Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.
Word Count: 7,412
Author's Notes: 6/7/13. Hello, everyone! Thank you for being so patient with me during my hiatus. And I come bearing good news: a few weeks ago, I actually beat my half-marathon personal record! ;)
Musical Inspiration: "Up in the Air" by 30 Seconds to Mars and "Get the Girl Back" by Hanson. (It popped up one day on Pandora and has been stuck in my head ever since.)
Beta'd by ebonyquill.
4.45
Eventually, Aunt Pema called her down for lunch.
She didn't come down immediately, but when she did, she took her cell phone with her.
Just in case.
"There you are," Pema smiled up at her as Korra dragged herself into the kitchen. "We were beginning to think you might not be hungry."
"Correction!" Meelo announced, standing tall and proud atop the pedestal of his wooden chair. "She was beginning to think that. I knew it to be impossible."
The next few minutes were a familiar blur of what Korra had come to accept as daily household shenanigans, mind-boggling and shocking and yet unsurprising all at once: without ever looking up from her book, Jinora immediately informed Korra that Meelo and Ikki had just been in the midst of creating a very strategic search party-rescue mission in her honor. Ikki went on to explain, in gross detail, all that it entailed, including the intricate map of the entire household, which was—as everything else they ever saw fit to produce—drawn entirely in crayon. It was all very thorough, and while Korra supposed she should feel very grateful and honored that they would go through such extensive lengths to retrieve her from her solitude—and she did, of course, as well as a little amused and a little loved and a little bewildered, too—the map also contained such an impressively accurate layout of her bedroom that Korra started to think that perhaps she had not been worrying quite enough about the importance of locking her door. Korra honestly tried her best to follow the rest of their plans but as usual got lost amidst all the talk of rainbows and clouds and bunnies. She swore there was something in there about a volcano, too, and the height of the afternoon's befuddlement came from the shocking realization that this last part had been courtesy of none other than Jinora.
"Um," Korra blinked down at the center of the kitchen table, the headquarters of her very own own rescue mission. "Thanks."
"For what?" Ikki asked, staring up at her with wide, wide eyes.
"For... planning to rescue me, I guess."
Meelo blew a raspberry. "Well, duh."
"Silly, Korra," Jinora rolled her eyes, though whether the gesture had been for her benefit or Meelo's spittle, she couldn't be sure. "You'd do the same for any of us."
Before Korra had a chance to respond, her uncle swooped in through the door with long strides, still in his running gear. It was in the brief moment that Korra was admiring how such an old guy could still look so solid and strong—and wondering what he must have looked like with hair—that rest of the kitchen looked up and noticed his arrival. It was as if a switch had suddenly been flipped: Jinora carefully marked her page and finally closed her book as Meelo and Ikki sat down in their seats, though they looked ready to burst with restless energy—they were practically shaking, but somehow managed to stay put—with their wide, shining eyes on their father. Pema's smile took on an even warmer glow.
"Just in time," Pema noted playfully, promptly shoving a stack of plates into his gut, right as he was leaning in for a kiss. Meelo chortled into his shirt collar while the girls shared knowing giggles, and when Tenzin finally greeted his wife properly, Korra was still mulling over the slightly disturbing notion that he probably had a solid set of abs—and that Pema probably didn't care all that much if that lunchware ended up damaged. "Ready? Set—"
And the whole room sprang into action, of course, because everyone knew that a single second's worth of hesitation could make all the difference between a full stomach... and a very happy Meelo.
"You didn't run this morning?" Korra asked, trying to work around the half-chewed chunk of chicken rolling around her mouth.
As soon as Tenzin finished sipping his water, he said, "I did. Sometimes... you just need a few extra miles to do the trick."
A month or so ago, Korra might have thought he was crazy, but today she merely shook her head in understanding. Pema nodded right along with her. "It's been a long weekend for all of us," her aunt added gravely, shifting around the plates so that she could better reach the ginormous salad bowl. Jinora stopped eating long enough to help her. "I'll be glad when it's finally over, though I imagine your practice tomorrow evening might be a little... challenging."
Korra stopped chewing, feeling the meat turn to mush in her mouth. Swallowing the piece whole, Korra slowly reached for her glass on the kitchen table and tried to gulp down the rest of her discomfort. All she could hear were the awkward sounds of other people eating around her.
"I imagine so," Tenzin agreed with a sigh, poking his fork into his floppy green vegetables. "This wouldn't be the first time we'd run into trouble with White Falls, but this situation is certainly... unique."
