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Xio did not like sports. Yes, it was predictable—of course the gay trans kid hates sports! It wasn’t that he was unathletic. Okay, maybe it was. But they were also just boring most of the time. Xio didn’t understand the thrill of watching an hour and a half long soccer match, or know the names of star players. His expertise was his cards, and not much else.
Squished between Niya and Xochi in an uncomfortable stadium seat, Xio was very much out of his element. It’s not like he could have turned down the offer to go; it was just another event for the semidioses to attend for publicity, and staying back on the ship would have turned Teo’s punishment for sneaking off with Aurelio into a reward.
Xio shrank down in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. Soccer seemed like some kind of cruel, sadistic edging exercise for fans rather than a sport. How many times could you watch a team get a hair’s breadth from scoring a goal before it got too boring? For Xio, it was about twice before he clocked out of the game for good.
It didn’t help that the stadium was constantly in uproar, vibrating with chants and gritos. It made Xio even more anxious; his precious noise-cancelling headphones had been left at home, forgotten in the mad dash to get to Sol City on time. He silently mourned his loss as his headache got worse as the game progressed.
After he saw a fourth player writhe on the ground like he was dying in an attempt for a red card, Xio had seen enough testosterone flowing for one day. He stood up and edged his way past Niya, who snapped out of her intense analyzation of the match to give him a quizzical look.
“Where ya going, Xio?”
“The suite,” Xio shouted over the noise, and quickly hopped up the stairs before she could pester him with more questions. He sent a silent prayer up to the Obsidians that she was too focused on the game to follow him.
Their seats were part of a suite provided by the temple of Sol (apparently Sol priests got vacations to soccer games in the Opal Oasis), and the inside of the suite was blessedly quieter than outside. A few Sol priests were wandering around, but none of them reprimanded Xio for escaping inside. There were a few buffet tables heaped high with food, and Xio found his mouth to be watering. Grabbing a plate, he stuffed a warm, fluffy tortilla full of beans, rice, guacamole and pico de gallo before scouting out a table away from the Sol priests. He has nothing to do but eat his food and stare at the wall, but it was the most relaxed he had been all day.
A few minutes of quiet later, a door to the suite opened and closed, letting in a brief roar of sound. Xio flinched and looked up, trying to look like he hadn’t been licking guacamole off of his fingers.
Atzi stood silhouetted against the windows for a moment, before she floated over to the buffet table. At least, that’s what she did from Xio’s perspective; she wore a long blue skirt, so dark it was nearly black, and an off-the-shoulder yellow top that brought out the snowy color of her eyes.
Oh, shit. He was staring. He quickly glanced back down at his empty plate, suddenly taking an acute interest in the crumbs and grains of rice left there. He could hear the clinking of silverware as Atzi gathered her own food, and prayed that she would just take it back outside. Son of Mala Suerte luck was never scared away, it seemed, as Atzi’s deep voice came from his right a moment later.
“Mind if I join you?”
Xio glanced up through his hair, hoping he didn’t look as flustered as he felt. Sol must be laughing at him: Atzi was an arm’s length away, smiling over her plate of food like he was her birthday present. Xio didn’t have it in him to turn her down (would he? Could he?) so he feebly shook his head in permission. Atzi gave him a flash of perfect white teeth before she sat down across from him, her skirt pooling across the chair. Xio attempted not to stare again, but there wasn’t much else he could do except creepily watch her eat.
Atzi seemed to notice his absentmindedness a few minutes into their silent vigil, and swallowed a piece of chip, setting her determined sights on Xio in a way that made him break out in a sweat. He would not want to be on the receiving end of that stare if she was angry.
“How’re you doing, Xio? I haven’t talked to you at all since the trials started.”
Xio didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Uh—why would you want to talk to me?”
Atzi made a pitying, surprised sound in her throat. “What do you mean? We’re the two youngest competitors. It would make sense that we’d make a pair.”
“A pair?” Xio hoped his cheeks weren’t red, because by the stars, they felt like they were on fire.
“A media pair, y’know?” Atzi provided, swirling a chip around in her puddle of guacamole. “Like how Aurelio and Auristela are together a lot, or Marino and Dezi. I’m paired up with Xochi most of the time, but they might put us together for future interviews. Y’know, to get hip with the kids or whatever!”
