The fall breeze prickles Elsa's skin. She stands motionless on the track like a marble statue of a Celtic Goddess, ignoring the other competitors stretching and doing their warmups. Eyes aloft to the clouds drifting across the clear cerulean skies.
"Your head's in the clouds again."
Maui's words waft past her ears. He adjusts to blot out her view, before repeating himself.
"What?"
"Take this seriously," Maui insists, hands on his hips, "It's just the Semis but I'm going to have a lot of explaining to your father if you get dropped on the last lap or-"
"Fine," Elsa retorts, marching to the start line when her name is called. She shakes off the mention of "your father" from her head like an ugly, unhealable scar. Instead, Elsa distracts herself by looking at a fresh bruise on her shin. Prominent against the morning sun. Another few have sprouted on her calves over the last few nights. A grin appears as she imagines, I gotta put a duvet up there sometime.
The other girls stare Elsa down to no heed. Lost in her thoughts, she nearly misses the gunshot crackling through the air. Her mind's still somewhere in the clouds as she settles into the lead pack, blonde braid fluttering behind. She holds her position, lap after lap. Mind preoccupied with the multitude of directions her fic should take. Agnarr's despondent scowl when he left for the airport. Her mother's listless sighs. AP Calculus homework.
Her lungs start heaving by the time the lap bell slices through the crowd's cheering. She turns up the gas. Easily outstriding her competitors as they scramble into a mad kick. But their efforts fall short. Elsa cranes her head forward, not even looking back when the finish line flies past her shoes. There's still gas in her tank. Evaporating in a flash of heat when she sees Maui flirting with one of the mothers, clipboard and stopwatch strewn on the bench.
The burning adrenaline catches up. She keels over. Wispy, wheezy breaths leaving her throat. Unfamiliar faces give her fist bumps as the announcer's voice echoes around the track.
"Girl's 5000m State Semi-finals, First place: Elsa Williams. West Ashley High School-"
Don't look. Don't look. Don't bother fucking looking up.
Her heart stings. She looks up anyway. Searching for even one familiar face in the sparse scattering of spectators in the bleachers. No one. Can't blame them, can you? Dad's in New York for work. Mom's in Boston for…work. It'd be better if they don't show up, rather than make an appearance and pester Maui about your chances at a scholarship. Still, why did you look up? Her chest tightens. Blue eyes sweep through the bleachers again. A boiling pain throbs behind her cheeks despite the cool breeze.
She feels Maui's shadow approaching. His voice lightens.
"Great job! We're in the finals-"
Those stifling fingers clench around her throat again. But this time, she spits it out onto the track; flashing a glare at him and marching off to the showers.
Elsa can't get away from the track venue fast enough. She's wrapped snug in sweatpants and a hoodie and her car heater's cranked up. But a chill still pierces her to the bone. Probably from two messages on her phone.
Dad: Did you get into the finals? Make sure you stay focused. I'll be back soon.
Mom: How'd you go at semis? Don't forget about the counsellor.
She frowns. With a couple of flicks, Elsa leaves them on read. Right before their shadow creeps upon her head, and she mashes a message back with a sigh.
I won. Going to study now.
To be fair, Elsa does get some studying done. Chapter after chapter of notes steeped in multi-coloured post-its and highlighter ink. Calculus. Lit. Chemistry. Fuelled by Pumpkin Spice Lattes and a turkey sandwich. Engrossed in her books, she nearly misses the text on her phone. But shrugs it off as more parental pestering which she cannot deal with right now. The chiming persists.
Rapunzel: You are NOT blowing off Eugene's party to study. It is a FRIDAY HELLOOO. I literally don't know anyone there.
The instinct within her shoots back a message before she can consider otherwise. Gotta study. Can't make it. How easy is it to reject people after all these years of practice? The next message arrives instantaneously.
Rapunzel: Don't make me come over to your place. I've got my dad's gun.
Holy shit, this bitch doesn't let up, does she?
Fine. Text me the address.
The regret hits her immediately. Elsa stares at her Alolan Vulpix plushie, illuminated by the harsh white study light. What if Mom and Dad found out? What if her grades continued to slip? What if someone there ratted her out? She swivels around in her Herman Miller chair; one Iduna got to "help her focus better". A gaunt, pale face stares back in the mirror, and all at once she realises how much life has been sucked out of her. She really needed to get out.
Fuck it.
She redoes her braid, opts to forgo the makeup, and slaps on some jeans and a hoodie. It's a long way to the address. Elsa only realises halfway that she's driving to a party. Idiot. The prospect of explaining an underage drinking and DUI arrest to her distraught parents rifle through her mind for a moment, before she tells herself that she's only going to hang out for a couple of hours.