"Are you all right, Korra?" Pema asked suddenly, shocking Korra into nearly dropping her fork. Tenzin sent her a knowing sidelong glance, apologetic. "The chicken's not too tough?"
"No... no, it's great Aunt Pema," she assured her, feeling numb.
"Are you positive? I worry sometimes. It's been so long since I've actually cooked meat."
"No, I promise. It's great."
"All right, then. Just make sure you get some of the salad, too."
"I will."
Ikki helpfully passed the salad bowl along. Korra tried not to make a face. Carefully, she took hold of the utensils and loaded her plate with leafy green vegetables.
"So, any news, Tenzin?" her aunt asked curiously, as concern marred her brow. "I know the board has special procedures for these kinds of investigations, but this is such a high-profile meet. Do you really think they'll be able to find out what really happened for sure?"
Tenzin sighed, looking thoughtful and a little uncomfortable. "The board is doing all that they can. There are representatives from each of the schools, as well as a number of unbiased third-parties. I can't imagine that it will be quick work, but the board was created for these very issues. They will come to a conclusion that is fair."
Korra bit her tongue, but only just barely. Fairly awful, you mean. If she wasn't very hungry before, she sure wasn't hungry now. She placed her fork down on her plate and settled for sipping her water instead.
"It's such a shame," Pema sighed, looking at her meal. "The lengths people will go to win. What pressure those boys must have felt, to have gone so far."
Korra's frown deepened. That didn't sound like her Aunt Pema at all. She shook her head, feeling restless. There's no need to be defensive. Aunt Pema was just making a general statement—it's not like she called Tahno out or anything.
"What do you think happened, Mom?" Jinora asked curiously, leaning farther over the table.
"Me? Oh, I don't know," Pema sighed, shaking her head in thought. "With spikes like those, there had to be foul play. Unfortunately. I just can't imagine who would do such a thing—and for a high school meet, no less!"
Tenzin sighed again. Korra couldn't help but notice how tired he looked. "It's the nature of the sport, I suppose," he shared wistfully. "Deep and alone in the woods, runners can let the race take over their good sense. If they let it."
"Isn't it obvious? It was those stupid Northside brothers!"
"Put the knife down, Meelo. And we don't know that for sure," Pema chastised. "Though, they did seem a bit..."
"Sinister?" Jinora offered uncomfortably.
"Older," Pema gently substituted, making an obvious effort to set a good example for her children. It seemed to be growing more difficult as the conversation progressed. "Tenzin, surely they'll be included in the investigation, too?"
Korra had immediately sat up, ears perked. Wait a minute, she thought, inhaling a sharp breath. She only barely registered that her aunt was still fighting her son on the proper usage of his lunch ware. Oh my god... Of course! she exclaimed miserably, as her insides twisted violently with realization. There was that standoff before the race—Asami said that the boys had some kind of argument or something! And Noatok was right there at the front, where it all happened! Who else could it have been? No one! She'd been so focused on Tahno's plight and ruined future that she hadn't even given any thought to who had caused it in the first place! What the hell was I thinking?
She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be disappointed in herself for foolishly, privately clinging onto the hope that it had somehow been an accident, confused that she hadn't immediately beat up any and every suspect the instant this whole disaster came to pass, or... surprised that her first instinct this time around wasn't to act on a gut reaction. Was this a sign that she was growing up? Or that I'm just as young and as stupid as ever? She felt her fingers clench under the table.
Whichever it was, at this moment it wasn't what mattered most; Korra had a hunch—she knew with bone-deep intuition—that the brothers from Amon Prep were to blame.
Now if only she had proof.
"That, of course, will make it a more... delicate conversation," Tenzin's eyes narrowed imperceptibly, finishing a comment that Korra hadn't quite caught. Whatever—there's so much I have to talk to him about, anyway! she thought testily, stabbing a green bean with determination. I'll just ask him to repeat it later, once I've figured all this crap out.
"I can only imagine... And I do hope Mako will be fit to attend practice tomorrow," Pema opined, turning to look at Korra meaningfully. "I'm sure he could use the support of his friends."
Korra's stomach turned to lead.
"Have you spoken with him at all, Korra?" asked her aunt.
Suddenly, it felt as if the entire table had focused their eyes on her. Tenzin, in particular, was watching her very closely. She managed a slight shake of the head and a shrug.
"Knowing Mako, he probably appreciates the space," said her uncle, perhaps trying to subtly soothe away Korra's concerns. The problem, of course, was that Korra wasn't concerned. Or, at least, she hadn't been—until he'd brought up any potential reason to be. She couldn't seem to hold back her deepening frown, and he noticed.
