Chapter 2
Sokka and Zuko had history class together last year.
On a particularly dreary day, their teacher made the unwise decision to leave the classroom unattended with strict instructions for her students to stay seated and complete a packet of busywork. Sokka took it as an opportunity to slip out from behind his desk and meander around. He found his way to the front corner of the classroom where Zuko sat, working diligently on a history themed word search.
“Heeey,” Sokka said, poking Zuko in the arm. He didn’t respond. Sokka poked him again, and again, and again. “Hey, hey, hi, helllooooo, Zukoooo, earth to Zuuukkkoooo, hey, heyyyyy--”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT!?” Zuko yelled at the top of his lungs, making every student in the classroom jump in almost perfect sync.
Sokka laughed. “There’s the good ol’ Zuko we all know and love. Why don’t you talk like that in class? It would make it so much less boring.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zuko spoke through gritted teeth. Every muscle in his body was tensed and near vibrating with fury. He really was too easy.
“Well, we all know that you’re a just a ball of rage disguised in a costume of pale skin and pointy hair--”
“My hair is not pointy!”
“--but when you answer questions in class, you’re all calm and collected. You even smile sometimes. Do you get possessed by emotionally stable aliens every time the teacher calls on you?” Sokka waggled his fingers in Zuko’s face and made some alien noises. Zuko swatted his hands down with unnecessary force, leaving pink imprints on his tan skin.
“The teacher wouldn’t pass me if I spent this whole class yelling as much as I want to.” Zuko looked forwards and closed his eyes. He took a breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. When he opened his eyes, there was an easy smile on his face. “This is what teachers want to see,” Zuko spoke with a voice that held both softness and assurance, respect and confidence. “You have to give people what they want, and they’ll give you what you want.”
Sokka whistled. “You could be a politician. Make the old man proud.”
Zuko’s face fell back to it’s natural scowl. “Who do you think taught me?”
Sokka left him alone for the rest of the class.
The interaction had popped back into Sokka’s head when he saw Zuko’s speech. Everything about him was so out of character, it was almost painful to watch. The unbothered smile. The soft eyes. Some well placed chuckles to lighten the mood. He made the whole incident out to be a stupid misunderstanding, not videographic evidence of child abuse. The speech was clearly written by a member of Ozai’s staff, or maybe Ozai himself, for Zuko to deliver. Sokka had gone to school with the guy for two years, and while they weren’t exactly friends, he knew Zuko didn’t talk like that. Ozai was a puppeteer, pulling everyone into the direction that would benefit him the most. You have to give people what they want, Zuko had said. The fire nation wanted justification for their leader’s actions. Ozia had given them that.
No wonder Zuko was so angry all the time.
Sokka put his phone face down on his pillow and sighed. He had replayed the video three times, and each watchthrough made him feel crappier. Food would help, he decided. Food always helped.
Katara and Hokoda looked surprised to see Sokka. Their gazes followed him as he made his way to the cereal.
“What’s with you guys?” Sokka pulled the lucky charms out of the cabinet.
“Did you finally learn how to set an alarm?” Hokota asked.
Sokka rolled his eyes. “Is it completely unbelievable that I’m capable of getting myself out of bed in the morning without someone waking me up?”
Katara answered without hesitation: “Yes.”
Sokka rolled his eyes again and poured himself a hearty serving of lucky charms. He took a seat next to his father and paused before speaking. “Hey, Dad, do you know Iroh? Ozai’s brother?”
Hokoda’s face lit up. “We met once, at some fundraiser for the school. He’s probably the kindest man I’ve ever met. Why?”
“Just wonderin’.” Sokka stuck a spoonful of milk and cereal and marshmallows—mostly marshmallows—into his mouth. He remembered Iroh instantly being able to identify him as Hokoda’s boy, despite the fact that they had only met once. He must have been one of those people who made a point to remember the people he interacted with, one of those people who genuinely cared. Sokka was glad that Zuko had at least one good person in his life.
Katara sat down at the table after pouring herself some cereal. “Did you see Zuko’s speech?”
Sokka nodded, stirring his bowl.
“Poor kid,” Hokoda mumbled. “He’s in your grade Sokka, right? Do you two ever talk?”
The ghost of a shaking body pressed itself against Sokka’s chest. He ate another spoonful of cereal. “Not really.”
Appa’s arrival was a little quieter today than it was yesterday, but not by much. Katara and Sokka called a goodbye over their shoulders to Hokoda and made the climb up Appa’s side to the saddle on his back. Aang yawned with cartoonish volume and gave Katara and Sokka a sleepy smile. “Morning.”
“You alright?” Katara scanned his face in concern. He was sporting some pretty intense under eyes.
“Yup, just a little tired.” Aang stretched and yawned again. “Me and some others at the air temple were up pretty late celebrating.”