The banging hip hop music thumps through her car windows even before she reaches the driveway. It's an old house. One nearly on the edge of the woods separating two counties. Elsa stuffs her hands in her pockets and keeps her head low as she enters the dense haze of smoke and loud conversation. She immediately feels more than one pair of eyes thrown her way. Bodies brush against her from all directions as she searches for a familiar face. Rapunzel, or any one from school. A couple of track dudes congratulate her on the day's win, but her brain's still wound tight from the sheer amount of energy buzzing through the cramped house.
Why the fuck did I come here again?
Just as she turns to leave, Rapunzel slams into her in a clumsy hug from behind. Cheeks already flushed red. She smells of tequila and…is that weed?
"I was this close to trashing your front door," Rapunzel slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on her chin, "so freaking glad you got your head out of the books for once."
"You're fucking plastered-"
Rapunzel ignores her remark, "Did you win? Tell me you won, you…winner!"
Elsa looks at the hardwood flooring, sticky with spilled beer and god-knows-what.
"I did."
Her words are lost to the noise as Rapunzel turns and screams for Eugene to join them. And just like that, she's lost in the sea of perspiring bodies bopping to the all-too-loud Travis Scott beats. A guy bumps into her. Spilling some vodka cranberry on her hoodie and frantically slurring an apology. She brushes him off as he mumbles. "Oh you've really nice hair-"
This place is a fucking mess.
Elsa wanders further into the house, pushing past unfamiliar faces and trying to keep herself from retching from the smell of Red Bull, weed and sweat. Her eyes light up at the sight of a TV in the next living room, hooked up to an Xbox. And holy shit is that Smash bros? An Asian kid who looks like a Freshman taps frantically on the controller alone.
"Scoot over, kid," Elsa asks, picking up a spare controller, "you're my saviour tonight."
She chooses a character and methodically starts an all-out war with him. The kid's good. Elsa sits on the sofa's edge by game three. Controller gripped between fingers which knew only studying and writing all week long. She even downs a couple of beers to take the edge off. In between the loading screens, out of the corner of her eye, Elsa spots a redhead saunter into the house. Hair plaited into pigtails. Chirpy voice talking to every soul she comes across. Freckles prominent against the dim lights as she tips drink after drink down the hatch.
"Yo, the game's started," the kid reminds Elsa.
"Sorry-"
Through gritted teeth. Without even looking.
Elsa decides she doesn't like her.
She loses game six as the girl makes her way around the room. Introducing herself to Rapunzel. Eugene. Hugging and screaming with a brunette named Belle. Elsa's eyes are glued to the screen, but she can feel the girl's presence coming closer. Game seven is a complete walkover.
"What happened, man? You were really good at the start," the kid complains.
"Great playing," Elsa seethes, tossing the controller at him, "I'm gonna get another drink."
Elsa vacates the couch before that girl has a chance to come over. She wanders into the kitchen, the only place without a heady mess of boozed-up teenagers. Crampy fingers clutch the granite kitchen island. Pondering the dozen or so reasons why she dislikes that nameless girl. Something about the pigtails perhaps. Who the fuck wears their hair like that? Or maybe it's her high-pitched, preppy voice. Yea, definitely that voice. Or maybe she's just pretty. Fun. Carefree. Sociable. All the things you're not.
She glances at the window pane's reflection. The redhead's coming closer. Elsa's mouth goes dry. She turns around and shifts her hips, gulping at the realisation she's inadvertently backed herself into the corner. No escape from that slim figure walking right up to her. Looking a little out-of-place from all the casually-dressed teenagers and yet breathing the same energy as them. It blends her in effortlessly. It also drives Elsa mad as hell, knowing she could never fit in anywhere no matter how hard she tried. Always a little too quiet to be noticed and way too awkward to-
"Why'd you stop playing?" the girl asks, offering Elsa a red cup, clinking with ice, "You were kicking his ass earlier."
Elsa's head tilts. She noticed you playing.
"You came all the way into the kitchen to taunt me?" Elsa shoots back.
"No," Anna looks away, a slight, nearly imperceptible gesture that ties Elsa's throat into knots, "Fox is a good character. But Pikachu's better."
The nerve. Her hands shake. Elsa takes a sip of vodka lemonade, cringing at the sour taste. It hardly calms her, especially when the girl takes a step closer. She can make out those eyes now, cerulean blues carrying an inexplicable depth to them. And those freckles beneath a shadow, strewn like a constellation of stars. The girl twirls a plait of her red hair around a fingertip. The breath stops in Elsa's lungs. Say something, idiot.