"Boy trouble?" Pema asked lightly, in her perceptive, motherly way. Korra, of course, was blindsided.
"Oh, Mama, you don't even know the half of it."
"What?" Korra rounded on Ikki, who was sitting directly to her right. Audibly, Tenzin sighed.
"Well, she doesn't!" Ikki eagerly pointed out.
"What don't I know?" Pema asked curiously. "Come on, now!" she said with a soft smile, bright and understanding. Apparently, this topic was much cheerier than discussing certain high school athletes' uncertain fates. "We'll work it out together!"
Korra still felt like she might hyperventilate, and was staring hard at Ikki. "How do—how do you know?"
"Uhh, isn't it obvious?" Ikki asked, looking to Meelo and Jinora, who both nodded.
"Isn't what obvious?" she asked, dangerously.
"I mean, you've got a total mess! See, mom—look: Korra used to like Mako because she was new in town and he was dreamy, but Bolin—his younger brother—liked Korra, too, because she was new in town and he thinks she's dreamy, except Korra didn't like Bolin more than a friend because she liked Mako, who still has a girlfriend, who is super dreamy and pretty and sparkles like sunshine and also is now Korra's friend."
"Oh, my," Pema breathed.
Korra's mind—!— briefly registered that it was blank. She'd never felt like she might actually pass out before—well, maybe once, when she and her father had encountered a spectacled bear when she was five-years-old—from excitement, not fear!—
But there was more.
"This, of course, means that Korra can't like dreamy Mako anymore because that's just obviously not allowed—and between you and me, I think she really does still like him but not as much as before—but that's also all okay because Korra is actually secretly crushing on this other guy with the shiny, flippy hair who wears lots of silver and black like a dark knight—"
"Ikki!" Korra barged in, unable to take it any longer. "What the fu—"
"Language, Korra!"
"Sorry, Aunt Pema—but—!"
"And surely you don't mean Tahno?"
"Well, duhh, Mama! Who else would it be?"
Pema looked expectantly at Korra, then to an unfazed Tenzin, then back at Korra. She was understandably very surprised. "I didn't even know you were friends!"
"Hey!" Korra exclaimed, feeling her cheeks darken with embarrassment. "Neither did I, okay!"
"And now the problem is that Korra is trying to decide between the dreamy red knight and the black knight with flippy hair, but Korra is upset because dark-knight flippy-hair was wounded in battle—"
"I thought Mako was the one wounded?" Pema whispered to Jinora.
"The story has taken on greater metaphorical significance."
"Oh," Pema nodded agreeably, then sent another sidelong glance toward Korra, which may or may not have resembled a grimace. Korra wanted to die. Tenzin looked ready to drown in his salad.
"And now the black flippy-hair knight is forbidden from participating in tournaments to win the fair Korra's hand—"
"All right, modern day, please!" Meelo demanded.
"—and he isn't responding to her texts after the big race-battle this weekend between the two kingdoms because they also got into a fight before the big race and now Mako wants to be with Korra and Korra wants to be with flippy-hair boy but we don't know what flippy-hair guy is thinking because he's not responding to—"
"Ikki!" Korra hissed, lunging forward. Her skin seemed confused, like it wasn't sure whether it should turn pale with horror or crimson with embarrassment. "That's enough! How the hell do you know all that?"
"I pay attention."
"To what? A frickin' tracking device?"
"Is that like a GPS?" Meelo asked, glancing up from a pad of paper that had seemingly appeared out of thin air. To her horror, Meelo was jotting down notes in crayon.
"Guys, seriously—this is so creepy. Where did you find out all of—"
Her smallest cousin looked up, writing utensil held aloft, and very seriously asked, "My dear cousin, as the liaison between your love life and our guardians, I must ask you: what are his intentions?"
"Meelo, do you even know how to spell intentions?" she demanded, eyeing the orange crayon lodged between his knuckles. Meelo gave her a look.
"Does he?"
"That's it, you knuckle-headed, crayon-slinging cretin—"
"Ahh! Mom! Help!"
"I still can't believe it," Pema nodded to herself thoughtfully, as chaos bloomed around her. Jinora was unsuccessfully trying to mediate what was quickly becoming a Crayola fencing match on the other side of the kitchen. "Tahno?"
"Yes, Mama," Ikki confirmed brightly, as Pema came to terms with this new development. "Tahno of the White Falls Wolfbats—"
"Wolverines!" Korra hissed, swiping ocean blue over the counter—just as Meelo switched directions at the last possible moment. Damn, he's fast!
