#zkweek17
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Confessions of a Teenage Sugar Queen: Going Out
This piece can be found on Ao3 and ff.net or by following the links below.
Chpt. 1 | Chpt. 2 | Chpt. 3 | Chpt. 4 | Chpt. 5 | Chpt. 6 | Chpt. 7 | Chpt. 8 | Chpt. 9
This discovery inspires me to get up off my ass and find out more information about Noriko—no, Ursa. I’m still hesitant to read Crashing Blue Spirit for fear of what it might reveal that I’m not ready to accept, but according to the author’s bio in the back, Professor Noriko has written several publications. So I will be making that trip to the university library after all.
Someone else had the same idea.
Zuko is tucked away in a nook of the library’s research section with a stack of books, the same ones I’m looking for, no doubt. He doesn’t acknowledge me, so now what? I should apologize. No, I should leave him alone. He should uncover the truth on his own. He doesn’t need me. It’s not like I’m a real investigator anyway, who was I kidding?
I only make it to the end of the aisle in my attempt at retreat.
“Katara?”
I don’t turn around when I speak. “I wasn’t following you. I was just—“
“I’m sorry,” he says softly—because that’s his usual demeanor, not because we’re in a library.
He has nothing to be sorry for, but he’s probably used to taking the blame. I know I should set things straight, but the shelves are narrowing, and the room is too confining.
I don’t understand what I’m feeling because this building is huge, but I need to get out. Now.
But then, the sun is too bright, and the wind has a bite. I want to run as far and long as I can, but I am so tired. I am trapped—spinning in circles, falling, crashing…
Right into Zuko.
When he catches me, I bury my forehead in the cleft of his shoulder and pound my fists on his chest. I am furious at myself for crying again because I vowed to stop this nonsense and actually do something constructive. Why is Zuko the one comforting me? His father abused him, his mother abandoned him, and I’m altogether useless to him.
He doesn’t say anything. He just holds me and rubs gentle circles on my back like he did the first time he gave me a ride home. Because he knew even then what I needed before I would allow myself to receive it. I pull away, overcome by a sudden wave of alarming clarity.
“Zuko, what do you need?” I may not have his gift of intuition, but I also never thought to ask.
He flashes the smallest of smiles. “I need you.”
That’s not the answer I expected. “But I’m too… needy.”
“It feels good to be needed,” he says with a shrug. “It’s like… what I do matters to you. It sounds stupid, but I’m not used to that. Having someone who cares.”
“I do care, Zuko. I care a lot.” About you is implied here, but maybe I should say it out loud. Because during my personal pity party earlier, I promised to be more upfront with him, too.
“I’m sorry I took off,” he continues. “I just... I thought that my mom would have…” He clinches his jaw and sighs dejectedly. “I thought I mattered to her. I thought she cared. I guess I was wrong.”
“We don’t know for sure. Maybe she stayed away to keep you safe.”
He points at his scar. “Yeah right. Safe.”
Tears well up again, and I realize this is why I’ve been crying so much lately. I’ve been craving safe. It’s something you’re supposed to feel around family, but I haven’t since Mom died. When I’m with Zuko, he grants me that sense of security I’ve been missing, but when I look at his face, I hardly feel it’s fair. The same man who hurt him so badly is hunting us now. Zuko has never felt safe. He probably never will.
Zuko interrupts my reverie by stroking my dampened cheeks and lightly kissing my forehead. “Can we go somewhere to talk? Like a tea shop.”
Funny. I didn’t know Zuko liked tea.
He’s not satisfied by the Yelp ratings for the tea shop near the NPU campus, so we hop on the bus to find “the best tea in town.”
“Only five stars will do,” he says with a smirk.
“You do know that tea is just hot leaf juice,” I tease.
His expression turns solemn. “Whatever you do, don’t ever say that in front of my uncle.”
“Why?”
“Because he really likes tea,” Zuko replies. “And… he really likes you. Don’t give him a reason not to.”
I straighten up in my seat and give a fake salute. “I won’t let you down, sir.”
He rolls his eyes and ACK! He tickles me! Right there on the bus! Oh boy, is he gonna get it now!
We become that touchy teenage couple that everyone finds annoying. We’re even getting disapproving looks from a group of older women sitting toward the front. I’m sorta lovin’ it. I mean, let the kids whose lives are in mortal danger actually have some fun, OK?
