Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Monday, August 12: 1 week until senior year

Starting a diary. Journal, notebook, whatever. I got the idea from the internet because I can’t afford therapy. As if my mom would even pay for it. But she says I don’t need it. Says I need more protein.

“Adora, you don’t have anxiety, you’re just nervous about your presentation tomorrow, that’s normal.”

“You just have to work harder in volleyball, Adora. You’re being lazy, it’s not depression.”

“Adora, I have such high hopes for you. You’re going to do great things for this family and for the town.”

I don’t know what to do. I’m nervous. Mom has been so mean lately. Or has she? I can never tell. I don’t know how to feel. Have I ever felt? What are feelings? Gah. I hate being 16. Too much in my head.

Anyway, I’m nervous, but I’m excited. I think I’ve got a good shot at class president. That’ll be a good resume builder, right? Mom believes in me, Catra…well, she doesn’t take much seriously, but that’s why we’re friends. She takes me out of my head, for the most part. Starting senior year is going to be rough for the both of us, but in very different ways. I’ve been trying to help Catra to show up to school since freshman year, I mean, she lives literally next door. She might as well live at my house, though Mom doesn’t like her that much. Something about a bad influence. She acts like I can be a good influence on her, and then is mean whenever I bring her around? Parents are so confusing. I wonder if my birth parents would do the same thing. Whatever, anyway, I could drive her to school. I could walk with her to school. We could use a tandem bike. I’ve offered. Sometimes she lets me, sometimes she doesn’t. I never know what she’s thinking.

There is so much pressure. Everything is so hard. I’m taking a full load of classes, I skipped two grades, I play sports year round, and it never seems like it’s enough. Catra stresses me out even though she’s my best friend. I guess it’s true what they say about having a crazy best friend.

Like, last year, she stole a car. A CAR. I don’t even know where she could’ve gotten it. There aren’t any car dealerships for twenty miles, and it didn’t have a license plate. She sat on top of it and wouldn’t come down until I begged Mom for a sleepover to try and bribe her. I wish I knew where that car went. It would be a nice conclusion to the story, but it is yet another cliffhanger.

Why can’t I stop thinking about Catra? It’s like I can’t stop worrying about her. Why do I feel responsible for her? Is this what friendship is? She’s been in my life for as long as I can remember. Sure, we’ve had our fights, but a lot of them were just play-fighting. Mom gets really mad at Catra about it. I’ve tried to redeem her in Mom’s eyes, tell her about the cool things she’s done at school. Like, she’s a phenomenal basketball player. We’re on the same team, and she totally carried us to the championship last year. Mom goes to almost all of my games but doesn’t seem to notice how much discipline Catra has during basketball season. (I think she might have ADHD, but that’s something I can write about later.) She just makes comments about how I did well, but not quite well enough. And then completely ignores when I bring up how flawless Catra’s playing is. It’s so ANNOYING. Are kids allowed to feel annoyed at their parents if their parents provide for them? I mean, Mom does pay for my school and made sure I got to all my extracurriculars in high school. She makes sure I stay motivated and eat right. So why am I angry at her? Does she just care too much? See, these are questions I could ask a therapist, but since the administration seems to only care about test scores and not students, we barely have a competent counselor. I had a friend go to a psychiatric hospital, and when she came back, she had to leave the school because she missed so much homework and the counselor didn’t do jack shit for her to help her catch up or even talk through how she felt coming back to school. It was bullshit. I really miss Glimmer. I wish Mom didn’t force me to stop being friends with her. I told her once that Glimmer seemed to be having a rough time mentally, and she forbade me from talking to her. And it’s not like I have a cellphone to try and talk to her. Mom says they rot your brain. So I just lost touch with her. I heard she went to an academy in the next town over for a year, then she came back, but I haven't seen her very much. Maybe if Mom would stop being such a PAIN I could make friends with her again. But she’d wring my neck for that. It already feels like I'm on thin ice being friends with Catra. Maybe it’s all just a pipe dream. Anyway, I have conditioning for volleyball in the morning. Mom likes to run drills before practice. I am captain, after all. Write later.