Ikki blinked from her seat at the table. "Are you sure?"
"Arrghh! You are one lucky duck that you're not weighed down by the last biscuit because—I swear to god, Meelo—if you were just the tiniest bit heavier right now—"
"All right, all right, leave poor Korra alone," Pema called from the table, eventually—eventually—settling everyone down.
"I am never leaving my door unlocked again," Korra quietly vowed, when she finally collapsed back into her seat.
And if that weren't enough to continue her streak of incredible mortification, it was at that moment that she realized that Tenzin was still there, casually eating his vegetables. With barely a glance to her deadpan expression, Tenzin raised his glass of water—Cheers!—and said, "Welcome to the family," and chugged it all down.
Apparently, as she later found out from Pema, he hadn't left their bedroom door unlocked in over a decade.
She tried not to think too hard about that.
"Tenzin," Korra said sometime later, when everyone else had left the kitchen. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" She imagined that he'd had to have known something was up—it wasn't like her to volunteer for helping with the dishes.
"Normally, I would have no problem," he apologized, drying his hands with a dish rag hanging off the handle of the fridge. "But unfortunately, I've got an urgent meeting with the Athletic Board this evening, and there's still much to prepare."
"Well... that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," she admitted sheepishly. Tenzin examined her carefully.
"Yes. I had a feeling," he said.
For a moment, Korra felt like nothing more than a small child. How could he still do that? She was almost eighteen! She opened her mouth, but he beat her to the punch.
"I know you're concerned. You have important people on both sides of the equation," he said understandingly, placing a fatherly hand over her shoulder. "But this is a matter of utmost confidence until a conclusion has been reached. I can't share this knowledge until it's made ready for public consumption."
Korra frowned, shrugging off his hand. "What's the point of having an uncle on the fancy board if he won't tell you anything when something goes down?"
"This isn't your typical case of 'something', Korra."
She huffed and ducked her head, forcing her anger to the surface, and burying her disappointment deep down. She crossed her arms and muttered, "You're telling me."
His sigh only made her feel more tired, too. "Look, if there's something I can share, then obviously, I'll—"
"It's fine," Korra nodded, not looking up. A brief moment of silence passed, and Korra suddenly felt bad for her selfish behavior. She should know better; Tenzin—for all his loopy philosophies about mental and spiritual freedom—was a man of discipline and structure. It wasn't right to ask this of him. "I mean... I know," she looked up, torn between coming with an outright apology and feigning ignorance. She settled for the middle road. "Thanks," she told him.
He gave her and indescribable look, though it seemed understanding enough. That's one of the good things about him, I guess, Korra reflected. He's so damn observant that half the time I think he already knows what's going on before anyone else does.
"Korra," he said, very seriously. "I want you to try to lay low this week. There's not much that can be done while the investigation is in progress and, well... I want you to try not to worry about it too much, for the time being."
Okay. So maybe it's one of the less awesome things about him, too.
"I'm not giving up," Korra said immediately, spine stiffening. "Tenzin, I know Tahno didn't do it."
"I'm not asking you to," he said calmly, trying to reassure her. She knew that her panic had been a bit of an overreaction, even as subdued as it was, but she couldn't help but feel antsy now that the Northside Brothers were on her mind. "I've already privately discussed the issues at hand with a number of the board members, and with the meetings set for the coming week, I am sure we will all reach a decision soon. And once I am given clearance, I will ensure that you will be among the first to know."
Korra bit her lip, pondering this. Hesitantly, she looked up. "Really?" she whispered. Tenzin nodded.
"Yes," he promised her. "But this must be left to the board. There is no point making yourself sick over the uncertain."
"So, what you're saying is... we need to be patient," Korra sighed. Or, more specifically—that she needed to be patient. Was that even possible? Hell. Apparently, I can go a few days without punching anyone in the face, even when I have a perfectly good reason to. Not that she'd realized it until now. Maybe this patience thing won't be much more difficult?
Yeah. Right.
His hand found its way back onto her shoulder and this time, she didn't push him away. He smiled at her and, somehow, she ended up feeling a like a little kid all over again. She smiled back, just a little.
"You're learning well."
And then, just like that, it was time for him to leave. Tenzin packed up his things and changed his clothes and headed out the door, making his way to the meeting that would surely set about the pieces that would determine the rest of the season. Korra watched his car pull from the driveway with a resigned sort of emptiness, and for a few minutes she stood there at her bedroom window, wondering when he might be back.
Slowly, she turned her gaze to the cell phone resting on her nightstand, sitting silently in the rays of dusk.
And silent, it stayed.