“Celebrating, huh?” Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Whatdcha do? Throw a rager? Trash the place? Steal some bubbly from a mini fridge?”
“Even better!” Aang’s beam looked to stretch across his whole face. “We raced on our hand gliders and made s’mores!” Katara smiled while Sokka rolled his eyes.
Aang yawned again, and then said “Yip yip!” Appa let out a particularly bellowing roar before taking off. Toph, who was curled in the corner of the saddle, groaned.
“I had just gotten back to sleep,” she complained.
Sokka looked at her. “Did you at least throw a rager and trash the place and steal some bubbly from the mini fridge?”
“I wish. My mom and dad threw some stupid richy rich party with all of their richy rich friends. They were up laughing all night in that snobby way rich people laugh.” Toph let out an airy, high-pitched laugh that sounded a bit like a singing groundhog caught in barbed wire. “It made me wish I was deaf instead of blind.” Katara handed Toph her backpack to use as a pillow.
“Did you guys see Zuko’s speech?” Aang climbed from Appa’s head to the saddle. Appa had flown the gang to school so many times, he knew the way without instructions. Momo remained seated in the driver's position, perhaps to offer emotional support.
Katara nodded slowly. “It seemed really staged.”
“It was absolutely staged,” Sokka cut in with a bit too much vigor. “This is politics, Katara. Make scandal. Hide scandal. Scandal comes out. Justify scandal. Blah, blah, blah.”
Toph shifted against Katara’s backpack and mumbled “It’s the mansplaining for me.”
Katara looked down at the houses and streets passing below. “I hope Zuko’s okay.”
“He will be,” Aang said. “The monks always say that time can heal all wounds.”
“I’m not sure if Zuko’s face would agree with the monks on that one,” Sokka retorted. Aang’s jaw dropped. Katara glared. “Too soon?”
“Can you be any more insensitive?” Katara hissed.
Sokka leaned against the side of the saddle and crossed his arms over his chest, where he could still feel the wet of Zuko’s tears soaking through his shirt. His arms still ached from the pressure of not letting go. His heart still throbbed with an urgent desire to protect, protect, protect.
“‘Fraid not. I've exceeded the limit of insensitivity that’s allowed in one human package.”
Toph groaned and sat up, pushing Katara’s backpack away with her soleless shoes. “Your bag is a sucky pillow. Too many edges.”
“Those are books, Toph,” Katara said. “You know, for class?”
“Oh yeah. I forgot you actually go to class.”
“I really hope that’s a joke.”
“For your sake, it is.”
“Toph!”
“Hey, can you hand me the backpack? I’d rather sleep on a sucky pillow than have this conversation.”
Katara started lecturing. She didn’t stop when Toph put the backpack over her head to use as an ear muffler. She didn’t stop until Appa landed in front of the school.
Zuko didn’t go to school on Wednesday. He was too tired to obey his alarm. He had only fallen asleep about half an hour earlier, after getting back from delivering the speech. Uncle snuck in and turned the alarm off. When Ozia’s staff member came by to pick Zuko up, Uncle sent them away.
When Zuko re-woke on Wednesday around noon, Uncle was standing in the doorway with a tray of oatmeal and tea in his outstretched arms.
“I’m not hungry,” Zuko said.
Uncle sat at the foot of the bed. “Food is fuel, nephew. A malnourished body cannot be expected to guide the mind and heart through times of turmoil. At least try to eat?”
Zuko blinked. Uncle didn’t want Zuko to eat so he would look healthy for the press, he wanted him to eat so he would be healthy for himself. There were no sky-high expectations or standards to meet. There was just a bowl of oatmeal and some tea. The knot of anxiety in Zuko’s stomach unfurled itself a bit, leaving room for a pang of hunger. Zuko took the bowl and ate it clean.
Zuko planned to go back to school on Thursday. He woke when his alarm went off, got up, dressed himself, and had breakfast. He was standing in the doorway waiting for the staff member to pick him up when his heart started pounding in his ears. His breathing stopped coming easily. His vision ebbed in and out of focus.
Uncle took one look at him and told him to go back to bed. He would deal with the staff member.
Zuko went back to sleep. When he woke up, he decided it was time to face his phone. Ty Lee had called five times and left about a dozen texts. Mai had called once and sent a few texts. A few unfamiliar numbers had texted and called. Nothing from Azula. Nothing from his father.
The headlines concerning Zuko and his father were disorienting. #SaveZuko was treading on multiple websites. A rival hashtag was #BratBoy, primarily used by diehard Ozia supporters who blamed Zuko for hurting his father’s career. Old pictures from years ago were resurfacing and being analyzed with an absurd amount of thought. Someone had taken a picture of Ozia with his arm around Zuko at a christmas party, zoomed in on Ozia’s hand on Zuko’s shoulder, and circled some patches of whiteness on his knuckles. Below the picture was a paragraph about how the knuckles were whitened from the force of Ozai digging his nails in, which was obviously proof that Zuko was being hurt on a daily basis and needed to be removed from the household immediately. Zuko found a dozen posts like that in a fifteen minute span.