"W-what else have you noticed?" Elsa stammers, hiding her quivering lips behind the drink again.
"That you haven't spoken to anyone," Anna says, deepening her eye contact.
Heat seeps through Elsa's skin, "And you've spoken to every single person in the house since arriving."
Anna smiles, "Nice of you to notice. I'm flattered. Flattered that you noticed, that is."
"So am I the last person on your list?" Elsa's voice deepens, "For you to tick off before you call it a night?"
"Well, you know what they say about leaving the best for last."
Oh god.
"I-I haven't seen you around," Elsa says, swirling her ice, "you're not from West Ashley high, are you?"
Anna points at her own outfit: black polo t-shirt with the logo of a cafe she'd gone to years ago. Tattered jeans and a beat up pair of sneakers.
"C'mon now, do I look like I go to West Ash?"
"I didn't know there was a look associated with West Ashley-"
A snigger cuts her off, "Of course there is! Rich. Preppy. Snotty too."
"Oh now you're insulting me," Elsa chuckles, "I don't know if I should be offended at this-"
"Only if you take it that way," Anna taps her cup against Elsa's, "If I'm to be really honest, I think you're trying too hard not to look like you go there."
Elsa takes another swig. As the sour liquid swirls down her belly, she realises the truth of Anna's statement. She doesn't want to be associated with her school. With all its pretences and pressure. She contemplates asking Anna her school, but the girl speaks first.
"So like, did you come here just to play Smash and not talk to anyone?"
"I just needed to get away from the books," Elsa mumbles, "besides, would it matter if I did?"
"It might, but at least we're talking now," Anna answers, "And that's already more than I expected walking into this kitchen."
"What were you expecting?"
Anna chuckles, "That you'd tell me to fuck off and get lost."
Elsa nearly spits out her drink, "I hope I don't come across as that much of a bitch."
Anna holds up a thumb and forefinger, squinting at Elsa through the tiny gap between them, "Maybe just a little. But it's a chance I'm willing to take. Just to hear your voice."
A sharp inhale. Laced with the scent of vodka, lemon, and - strawberries? The buzzing in Elsa's brain shoves itself to the front. She hadn't even realised Anna had approached within breathing distance. The girl is shorter than her by inches, and Elsa finds herself shifting down slightly just to be nearer to those gorgeous eyes. She breathes out the words with quivering lips, "I'm glad you took that chance" and watches them spread a cherry-pink blush across her freckles. Anna finishes her drink, sweeping a tongue over her lips. The sight makes Elsa swallow. There's a heady throb pulsing through Elsa's head now. Her eyes dip to Anna's hips. All snug in those slim fitting jeans. The impulse to reach out a hand just to feel-
A sudden crash sends them whirling around. Rapunzel staggers in and resets an upset beer cooler, chucking ice everywhere and missing the sink.
"Elsa!" she slurs, "E-eugene wanted me to um, tell you!"
"What?"
"Your f-fucking car's double parked and someone needs to…the hospital."
"Oh Christ," Elsa rips herself away from the conversation. She pushes past the crowd. Stopping at the door just to turn around one last time. A rift tears through her chest when she makes out Anna's eyes still locked on hers. She didn't even ask her name.
"C'mon!" Rapunzel yanks her elbow. There's a girl slouching on Eugene's shoulder. Alcohol poisoning or some shit, and Elsa's Lexus blocks the way. Immediately, she puts her car in reverse to allow the designated driver out. A check on her phone shows it's nearly midnight, way longer than she intended to stay. She could go back and search for Anna, if only just to hear her cute voice again. She should go back. But the cops will probably be out soon with their roadblocks. And…shit, there's a dozen messages from Mom and Dad asking if she's ok.
Instead, Elsa does the most responsible thing she's done all day.
She returns home. Texting a picture of her neatly highlighted notes to her parents. Scrolling through friends' Instagram photos and pausing at every redhead she sees. Asking Rapunzel if she's home safe. (Eugene replies that she's passed out on his couch). Finishing her Turkey Sandwich. Brushing her teeth. Reading fics. None of these distractions rid her mind of those bright blue eyes. And when she escapes to the quiet of that rooftop sanctuary again - it's not silence she hears. It's that voice. Telling her she's willing to take that chance.
A sense of loss seeps into her chest when she lies on a duvet under the stars. It aches. Tugging at her in a manner as inexplicable as how those eyes made her feel.
How do you grieve for something you've never had?
Amidst the star-swept night skies which still steal her breath each time, there's a single glowing one twinkling in the Cosmos. Brighter than all the rest.
And Elsa falls asleep wondering if she's found hers.