All the way until dawn.
From: Cap'n A!
Hey! Need a ride to school?
Received: Monday, Oct 15 7:02am
From: Cap'n A!
I'm fresh out of Biscottis, unfortunately... but I DO have some dirt that might interest you.
Received: Monday, Oct 15 7:02am
From: Mako
Hey. Do you want a ride this morning? I need to talk to you about some stuff.
Received: Monday, Oct 15 7:04am
Korra was beaming as she threw herself into the passenger seat.
"Good morning," she smirked, throwing her bag to onto the floor mat at her feet. She was dripping from the early morning rain, but even that didn't seem to dampen her heightened spirits. She pulled down her dark blue hood, trying not to shake too much water onto Asami's upholstery while the other girl kicked up the heat.
"Likewise," Asami smiled mischievously, turning a few knobs on the dashboard. The radio was still playing, but so low that every so often the swipe of the windshield wipers would make it almost impossible to tell. Asami shifted into gear and pulled out of the driveway as Korra buckled herself in.
"All right, so spill," she commanded brightly, twisting in her seat to get a better view of the driver. "What's the dirt? And where did you hear it from? Does it have anything to do with the Amon brothers? Or the Wolverines? Or the—"
"Hold on! You go first. I'm not sharing anything with you until I'm fully up-to-date on your weekend. So, did you call him?"
Naturally, Korra's optimism faltered. "You totally tricked me into coming with you, didn't you?" Korra accused, her pout grim with realization. Asami winked.
"When else would I get the chance to talk to you? At practice? Please," she laughed. "You fill me in on your progress, and then I'll tell you what I've found out."
"That is so not fair."
"Yeah, well the cost of knowledge is high."
"I'd really rather just pay you gas money."
Asami outright laughed. "Trust me," she said, a tad bitterly. "The last thing I need is more money."
Korra sighed, deciding that it was probably just going to be easier to tell Asami now. She really could use her help, after all. "Okay," she said, slinking farther down into the seat. It was warm and calm in the car, and as they pulled onto a busier street, Korra listened to the gentle hum of the smooth-sounding engine. "First of all, I talked to Bolin."
"And? How did it go?"
She shrugged, struggling to find the right words to describe what had happened between them. "It was... good," she decided. "I think we understand each other a lot better now. His hard feelings are mostly gone, I think. I apologized a lot, and we talked about a whole bunch of stuff for a while... We're really better off as friends."
"And he agrees with you?" she asked curiously.
For just a moment, Korra was hit with a wave of mind-numbing doubt. "Maybe not yet," Korra relented, pushing her uncertainty back where it belonged. "But he knows how I feel about him, and he knows that it's not gonna change, no matter how sorry I am... especially since I also might have told him about. You know."
"About?"
Korra resisted the urge to yank her hood back up over her head. "About Tahno," she muttered.
"Aha!" Asami cried out. Has she always been this excitable? "Really? Bolin knows, too?"
"Yes," she confirmed, somewhat regretfully.
"Ah! Perfect!" she exclaimed. "Another ally!"
One brow slid higher. "Asami, this isn't a war," she tried to point out.
"You're kidding me, right? Every forbidden love affair creates a war, Korra."
"Forbidden—? Dude, you're starting to sound like my cousins."
"You mean the tea drinker?"
"No—well, I mean, these cousins drink tea, too—but no. Only one of them is even into double-digits, and only just barely—and your bombastic flair is starting to resemble theirs."
"Ugh, cut me some slack, please," Asami scoffed, albeit good-naturedly. "It's not everyday that one of our own starts up a weekly trysting schedule with the most popular asshole-captain of the most well-hated team in our town's history of all-consuming rivalries."
"Try—trysting? Asami, no. Asami, that is so not—"
"Calm down!" she laughed. "I was only teasing. I know it wasn't exactly like that."
Korra leaned back into the seat, calming her raging heart. When she could hear the indistinct voices of the radio again, instead of just her rising alarm, she was struck with a very familiar fear. "Yeah, well," she muttered, just barely loud enough for Asami to understand. "I'm not even sure I understand what it was, exactly."
Asami frowned. "Don't you mean... what it is?" she asked carefully, peeking at her teammate in between windshield swipes. "Did something happen?"
"No," she sighed. "Nothing's changed."
"You didn't call him?"
Korra paused. "He didn't pick up," she said quietly.
Asami took a moment to digest this, and Korra passed the time by watching the raindrops dance along the glass. It was cold and bitter outside, and she dreaded the moment that she would have to leave Asami's car. "So, you're gonna try again, right?" her captain asked, shooting another glance her way. "Maybe he was just... preoccupied. He's gotta have a lot going on."