Thursday, August 15: 4 days until senior year

These two-a-days are KILLING me. They’re not even necessary! At least for volleyball! I kinda hate that Mom is the volleyball coach. AND the History teacher. I’m being suffocated by how involved she is in my life. Again, SO MUCH PRESSURE. I feel like a crockpot. And I don’t want to. I want to feel like an ice cream cone. But I can’t, because ice cream is reserved for the second week of March and the first week of June, and it’s unhealthy so I have to portion control. Sure, I guess it helps with my performance, but can’t I just be a normal teenager and get a milkshake with my friends on a Friday night and then go to a movie? Apparently not, I have to work on extra credit for my classes and hear about the fun weekends everyone had on Monday. You know I’ve read every single book on the summer reading list? We’re just supposed to pick ONE and write a paper on it based on the prompts sent out by the English teacher. I wrote a paper on each one, just in case Dr. Grizz didn’t have enough reading and grading to do.

I guess in some ways, I’m lucky to have such an involved mom? I mean, I don’t have a dad, Mom adopted me on her own. And some people don’t even have parents, or their parents don’t care nearly as much. I need to be more grateful. Plus, I’m lucky because my mom can be a mom to my friends, like Catra. Maybe she sees the same potential in Catra that she sees in me. I mean, I’ve never met Catra’s parents, and she’s never mentioned them, so maybe they don’t care as much about her. So, I can be more involved in her life and support her!

New goal: help Catra feel appreciated! Maybe Mom will finally be able to have a conversation about Catra that isn’t just her criticizing.

Anyway, volleyball practice has been going decently. I think I’m getting the hang of my jump serve. I’m the only person on the team who can! I better be good at it since Mom decided it was absolutely imperative for me to learn. I thought I was a great hitter, but learning a jump serve is a whole new ball game. Haha, I’m kinda funny.

I’ll talk about volleyball more later, something weird happened at practice, but Mom wants to go school shopping and that has to happen RIGHT NOW apparently.

Later, August 15: still 4 days until senior year

UGH. ALL I ASKED FOR WAS TICONDEROGA PENCILS AND SHE STARTS TALKING ABOUT MY “FUTURE”.

I AM SIX. TEEN.

I have no idea how I can ever live up to her expectations, I can’t be normal and well-rounded if my mom won’t even let me do normal teenager things.

I need to take my mind off of things. I’ll write about volleyball, I guess.

It’s not a super weird thing, but it kind of is.

Catra actually tried.

I mean, I know I pushed her to do volleyball after she did so well during basketball season. I figured that another sport would help with making her feel in control, and she’s got a great vertical, which translates well into being a hitter.

But she never tries in sports. She never tries in anything. She’s naturally super smart and athletic and coordinated, so she doesn’t seem to care enough about things to put effort in, they just come easily to her. Maybe that’s one of the reasons Mom doesn’t like her? Because Mom likes people who put in effort? I think? I feel like I don’t know what people actually think ever, they always seem to be one thing and then switch up on me. I feel crazy sometimes.

But anyway, she was actually working hard in the drills. She asked me for pointers on a jump serve! It was like a different dimension.

I went up to her after practice and asked about it.

“Hey, you did great out there!”

She scoffed. “Well, duh! I guess the talent just comes with being this sexy.” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, sure. But seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sweat. And you look disgusting right now.” I chuckled a bit and Catra’s face scrunched up. “You didn’t even try to fight my mom for once.”

“Okay, that was kind of rude.” She turned cold. See what I mean? I can never tell what people are feeling. I don’t know what I did! I feel so helpless in my relationships sometimes. All I want to do is help. Why is life so hard?

Catra seemed to shake it off after that but I could tell she was mad. Though, I don’t even know what I said: she knows she has a temper and pushes back when my mom runs drills and stuff. I feel like it would be easier to just go along with it, but it’s like her first impulse is to be angry at everything. I hope she’s okay. She’s my best friend.

Sunday, August 18: SENIOR YEAR IS TOMORROW

DUDE. DUDE. DUDE.

I FINALLY GOT A PHONE.

SHE LISTENED TO ME AND SHE LOVES ME AND I CAN BE A NORMAL TEENAGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THERE ARE SO MANY RULES BUT AT LEAST I HAVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Maybe nothing bad can happen to me ever. Ever ever ever. I’m so excited, I’m gonna go tell Catra after this. She’s been calling me a lame ass for the longest time for not being “normal”.