Atzi burst out into giggles, and it was contagious; Xio found himself cracking a grin, which he quickly hid by tucking his chin into his chest. Butterflies exploded in his stomach, and he quickly smothered his smile with his lips. He couldn’t do this right now.
(Xio would never, ever admit it to anyone, but he had had a crush on Atzi ever since he bought her first trading card. He had marveled over it for days afterward. It wasn’t even all that valuable, but he treated it like it was a limited edition, holographic Sol card. He wondered often, would her conductor rings fit around his fingers? Then he would giggle, kick his feet, and dismiss those thoughts, because he had a job to do and his feelings for Atzi couldn’t get in the way.)
Atzi sighed as she gathered herself, lacing her fingers together. “I’m guessing you’re not the biggest fan of soccer?”
“Sports in general, really,” Xio said, glancing up at one of the TVs that was broadcasting the game. No one had scored since he came into the suite. “Not my cup of tea.”
“See, I used to play on the team at the academy,” Atzi said animatedly. “The junior varsity team, of course. And my dad really likes it, so I know pretty much all the terms and all the players and who won which cup what year.”
For whatever reason, her bragging never seemed to put Xio off, like it normally did when he heard someone talking like this. Instead, he leaned in a bit, cocking his head. “But it’s…so boring.”
Atzi cackled, which felt rewarding, all the way down to Xio’s toes. “It’s the opposite! It keeps you on the edge of your seat the entire time, because anything can happen! That’s the point of sports.”
“But they just…keep not scoring.”
Shrugging, Atzi took a bite of guac and chip. “They have ninety-and-some minutes to play. They’re not gonna be scoring every time they run the ball.”
“I guess that’s…fair.” Xio dragged grains of rice across his plate with the tip of his finger. “Why don’t you still play soccer?”
“Oh. Sports are mostly for the younger kids, y’know?” Atzi twirled a braid around her finger. “Once you’re thirteen…it’s full Hero curriculum at the academy.”
She glanced up, and flushed. “Oh, that wasn’t supposed to be, like, a dig at you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Xio assured her. Not even Niya was that quick to earnestly apologize if she said something out of line to him. “I’m kinda used to it, to be fair.”
“Aw, but you shouldn’t be used to it.” Atzi propped her chin up on her hand, chewing at her lip. “Jades should be able to go to the academy, in my opinion. Different courses, sure, but still have the opportunity.”
Xio opened his mouth to agree, and then closed it. A small shiver went down his spine, as if another pair of eyes were on him, and he merely nodded and glanced away from the semidios.
Atzi was so—unlike the other Golds. It made Xio so confused; his father had told him his entire life that the Golds were nothing but proud, vain creatures who sought nothing more than to bury the Obsidians in their own dust. And yet, here Atzi was, apologizing to Xio like he was her equal. If she knew who he was, would she shrink away in fear? Or would her hair stand on end as she pumped Xio’s veins full of lightning?
She wasn’t like Niya, who protected Xio for Teo. Atzi was sitting across from an Jade-disguised-Obsidian, and she was laughing and talking and breathing the same air as him.
Xio should hate her. It was his job to hate her, to fulfill his father’s wishes and kick every Gold—dios or semidios—off of their lofty pedestal. But when it came time for Xio to fulfill his destiny, would he be able to eliminate Atzi? Were his own emotions his true weakness, and not his lack of powers?
“Xio?” Atzi asked, muffled through his thoughts. “You okay? You kinda zoned out.”
“Where’s the restroom?” He choked out. He couldn’t be around her for a second longer—not when this guilt was choking him like a rope.
Atzi’s perfectly sculpted brows furrowed in concern, but she pointed somewhere behind him. “Down the hall, to the left. But, Xio, are—“
“Thanks,” he blurted, standing up abruptly and practically sprinting out of the room.
He crashed into the empty bathroom and pressed his back to the door, trying not to hyperventilate. He couldn’t do this—not when Atzi was so perfect in every stupid way. How was he supposed to free the Obsidians when a crush was the only thing standing between him and the stars?
Xio had to forget her. He had to be ready to eliminate her by the Sunbearer ceremony. So that meant no more emotions, except for those he carefully faked to Teo and Niya. He had to learn to hate the beautiful girl he loved.
But fuck, with her beautiful trading card haunting his dreams every night, it was going to be hard.