"Maybe," Korra nodded, not really sure what to believe. The truth was, she had no idea what he was doing. Or thinking. Or feeling. Or anything. It's not like I've ever really known any of that stuff, anyway, she thought with a frown. But at least I knew that there was still a chance that I might see him. "Asami? What do you think it will be like?" Korra asked. "At practice."
"Well, wait a minute—does this mean you're not gonna try again?" Asami asked, disapproval ringing loud and clear.
"No," Korra responded, a bit impatiently. "I'm not giving up on anything—I just..." Don't know what to say. "I just don't know if it's even really my place at this point. I can't help but feel like I'm... intruding. Does that make sense?"
A sigh sounded from Korra's left. "Yeah," she softly replied. "It does. I just really hope you give it one more try, okay? And who knows? Maybe he'll call you instead."
She tried to stamp down the seed of hope that had burst in her chest.
"And as for practice, well... I'm not gonna lie," Asami puffed out her cheeks, and blew out the air in one giant breath, long and hard. "It's probably going to be super awkward."
"Awkward?" she frowned.
"Mako doesn't forgive very easily, and we're not exactly known for being the most pardoning bunch... I'm sure he's gonna have a few choice words for us about our White Falls counterparts."
"But you're his co-captain," Korra reminded her. "You'll be able to reel him in, right? To help keep things under control?"
"Normally... yes," Asami said grudgingly, revealing the first visible signs of nerves. Which, of course, is a terrible sign—especially where Asami's concerned. "Mako and I are usually pretty intuitive about that kind of stuff. But like I said—he and I haven't really been the star couple lately, and this... this is very different."
A spike of memory shot into Korra's brain, and she recalled the text message she'd received from him that morning, just moments after Asami's, as well as the hastily-written text she'd sent back in reply. I should tell her, Korra thought, glancing meaningfully at Asami. I should tell her about Mako. The race is over—I shouldn't keep this any longer. After all, she decided glumly. Now seems just as good a time to lose a friend as any.
"Well, I think you've just about earned your dirt," Asami offered smoothly, snapping Korra back to the original hopes she'd had when she'd first entered the car. I should tell her, Korra thought.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Well, I don't know if you knew this or not, but my dad is actually one of the Athletic Board members involved in the investigation."
"What?" Korra demanded, flabbergasted. "You're serious!"
"What, you mean a big, overprotective dad wanting to invest a little extra time and money into his only daughter's lifestyle is hard to believe?" she rolled her eyes, but Korra got the feeling that the gesture wasn't really intended for her. "Sponsoring our team, paying for new uniforms... it's just one of his many hobbies—strategically orchestrating his side-business ventures to match my personal interests. Y'know. Just like other overbearing, multimillionaire, post-divorce dads."
"So?" Korra demanded, practically twisting herself into a knot in her seatbelt in an effort to face Asami more directly. "Did he tell you anything?"
"Uhh, duh," Asami laughed. "What's the point of having a rich and influential father on the board if he's not gonna spill?"
Don't even get me started. "Just say it!"
"Well, first of all... there's a good chance that this whole fiasco is actually a lot fishier than it seems."
"What?" Korra immediately sat up, noticing with rising alarm that they were nearing the exit that would lead them to the school. "Why?"
"Okay, listen to this: so you know that all the teams present for the White Falls' invitational are going to be included in the investigation, right?"
"Right," she slowly echoed, listening intently.
"Well, did you also know that one team in particular is suspiciously silent on the whole matter? A certain Northern team with two certain brothers?"
"God, I am so fucking done with these Amon assholes," Korra suddenly spit, pounding a fist into her seat. "I just know it was them! But wait a minute—silent how? What would that have to do with anything? Don't these teams already know the protocol for this sort of thing? Why would they be kicking up a fuss?"
"Well, obviously, this process is going to be really time-consuming," Asami sighed, switching lanes. "The number of testimonies they're going to have to collect is probably pretty overwhelming, for everyone. Most coaches who aren't really involved in the rivalry are understandably upset that their precious training time is going to be forfeited... Yet Amon Prep has been glaringly compliant. This is all just speculation, of course," Asami hastily added. "My dad's an engineer, and paying disgustingly close attention to detail is like, his thing."
"Is this... behavior, or whatever, not really common for Amon?"
"Ah, I don't know," Asami sighed, again. "Coming from my dad, at least, it means something. It definitely caught his attention. I mean, he was obsessed with Amon for ages—the man was practically in love with it," she scoffed. "He even tried to have me sent there. I almost went."