But the thing is, I’m still so nervous for senior year. Yeah, I’ve been going to this school for years, but it feels like the administration has been getting weirder. Principal Hordak has been cracking down on normal teenager shenanigans more than ever, as if he doesn’t recognize that we’re still kids. Sure, we all skipped grades, but I’m sixteen years old going into my senior year of high school. Of course I’m not emotionally mature. None of us are. We’re all a giant mess even though we’re expected to grow up so fast. Everything is stupid and adults are stupid. I wish I didn’t have such a pristine reputation to uphold. I want to be me but I don’t even know who I am. I’ve always had to be something for other people, always giving, always being the best of the best. I can’t do anything for me. Maybe college will be different.

I’m so tired of being things for other people. I’m also normal tired. Hopefully I can get some sleep tonight. Will update tomorrow. I'm glad I started doing this.

Chapter Text

Monday, August 19: Third Period: Free Bell

This morning has been pretty decent. I’ve already got homework because of course I do. It feels like my mom is constantly following me. It’s like I can’t go anywhere in the school without seeing her. I don’t know how she does it.

Catra and Kyle have a few classes with me this semester! Which, thank god because with how my head is being lately I have been scared of feeling even more alone. My next class is AP Lit, which is probably my easiest class because of how much I work on papers and stuff. I hate it sometimes but at least I’ll probably get into a good college. I’ve been getting worried. What if I’m not doing enough? My resume feels like it’s weak. Our college counselor has been talking about quality over quantity, meaning it’s better to have been doing something extracurricular for a long time rather than to do a bunch of extracurriculars for a short time each. I’ve been on varsity teams since freshman year and have stayed and worked, but I’m worried that that won’t be enough. I do like to write and I appreciate the arts but mom says there isn’t any worth in them. I’ve watched the drama and creative writing clubs from afar since sophomore year and envied them. Sure, they’re insufferable at times, but it seems like they’re having so much fun. I wish I could have that kind of fun. Yeah, winning is fun, but I don’t feel as much fulfillment from it.

Can’t stop thinking about Catra and our weird interaction when she got upset the other day. I don’t know. She came up to me in the senior locker room today and practically pounced on me, hugging me and screaming about how we made it, we’re seniors!

“AREN’T YOU EXCITED!!!!!! I DON’T CARE IF PEOPLE ARE STARING” (they were) “WE DID IT WE MADE IT AND WE’RE SENIORS, BESTIE SENIORS!!!!!!” I felt my face get all hot. I guess from the embarrassment. But still it was good to have her back. She switches so often that I was worried she would be mad about having to go back to school. I wonder what she’s gonna do after high school. Should I even be worried about that? I don’t even know what I want to do. What if I never see her again? I gotta stop worrying about that stuff.

“So, show me your new phone! We have to get you set up on social media and set me as an emergency contact and order you a cute phone case! And—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Mom says I ca—”

“UGHHHHH for the love of GOD, Adora, you have got to stop listening to her every thought and whim. Loosen up. I’m sure you can figure out having a secret from her. Cut the umbilical cord already, and I KNOW that she didn’t actually give birth to you. But it’s like when she adopted you, she sewed in industrial piping to connect you to her. It’s crazy and she’s crazy. **I mean, come ON, she doesn’t like me and I’m the best person ever.” She winked at me. My chest got hot. Again, probably the embarrassment. “You gotta figure yourself out, chica.”

Ugh, Catra, I know but the only thing I have to do that with is library books and a bunch of blank papers. I’M TRYING. I’M ALWAYS TRYING. I gotta go, free bell is almost over. Time to turn in all my papers!

Monday, August 19: Fifth Period: Lunch

Today’s lunch: Organic hummus and carrots. Electrolyte pack. Grilled salmon, cold.

First day of school lunch is always the best and then it goes downhill. Too bad my loving mother has scheduled all her lunches at the same time mine is, and she packs a very healthy lunch for me every day. It’s like I can feel her staring at me until I finish it all. Catra thinks she’s poisoning me with sedatives or something. I am 98% sure that isn’t true. Never put anything past anyone.