“Put your phone down, Zuko.” Zuko jumped. Uncle was standing in the doorway. Zuko hadn’t heard him come upstairs. “The internet is a strange and dizzying place. You don’t need to look at it, not right now. Come, let’s make some tea.”
On Friday, Zuko knew he had to go back. He hadn’t been absent for three days in a row since primary school. Plus, there was that victory party at Arnook’s palace tonight, and Ozia had made it very clear that Zuko was to be at his side for every party and gala and fundraiser. He couldn’t very well skip out on class now and show up to the party later.
Uncle asked about a million times if Zuko was really okay, to which he replied that yes, he really was. He wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, but either way he was going back today.
The staff member was standing in the Jasmine Dragon’s doorway at 5:30. He ushered Zuko into a small car with dark windows. They took secluded and winding roads to the house, and snuck Zuko in through the kitchen’s backdoor like he was some kind of traveling fugitive. Azula was standing in the foyer with her backpack on, looking disinterested as ever. She and Zuko strutted out through the front door side by side and were helped into the car by the driver, like they had been a million times before. Zuko looked out the window and took a deep breath. This was just another friday.
“Dad’s not happy.” Azula broke the silence about five minutes into the drive.
Zuko kept looking out the window. “Dad’s never happy.”
“You’re breaking the terms of the agreement.”
“How?”
“You were supposed to ride in and out of school with me every day. You’ve already missed two days.”
“I wasn’t feeling well.”
“That’s not an excuse. Not for us.”
She was right. Zuko couldn’t count the amount of times he had gone to school with the stomach bug, or she had gone to school running a fever.
“Well, I’m here now.”
“Do you really think you can keep this up?”
“Dad covered the tracks.”
“What if it comes out?”
“Then he’ll cover them again.” Zuko could still feel the glare of the camera flashes as he forced that horrible speech past the lump in his throat. It was a misunderstanding. He was teaching me a lesson.
“So, what, you live with Uncle now?”
“I guess.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.” Zuko was hoping it could be forever, but he didn’t want to hope for something that could be taken away. He had trained himself to expect the worse, so he was always either right or pleasantly surprised. Usually he was right.
“You’re leaving the people who need you.”
Zuko scoffed. “Dad only needs the image of me. He doesn’t need me.”
“I’m not talking about Dad. You’re leaving the people who need you.” Azula’s voice broke. “The person who needs you.”
Azula was crying, and Zuko had absolutely no idea what to do. He had only seen Azula cry three times in his life; once when she was a baby, once when she was thrown from the back of an eel hound, and once on mother’s day. Zuko had snuck downstairs to grab a cookie from the kitchen, and found Azula curled in the corner with a phone clutched to her ear. “She thinks I’m a monster,” she had sobbed. “My own mother thinks I’m a monster.” Zuko crept back up the stairs without saying a word. He assumed she had been talking to Ty Lee, but he didn’t know for sure. He never asked.
“You need me?” He repeated lamely. Azula choked on a laugh.
“I don’t have anyone else.”
“You have Ty Lee.”
“What?”
“She was there for you that one night.” Azula looked at Zuko, confusion filling her watery yellow eyes. “On mother’s day. You were on the phone, I… I don't know, I thought you were talking to Ty Lee.”
Azula’s cheeks pinkened. “You saw me?” Zuko nodded carefully. Azula sniffed and reached a hand up to wipe at her eyes, which hardly did any good. For every one tear she mopped away, two more took its place. “I wasn’t talking to Ty Lee. I wasn’t talking to anyone. That wasn’t even a real phone, dummy. It was one of those plastic phones that you give babies. Mom gave it to you. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You loved it for a week, and then you forgot about it because she gave something else, something better. She was always giving you things. She loved you. She never loved me. Nobody loves me. That’s why I only cry on toy phones, I don’t have anyone to call. I don’t have anyone. That’s why I need you.”
Zuko opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, watching his sister try and dry her tears. She turned her head towards the window so Zuko couldn’t see her. It didn’t take her too long to pull it together, but she still kept her face away.
It took Zuko about five minutes to gather enough will to speak: “I can’t come back.”
Azula remained facing the window. “I know.”
Zuko shifted in his seat. His sister’s vulnerability was palpable. It felt so wrong. He wanted to give something back. He wanted to help her in some way, do something to make up for leaving her. Not that anything he could say would be able to make that right.