"But it's so far!" Korra exclaimed in surprise. "And... intense."
"Who knows," Asami huffed dismissively, though Korra could tell that it still really bothered her. "For some reason, my dad thought it would be the best choice for me."
"How'd you convince him not to make the switch?"
"Oh, easy," Asami laughed again, this time with real amusement. "A fun, three-letter savior called mom. I tried to reason with him, then outright refused to go, but he still pushed. And then she knocked some sense into him, right quick. Anyway, my dad says that the whole school has been super cooperative since the whole ordeal, which should be a commendable thing. Unless..."
"Unless?" Korra demanded. "Unless what?"
"Unless they're trying to hide something."
"But how would they—?"
"There's more," Asami continued darkly, gripping the steering wheel tight. She slowed to a stop at the bottom of the ramp, where a red light glared from overhead. "Korra, I want you to guess who else is a member of the Athletic Board."
Korra was at a loss. "Who?"
Asami turned to her teammate, and looked her straight in the eye. "Yakone."
"My—my biology teacher?" Korra sputtered, gripping the seat handles tight. Vaguely, it occurred to her that the light had turned green, and that they were moving. "Yakone? As in—the Northside Brother's—"
"Father," Asami nodded curtly, expression turning stern. "Supposedly, anyway. It's all just one giant cloud of suspicion, if you ask me. Two top frontrunners of rival teams end up disqualified from the biggest meet of the season, and the up-and-coming newcomers with a mysterious backstory wind up taking home the medals."
"Temporarily," Korra ground out.
"And then... when it comes time to look into the mess, the winning school—who should be preparing for Regionals, who supposedly had nothing to do with any of this—is going to have to send its best in for questioning, and they are somehow okay with this? Add in the fact that the first and second placers' father just happens to be a member of the board, and just happens to work for his sons' rival team? I mean—how much more convenient of a set-up can you get? Provided, of course, that he really is their father," Asami sighed, making a hard left.. "We honestly know nothing about any of them."
"But what—so what does that mean for us?" Korra asked, clutching the fabric covering her seat. She could see the high school just a little ways down the road. For Tahno?
"For right now?" Asami asked, brows raised high. "It doesn't mean a whole lot of anything. Yakone has hardly spoken up at all."
Yet, her mind spat.
"But you said—!"
"As I said, it's all speculation," Asami reminded her seriously, not entirely unlike the way Tenzin might have. Korra could feel herself rapidly deflating under the weight of reality... until her team captain slowly revealed a dazzling smile. "However... according to my dad—it does mean something. We just have to leave it to your uncle and my dad, and the other board members to sort through the mess. For now, all we can do is wait."
Aw, dammit! Korra spat, laughing miserably—hysterically—under her breath. She really fucking is Tenzin!
"What's so funny?" Asami asked, alarmed.
"I was just thinking," Korra said, still feeling a little delirious. "That I really ought to invite you over dinner sometime. I think you and my family would get along great."
"Are you sure you're okay? You look a little insane."
"I am a little insane. I don't know what the hell is going on," Korra sighed, picking her bag up from the floor mat. As much as she'd enjoyed the dry warmth of the car, the rain and the cold didn't actually really bother her. It was what laid beyond those domineering doors of educational treasure that made her firsts clench.
"Do you have Biology today?" Asami asked, shutting the car door with a soft thud. Her raincoat was stylish and chic, a lovely shade of deep maroon that complemented her skin and was all the more pleasing to the eye under the contrast of her wide, black umbrella. Korra jerked her navy blue cotton hood over her head, and tried not to feel self-conscious as they made their way toward the school. Or wet. Ugh. I thought I was over this.
"Third period," she grumbled. "I don't know how I'm supposed to sit there and listen to him yammer on about the antarctic when I know that he's a lying, scheming slime ball who raised cheater, saboteur sons."
"You don't know that," Asami hushed her, glancing about the mostly empty parking lot. Plenty of cars were there, but many of their owners were already inside. "At least—not yet."
"Arggh!" Korra groaned, kicking at a pebble on the pavement. "This is so freakin' hard! How the hell am I supposed to just wait for a bunch of old, entitled adults to diplomatically discuss their way around this shit-show?"
"How would you suggest they solve it?" Asami asked, amused. Korra paused.
"I'm not really the expert on solving problems," she admitted sheepishly. "I'm usually one to create them."
Asami laughed, in spite of herself. "Well, how did you normally solve your problems? Back in South America?"