What I love even more is Zuko’s smile. It is so pure.
Hot damn, I think I’m falling for this man.
I literally go weak in the knees when we arrive at the tea shop. Zuko leans toward me and shows me the Yelp reviews on his phone.
“Only four stars for tea, actually. But five for the view. What do you think?”
I swallow a few times to release my tied-up tongue. “I’ll have jasmine, please.”
He quirks his brow. “Uhh, I’m sure they have that blend.”
He scans the scenery, and something familiar passes across his features. At the tide pools, I read it as distance. But this time, I see it as loss. The ocean is tied to his mother’s disappearance somehow. I figure he brought me here because he knew I would love it. But I also wonder if he’s looking for some reconciliation, too.
Tea is served with a side of awkward silence. Is this back-and-forth normal for all couples early in their relationship or are we just special because of our circumstances?
Are we even a couple?
That would be a good place to start. “So, umm, Zuko? What are we? You know… like… to each other?”
I expect Zuko to avoid the question, but he doesn’t at all. He reaches across the table and places his hands over mine. “Katara, I really like you. And if things were normal, I would ask you out. I wouldn’t even think twice.”
“If things were normal, I would say yes. But… they’re not normal, are they?”
“No. Someone in my family killed someone in yours. We can’t just ignore that. And if something happened to you, Katara, because of me…”
“Zuko, you didn’t kill my mom, and I don’t blame you for it. Your dad is seriously fucked up, and I want to help you take him down! Not just for what he did to my family, but what he did to yours, too. We’re in this together no matter what… as friends or… as something else… but I don’t think friends usually kiss and stuff, so…”
I am flush and rambling and would rather be kissing than talking. Why is Zuko looking at me like I’m crazy?
“You’re crazy, Katara.”
Oh.
“Let’s go to the beach,” he says suddenly.
Now who’s the crazy one?
The beach is nice, but it’s getting late, and we should head back before Dad and Sokka arrive.
Zuko has something else in mind, though.
“Can I read you a little from the Blue Spirit book?”
I’m taken aback by this suggestion, but I oblige. He leans against a rock, and I tuck myself under his arm, relishing his warmth. Alaskan summers are nice, as I recall, but coastal winds always carry the chill of the Pacific current.
“Your mom was amazing,” Zuko starts.
I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t think the book would convey anything otherwise, but uncovering so many secrets in such a short amount of time has taken a toll on me.
“When her son was born in Alaska, among family members from their native tribe, everyone congratulated her on the birth of a fearless warrior. In California two years later, when she shared her pink bundle with mostly strangers, everyone congratulated her on the birth of a beautiful princess. Kya made two promises to her daughter that day. One, she would teach her the ways of their people. And two, she would teach her to fight.
It was likely no coincidence that at age three, the young girl’s favorite game was to adorn herself in tribal paint and play ‘warrior princess.’ It amused Kya, but her greatest hope for her daughter’s fiery passion was finding a cause worth fighting for.”
I place my hand on Zuko’s forearm, signaling for him to stop. “So, this is a biography… about my mom?”
“Yeah, it starts from her early career, when she covered the Valdez oil spill. As best I can tell from the Painted Lady files, that’s how our mothers met. My mom reached out because she wanted to write a story about her.”
“Oh. I thought it was because your mom knew about what your dad was doing and wanted my mom to investigate?” I muse.
“I think it was the other way around—your mom knew first about my dad then told my mom. Maybe something my mom said in one of their interviews for the biography prompted the investigation. But the report your mom compiled was dated the same day my mom went missing.”
“Do you think she left because your dad found out somehow?”
“I don’t know. He knew, though, because he sent someone to… take care of it.”
“Right. Yon Rha.” My inner warrior princess flares at the mentioning of Ozai’s hired henchman who killed my mother.
“I turned everything in to the police. Your mom’s files were very thorough. I even gave my own statement.” Zuko’s breath hitches. “I spoke out against my father. If this goes to trial, I’ll probably have to testify, I don’t know if I—“
He stops abruptly and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Even though I am reading over his shoulder, he dictates the text messages out loud.
“Noren says your dad and brother are at his house. And so is Uncle.”
“Not Noren,” I correct. “Ikem.”
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