathed biology. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to have to sit through even one block of Mr. Yakone's ecology unit? God," she muttered, kicking at the floor. "Do you know that he actually thought that polar bears live in the antarctic?"

"Well, I—"

"The man doesn't know up from down, let alone north from south. And forget about correcting him... Ugh, I've already learned my lesson," she grumbled. "I swear, now it's like he's out to get me or something."

"I don't really think that—"

"Sorry," she interrupted again. "We were talking about your photography class, weren't we?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Man, I do that all the time. Sorry, I'm really trying to—"

"Korra," Bolin cut in firmly, gripping her elbow to keep her from interrupting. He was laughing, but mostly to himself, and that helped to keep Korra's natural defensiveness at bay. "Isn't your class in the other direction?"

Korra blinked. "Crap. And the hallways are already starting to empty out! When the bell rings, I'm gonna be a sitting duck."

"At least you don't have Yakone next?"

"Uh, yeah, little good that does me when I have chemistry with Beifong!" she huffed, severely picking up her pace. "Bolin, I swear, I've gotten to know plenty of miners, but I've never met anyone more in love with minerals than that woman."

"You have Beifong?" Bolin lit up. "You should have told me! I had her last semester—her research on metal compounds is astounding! She made me see the metal elements in a whole new light! Did you know that the officers of the Chem Club made a video tribute to her? It was set to that club hit that came out last year, Titanium—"

"Bolin, faster walking, faster talking, please," she nearly hissed, almost jogging now. If she didn't get to class precisely on time, she was a dead, dead woman. "And in case you haven't heard, she's another one of the many, many teachers who seem to despise me for no apparent reason."

"What makes you think that she doesn't like you?"

"Too much," Korra scoffed, feeling a little breathless. She'd made good time, so she was sure that she was going to make it. Mostly. "I feel like I have to be on my toes every second, you know? Like she's just waiting for me to slip up."

"Dude, she's like that with everyone," Bolin smiled, and he didn't sound nearly as breathless as she did, Korra noted a bit enviously. "The other teachers are totally afraid of her, too."

"Uhh, do you blame them?"

"I'm just sayin'! I have no shame in admitting that I am horribly, deathly terrified of her, but you can't deny that she's brilliant! And I mean, if you ever run into any trouble with her, you could always just bring it up to Coach Tenzin."

Korra's sneakers came to a screeching halt. "Tenzin?" Korra demanded, feeling her palms begin to sweat. Mako! Her mind bellowed. That little rat! "Why would I want to talk to Tenzin about it?"

Bolin blinked. "Uhh, well... Because they have this weird, freaky teacher relationship thing going on? And Tenzin's one of the only people that she'll listen to on the staff? Even though I hear that there's like, some really juicy backstory or something—"

"Bolin, stop gossiping about our coach," she hissed, trying to act indignant and start walking again at the same time. She was really just relieved that Mako hadn't blabbed as she'd feared. And super curious, of course, about this new discovery regarding her uncle having some sort of dynamic going on with her most, ah... challenging teacher. Korra briefly wondered if this could be worked to her advantage. "Plus, the other teacher's classroom is—oh, I don't know, less than twenty feet away from us." Bolin merely laughed.

"All right, sorry," he said, though he barely looked like he meant it. "I have to run, anyway. I've gotta head out to the soccer fields while the light is still good. The leaves around there are gorgeous, but they're already starting to drop. Plus, it's supposed to rain later and it's already getting cloudy."

"But," Korra began, and her brows furrowed as they neared the open door to her chemistry classroom. Only the unluckiest or most apathetic of students were still lingering in the halls now. "The closest exit to the fields are all the way back on the other side of school, by my locker..."

Bolin merely grinned. "I know," he said, readjusting the strap on his shoulder, and Korra felt something in her stomach spin uncontrollably, plummet, and harden in the dreary pit. "I'll see you at practice, Korra."

She didn't realize that she was waving goodbye until he rounded the corner and she just happened to see her hand in front of her face, aimlessly moving back and forth. With a sudden jolt, Korra turned back toward the classroom door, ignoring the dull ache of guilt and confusion and crap, this isn't working, I need to talk to him soon when—

"Good afternoon, Korra."

It was a testament to her character that she did not flinch.

"Afternoon, Ms. Beifong," she managed, however strained.

The commanding presence was enough to make most students tremble with fear, and in a way, Korra truly lamented the loss of whatever potential they might have had to get off to a good start; Korra was the kind of woman who could appreciate this sort of brutal strength, but as a sable brow rose in deep disapproval, all tightness and rigid power, she knew that it just wasn't meant to be.

For a brief moment, Korra wondered if she was simply going to shut the door in her face.