"Um," Korra frowned. "Usually by kicking a lot of ass. And then getting in heaps of trouble for it."
"Kicking ass literally or figuratively?"
She winced. "Sometimes both."
"I see," Asami smiled, holding the door open wide for the two of them. "As I said: boxing."
Ah.
Which reminded her...
Korra waited until they'd said their goodbyes—good lucks—and gone their separate ways—Asami to her locker, and she to hers—before she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, and reread her most recent messages.
From: Mako
Hey. Do you want a ride this morning? I need to talk to you about some stuff.
Received: Monday, Oct 15 7:04am
To: Mako
Thanks, but I've already got one. I'll meet you in the library during study hall.
Sent: Monday, Oct 15 7:07am
To: Mako
Is everything okay?
Sent: Monday, Oct 15 7:12am
From: Mako
It'll just be easier to talk about it when I see you. In study hall, then.
Received: Monday, Oct 15 7:15am
"Awesome," Korra muttered, slamming her locker door shut.
Dragging her feet down the hall, Korra headed off to class, trying very hard not to sulk. For the first time in many days, her silent phone was, well... silenced. It was funny, really; turning off her ringtone implied a sense of blind optimism in that she actually anticipated a message, and was thus preemptively ensuring her absence from any of the upcoming detention sessions. (Detention: a three-syllable word that spelled extension for a girl currently locked down in a rather creative detainment prison of her own. We told you so, the White Lotus would say, as her parents spoke of disappointment and—in her Great Uncle Zuko's words—dishonor. But whatever, Korra thought angrily, growing resentful all over again. Great Aunt Katara got loads of detentions in school. She was always getting in trouble for all sorts of stuff—and Uncle Sokka, too. It wouldn't hurt just to have it on vibrate, would it? And if I get caught, I mean—one measly little detention isn't gonna kill anybody, right? She then tried to imagine having to explain to Tenzin why she'd be forced to miss practice one afternoon, and gulped.) Yet, truthfully, the likelihood of receiving any messages during her first period class was less than promising. Nothing more than wishful thinking and false hopes and all that depressing jazz.
Shut up, Korra mentally spat, pushing past a rather wide-eyed freshman, who was only too happy to dive out of the way of the darkening aura slowly storming down the hall. One hand was shoved deep into the pocket of her dampened hoodie, while the other arm clutched her books tightly against her side. As she bit her cheek and walked, her shoulders sagged with resignation. It's only Monday morning, she reminded herself. It's still really early... He could... Later today, maybe?
But her inner-voice sounded almost a little too pessimistic, even for her.
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Just as she was wondering if she had enough time to pay a visit to Bolin at his locker, the warning bell rang.
And it was just at that moment, as the shrill ringing screamed into her brain, that Mako appeared.
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"Hey," Korra greeted automatically, blinking in surprise. While he approached, she noticed that his whole demeanor was stiff. Mako looked just as rough as she probably did. "Where you headed?" she asked, feeling unlucky.
"I need to talk to you," he said, voice quiet, eyes sober.
"Uh... sure," Korra slowly nodded, looking up into his very grave expression. She fought hard not to swallow and said, "We have lunch in just a few periods, and then study hall right after."
He was very obviously perturbed. "No," he shook his head, sneaking a quick glance to the crowds of people dispersing through the hallway, before boring his burning eyes back into hers. "It can't wait that long."
"What?" Korra breathed, a knee-jerk reaction to examples of insanity. "You mean you can't wait that long?" she snapped. "You had the whole weekend, man. Why didn't you text me about this earlier?"
"I thought it could wait," he explained, brows furrowing.
Korra's shock splattered across her face immediately, but after a moment, she thought better of it and caught herself. Most people seemed far too absorbed in their own little worlds to notice them—ah, right... Homecoming Week. Fuck my life—but still. She schooled her expression with some measure of difficulty, pressed her lips into a grim line, and then hissed, much more quietly: "Well, it can wait until after my first period class, at least. I have English with Mr. Shinobi and he is not above announcing when the latecomers arrive to class."
"I wouldn't ask unless it were important," he insisted, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"Um, as often as I might normally agree with you in that there are far more important things to be done rather than study grammar, now is not one of those times," she told him firmly. "Find me in the library during study hall, or even text me during class if you need to, but I am on my way to English, Mako, so if you'll just—"
"Korra," he whispered and, against all of her better judgment, she halted. Almost unwillingly, Korra tilted her head, looked at him—tall, strong, and desperate—and wilted.
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"Please," he said.
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She had an awful feeling that she was going to regret this.
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End Note: Please review! :)