I keep hearing the theater kids laughing at their table. Yeah, me and Catra and our other friends have a good time but why does it seem like they have so much more fun? Anyway, Catra and Lonnie are talking about different maneuvers for our upcoming match. Those two are a literal dream team. Lonnie is the best setter our school has had in twenty years. Coupled with our new libero, we have a phenomenal shot at the state title. I’m so excited. I started talking to Kyle about setting up study group times for our AP Gov and Chem classes, trying to ignore the laughter going on around our serious little group. Why are we a group of sixteen year olds who talk as if we’re already graduated college? I’m getting annoyed. I feel like I’m missing something, something big and important.

Suddenly, something catches my eye. I freeze, my sandwich halfway to my mouth and Kyle still discussing the boys’ soccer schedule. Glimmer? When I said I had barely seen her, I meant I had seen her in passing at the grocery store. But there was no mistaking that pink and purple hair. She’s here???

I smack Catra on the arm.

“OW! WHAT?!” Catra’s face scrunches.

“Dude, it’s Glimmer. She’s here.”

Catra freezes the same way I did. The rest of the table has heard our whisper-shouting and turns to see the girl we all thought of as a ghost just walking through the cafeteria as if it was two years ago all over again. It feels like the entire room has gone silent, save for the theater kids. Wait.

Wait.

She’s sitting with them? Not with us? She was one of our star players. Does she not miss us? How does she even know those people? What the hell is happening?

We sit at our table slack-jawed for the rest of the period until the warning bell signals us to scarf down our lunch and sprint to grab our books from our lockers. Physics next!

Tuesday, August 20: First Period: Physics comma Honors

After the news hit our group yesterday, it was so hard to concentrate on anything. Thank god I could just fudge it and tell my mom that we didn’t do much but go over syllabi. Because, again, of course, she needs to have all the information about my entire day. I wouldn’t be surprised if she kept a log and cross referenced it against her own notes and talking to my teachers.

Yesterday’s practice was a whirlwind too. I don’t remember a single drill we did. Luckily, I had my trusty phone to debrief with Catra afterward.

C: Dude, you were OUT OF IT today. wtf is up with the glimmer stuff? why are you so hung up on it?

A: I don’t know, man. i guess it was the shock or something? like i’ve barely seen her since sophomore year and the rumors said she came back but i never saw her. and then she didnt even say hi to us. i guess im hurt. i miss her

C: yeah, but like….yall weren’t super close? WE have always been best friends, not you and her. i think youre just stressed about college shit

She was right. Catra and I had met at our freshman orientation and been inseparable ever since, no matter the little squabbles we got in. But does that mean I can’t be concerned about Glimmer? That I can’t miss her? We had good times together, especially when Catra took Spanish and Glimmer and I took French. That was a rough year for us two, Catra felt like I betrayed her. Luckily we got past it, especially if I don’t bring it up ever again. But Catra has always had a rough time with friends, she’s been basically abandoned by everyone in her life so I’m the last one left. She needs therapy. But so do I. I should start a counter for how many times I say that in this journal. I’m like five entries in, this is insane. I’m insane. The world is insane.

I decided to tell her I was going to bed because yeah, I was stressed. But college doesn’t even begin to cover it. There’s so many decisions to make.

But today will be better. Physics is starting off pretty slow, which I need, but next period is Latin and while I love it, that class has me in a big ball of anxiety. It’s just stressful, learning and translating a dead language. Latin, my beloved, never change. I mean, you haven’t for thousands of years. Unless you count ecclesiastical Latin, which no one should. Will write later. Save me from my silly little brain.

Thursday, August 22: Fourth Period: Lunch

Today’s lunch: veggie wrap. Cut fruit. Electrolyte pack. Energy bar.

This morning was such a fucking drag. And yeah, I swore. No mom here to yell at me about it. At least, I hope not. Which is why I tuck this journal under my sheets on the side of my mattress against the wall. So far, we have been safe.

But for real, I have no idea why it was so hard to get out of bed. I’ve had “morning person” drilled into me for as long as I can remember. I’m supposed to be super human in terms of teenagers. But it was just so hard. I felt so heavy. Today is going to be hard. Probably won’t write much.