"It's... Beifong," said the woman sternly; impatience emanated from every inch of her. Distantly, Korra could hear a piercing sound ringing in her ears; it was the bell. "We are so... honored that you could join us."

Don't say anything, don't say anything, just go to your seat, Korra, do not open your big mouth, do not do not do not not not not not not not—

She sat down in her seat with a poorly concealed sigh of relief, but the boy who tried to get in after her wasn't so lucky; he, unfortunately, did get the door slammed in his face.

"Now that we have all made the decision to get down to business," she began, arms crossed behind her rigid spine. "Put your books back away. Apparently, we need to do some work on the value of being prepared."

Crap.

"Pop. Quiz."

And as the class released a chorus of groans, Korra thought that, just maybe, she'd talk to Tenzin on the drive home, after all...

She'd been sitting for eighty minutes and yet, somehow, she was exhausted; Korra had always known deep in the heart of her soul that humans were not meant to sit still for so long.

And the clock was still ticking.

Beifong was the kind of teacher that taught all the way up to the last minute, the kind that would rail you if you even so much as shifted your books into a more orderly and portable fashion before dismissal, and today, just like any other Thursday, was no exception. Korra was trying to pay attention, but it was nearly impossible; not only was she totally and utterly done with this class—this day, this week—but for some reason, she was also really anxious to get out on the track. Bolin talked a lot about how people could get addicted to running—well and truly addicted—and while Korra wasn't exactly sure how she felt about running anymore, there was this undeniable itch she felt, this restlessness in her legs that made her especially jittery. This made today's chemistry class unusually troublesome because, like a predator smelling its prey's fear, students joked that Beifong could pick out a distracted student from three classrooms away; given Korra's nature of expertise, she wasn't so sure it was a joke.

So close...

"All right, fine," Beifong sighed loudly. "I've had enough of you lot. Pack up your things. You are dismissed—but mark my words, one day, one of you will learn something yet."

Korra was out the door before Beifong had even got to learn. And she didn't stop there.

She was down the hallway and around the corner in three minutes flat, which was almost half the time it took her to get there in the first place, so by the time the bell rang, she'd already beaten the worst of the crowds. But not all of them. "Come on," she mumbled under her breath, trying not to roll her eyes at a small group of freshmen taking up most of the hallway space. They were laughing about something or other, and shouting, and usually Korra would be interested in such things, but today she was in a hurry. Actually, once she took a closer look, it seemed like everyone was crowding around something in particular... something that was hung on the walls. A poster of some kind.

"Awesome," she muttered, and pushed through. A small freshman boy yelped as she drove past, but one pointed huntress look from Korra silenced him immediately. Yet by the time she reached her locker, she was already tired and frustrated. It was strange; her body still felt jumpy with need, like she'd been craving a run, but now that the prospect of practice was finally upon her... Well. It wasn't what she really wanted, was it? She all but tossed her books into the metal cage, and when it came time to select what to bring home for homework, she drew a total blank. Crap, Korra thought, rapping her knuckles against the open door. Crap.

She had to talk to Bolin.

Korra threw a hand up over the locker's top, curling her fingers around the metal door, and let herself hang, resting her forehead against the coolness of the cheap paint. It wasn't like she had loads of experience in turning boys down—especially friendly, friend boys who made her life a little less close to hell—and while she knew perfectly well what she could say, she wasn't sure what she should.

A nearby locker slammed shut and her head jerked upward; in no time at all, Korra realized that she was in the midst of a packed hallway, and was draping herself over an open locker door with her books a mess and her bag and her feet. Annoyed, she quickly straightened herself out before anyone could fully notice. Ugh. Ever the social butterfly, Korra. She was just zipping up her bag when her phone vibrated, and Korra's fingers froze against the flimsy plastic.

Speaking of.

Korra pulled herself to her full height and closed her locker, taking one final reconnaissance glance around her as she threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder, slowly made her way down the hall... and slipped out her phone.

Where she found three messages waiting for her.

The most recent: Seriously, have you gotten lost over there or what?

The previous: Somehow I hadn't pegged you as the kind of girl who actually pays attention in class.

Korra huffed, flipping open the keypad and wrote with forceful fingers: Yeah, well, maybe a White Falls senior doesn't need to, but this junior Fire Fox needs to pass at least some of her classes, okay? She snapped the phone shut and clutched the strap of her bag with irritated fists, but only made it two more steps before she snatched it back out into the open. Also, she typed. It'd be impossible to get lost in a place like this.

As she traveled down the rest of the hall, this time with her phone clutched in her fingers, Korra wondered at the nature of her sudden irritation. It was like someone had dug up all the channels beneath her skin and filled them with liquid electricity, sending shocks that rattled up and down her bones, and swept across her skin in uncomfortable waves. She craved a run with every fiber of her being, but she had to wonder, what with the way things were going now—was running really going to cut it?