Thursday, August 29: After School: My Room

A lot has happened in the last week. Well, not really. But something weird happened.

I felt something.

Okay, no, not like that. I mean, I feel a lot of things. I think I actually feel too many things. But this was a new something. A scary something. A heart-getting-stuck-in-my-throat something.

I think I have a crush.

I’ve had crushes before, y’know? I’ve had the silly little passing notes crushes in like elementary school. But this was sudden, sudden and extremely new. And something I don’t think I want to really tell anyone about just yet. Or even myself.

Journal, I think I’m gay.

Okay, yeah, technically the term is lesbian, which is a little cool because like Sappho and I’ve translated some of her poetry! But here’s the thing, it’s scary as fuck. I’m not totally sure about the whole thing and I’ll have to do some secret research to be for sure but I feel like something is falling into place now that I have that little word. A little secret only I know.

But I really did feel something. I’m partnered with this girl, Daia, for our speech project. I’ve always hated that class. I can only publicly speak well when I’m yelling drills and stuff at my various practices because I can force the confidence through the volume in my voice. But right now we are supposed to be working on our college resumes for our first assignment: practicing for college interviews. Oh, goody. Which reminds me, I need to email my teachers for recommendation letters. I hate being stressed.

ANYWAY. Daia and I are supposed to select random questions from a long list of potential college interview questions and ask the other so that we are prepared for anything. And we practiced them in class today. Just like, on our own. I was standing by our desks and she asked me a question. I started to answer, but when I looked at her, she winked at me. It scared me so much, I stopped breathing and forgot what I was saying. She marked that question as one I needed to practice, even though I’ve done it flawlessly in my room and to my mom before.

But she was the new factor. And she messed me up. Just by winking at me.

Does she like me? Do I like her? Do I like the attention?

I’m gonna try and ask Catra about it tomorrow. She always knows what to do. Or, at least, she says things very decisively which makes me have more confidence in her than I do myself sometimes. I’m so glad she’s my friend. She’s just the person I’m most comfortable with in the world.

Friday, August 30: After School: My Room

I chickened out. I couldn’t get the strength to even beat around the bush about it. I mean, Catra’s my best friend! She should be the easiest person to tell this to. So why is it so hard?

Maybe it’s because I’m overreacting. I mean, I’ve been feeling kind of sluggish lately. Maybe my brain just short circuited and I couldn’t remember the next part of my answer.

That’s gotta be it. I mean, I’ve barely interacted with Daia before in my classes. She’s on like all the opposite teams in each season, plus she’s in AP Art. So she’s not really someone I’ve typically hung out with in the past. Usually when I’ve got weird stuff in my head, it means I’m dehydrated. I didn’t finish all my electrolytes today, so that must be it. I'm not gay. I'm just dehydrated. It's like how mom always says I'm just tired and need more sleep when I miss a pass in practice. I'm just off my game. I'm not gay, just stressed and dehydrated. I mean, I already have an AP Gov quiz tomorrow, and we’re starting debates next week. Praying to whatever god is out there that I get a decent partner. Catra is usually my go-to for debates, but there’s always a chance Dr. P will do random partner assignments. Which I hate. I just want to be in a familiar little cocoon of safety and blankets.

I’m so hungry. Am I growing? I want snacks so bad. Maybe Catra can sneak me out and we can fulfill my gas station dreams of getting a snack there. Mom locks me in the car when we go to the gas station, and checks my gas level in the car every day and does not let me get my own gas. Technically, yeah, I could go to a gas station by myself, but I’m literally so scared that she somehow knows where I go. I bet there’s a tracker in my phone. What is she so scared of?

I’m hating AP Chem. I’m considering switching to AP Bio. I’m really good at balancing chemical equations, but not anything else. I told mom I’d take Chem, but maybe I’ll start doing little rebellious things. One per week. Maybe that will help me get in control of my life. Even a little bit.

On Monday, I’m going to the office and submitting a class change form. I will do it. Yes, I will. IwillIwillIwillIwillIWILL.

I promise you, Journal. I am going to do something for myself. At least, one of these days.