Maybe she should have done a better job convincing Tenzin to let her take up boxing.

"Afternoon, Korra," Asami chirped as Korra entered the locker room. She hadn't been watching where she was going, having already grown accustomed to the steps leading toward the girls' side of the gym many weeks ago, and when she looked up at the sound of the familiar voice, she got an eyeful of Asami's perfect stomach and perfect chest, both made even lovelier by the deep red bra and the cascade of curls, come loose from its typical style. Korra forced herself to keep passing through, to start herself up again before Asami's shirt was pulled fully over her head and she got caught staring, but her "hello" sounded muffled even to her own ears.

Korra trudged her things back to the far corner of the locker room, the space she usually liked best, and threw her duffle bag onto the tiled floor. For a moment, she stood like that, arms crossed, brow furrowed, phone in hand, and mind in a million different places at once.

"Ridiculous," she muttered to herself, but it wasn't enough to make her feel any less worse.

In a weird way, Korra had always known she was hot.

But Asami was hot.

And despite whatever physical perfection Asami might have been gifted with, Korra didn't mean it in the way that many misogynistic assholes in the advertising industry who regularly objectified women as sexual toys would have; Asami was a naturally, genuinely beautiful kind of girl, with a lovely smile and an open heart and the kind of loyal toughness that could make Korra feel incredibly, incredibly selfish. It was Asami with whom she should have felt closest, but it was Asami with whom felt the least at ease; being around this girl over the last few weeks—on the track, in the cafeteria, among the trees—it made her realize just how much thinking she did about herself... and only herself.

And here she was, doing it again.

"Ugh," Korra groaned, dropping her head into her hands. A flash image of Mako spiraled through her mind and she thought: Had coming to high school really made her this shallow? Or had it always been this way? Maybe she'd just never been around people enough to notice.

Korra may not have had much experience in speaking to boys, but she certainly had plenty of experience in besting them, and she knew the kind of devastating effect that demolishing an opponent in a snowboard race could have on men her age—especially if the opponents were the men. Korra knew that she was the kind of girl that boys liked to rough around with, the kind that played practical jokes with them and did unladylike things in public, and she knew this with bone-deep intensity, with heartfelt confidence. It was her. She was Korra.

And Korra supposed that she was beautiful, but this was much harder to tell.

"Idiot," she mumbled under her breath, and tore off her shirt over her head in one full, jerky sweep of the arm. In some primal, petty display of will, she left her shirt off longer than necessary, even long after she'd dug up her sports bra from the bottom of the bag. She'd never questioned her physique before—athletic, muscular, strong—and had never even considered questioning her arms and legs as tools, so the very idea of being self-conscious or unsure of her body, of this machine, was ridiculous.

Enough of comparing Asami's body to hers. Enough of wondering where on her body Mako liked to kiss and whether or not his favorite color was red or where on his body those long red fingernails might have touched. Enough of thinking about friendly boys she wished she could just rough around with and of other just-friend boys she just wanted to roughen up.

Her cell phone buzzed on the wooden bench off to the side, and she sagged down against the cold metal lockers to read it. Don't kid yourself, new girl, the message read, and the bitter feel of it left something dark and hollow in the pit of her already twisted stomach. Nobody here knows where they are.

Korra sat alone in the back corner of the locker rooms, in nothing but her jeans and her baby blue bra, listening to the distant chatter of her team trickling in to get ready for the practice ahead, feeling the currents streak through her veins, and it occurred to her then that there was another kind of boy in her life now, too. That there was a friendless boy who wasn't really so rough, after all.

You want to run after practice? she typed, without thinking. She half-expected some jaded remark or some cagey, defiant jab about her foolishness, maybe even some offhand remark about her inferiority, but that wasn't how it happened.

Yeah, he said instead. Why not? Korra released the exhale she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and—

"Almost ready, Korra?" called a teammate from further down the aisle. She started, and nearly dropped the phone from her grasp, but she called back a hurried Yeah! and hastily went about tearing off her jeans. Most of the girls were already making their way toward the wrestling room, where they started their daily practices, but Korra had barely managed to get her shoelaces untied. There was a shakiness to her fingers now, and a rolling, undulating spread of energy creeping over the goosebumps along her skin. She wanted to go. She wanted to run. The phone buzzed again and—

Meet you at 7?

Yeah, she replied, and she felt like a crazy person—because hair was still only half-up and her shirt was only half-on and her breathing was out of control—but she didn't care. Why not?

And then, purely by accident, her finger hit the screen, and it was then that the messages scrolled upward. She'd forgotten about his original text.

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It depends on what kind of bases you're talking about.

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