“I… I cried in front of Sokka.” Azula said nothing, though the straightness touching her back indicated that she was listening. Zuko took a deep breath. He hadn’t been letting himself even think about what had happened with Sokka. The humiliation had claws that sunk deeper into his skin every time he gave it attention. He already felt like he was bleeding out. “I… I left class after that video was released, and… I don’t know, I think I started… Panicking? I found my way to a bathroom, and Sokka was there, and…” Zuko dug his fingernails into his palms and reminded himself that he had left Azula. He left her alone with Ozia. He owed her something. “He held me. He held me and I cried in his arms like a child.” Saying it out loud made it so much worse. It made it so real. Zuko felt sick all over. He wanted to transfer schools. But now that Azula knew, maybe she could help. She could concoct some intricate plan to keep them apart until they both graduated. It was definitely within the realm of her capabilities.
The car veered to a stop in the driveway. Zuko hadn’t noticed they were nearing the school.
Azula slipped out of the car and walked wordlessly towards the building. Zuko followed her. He pretended not to notice the stares, the whispers. He pretended that his stomach wasn’t a cave of buzzard wasps.
While most mornings at school whizzed by in a quick and confused fog, this one crawled on with cruel clarity. Zuko heard every click of the clock and tap of a shoe and rub of an eraser. Everyone was looking at him like some kind of wounded animal left out in the rain. He tried to be extra grumpy to compensate, but nothing seemed to work. Zuko’s reputation was altered and he didn’t know if it would ever go back to the way it was before.
It felt like a week's worth of time before a bell dismissed the students to lunch. Zuko almost didn’t bother getting a tray of food. It was Uncle’s words, not Zhao’s, that encouraged him to grab one and pile on some Mac and cheese and green beans. He certainly needed help guiding his heart and mind through these times of turmoil.
He sat down at his usual table without meeting Mai or Ty Lee’s eyes. He didn’t want to give them an opportunity to bring it up. Ty Lee figited. Zuko saw Mai shake her head out of the corner of his eye.
Azula started talking the second she sat down with her tray. “You know Ty Lee, I’ve been thinking about you.”
Ty Lee’s eyes brightened. “Really!? That’s so sweet! I always think about you, too!”
Azula smiled in a calculating manner that didn’t sit right with Zuko. “Zuzu pointed out in the car that you’ve really been a great friend to me over the years. Always there when I need you.”
Ty Lee looked on her way to tears. “Of course I’m always here. And I’ll always be here. Because you’re my best fr—“
“I thought it was high time I did something in return. You know, to show my appreciation.”
Ty Lee blinked. “You don’t have to do anything. Just being my friend is enough.”
“Don’t be silly. You deserve more than that.” Azula tapped her bottom lip with a long, manicured nail. “I know it’s late notice, but what about a date to the party tonight? They could come to dinner beforehand with us, and then whisk you off your feet on the dance floor.”
“Oh, I don’t need—“
“What about Sokka? You’ve had your eye on him for ages.”
A huge wave of nerves descended on Zuko. He stared at Azula, open mouthed. Years ago, their Dad had told them that if anyone ever saw you bruised, you needed to see them bleeding, even if you had to make the wound yourself. Zuko had seen Azula bruised in the car, and now she was going to make him bleed. She was going to bring Sokka to a place where Zuko couldn’t escape. And worse, tonight was going to be the first time since he left that he would see his father. That plus Sokka would make this the second worst night of Zuko’s life, second only to the night his father burnt his eye.
“Sokka is cute,” Ty Lee said slowly. “But, uh, we don’t really talk. I’m not sure how I would ask him. Especially on such short notice.”
“Allow me. This is my gift to you. For being such a great friend.”
Zuko could do nothing but watch helplessly as Azula stood up and walked over to Sokka's table. He was sitting in his usual seat, probably cracking his usual jokes. He and his friends were all smiling their usual smiles, which faded into surprise and confusion when Azula strolled over and pulled a chair up next to Sokka. Zuko looked down at his barely touched food and didn’t dare look back up until Azula came back
“Good news!” Azula spoke in a singsong voice. “Sokka is open to taking you, but he already planned to go with his little group of friends. So, we’re all going to go together.”
Zuko’s eyes darted up from his food. “That won’t work,” he said quickly. “Dad won’t allow it.” Zuko and Azula were both aware of their father’s disdain for the avatar. He didn’t need to say it for Azula to know what he meant.
“On the contrary,” Azula drawled out, “Dad would love it if we were seen with the avatar. He’s been getting some bad press lately,” she shot Zuko a pointed look, “and the avatar represents inclusivity and balance. This will be good for everyone.” Zuko bent his plastic fork until it snapped in half. Azula kept her smile. “In light of… recent events, they declined my offer of father hosting us for dinner, so we’re going to dine beforehand at the Beifong residence. Afterwards, the avatar’s bison will fly us to the party.”
“Um, alright!” Ty Lee smiled, though it looked a bit forced. “Thank you Azula, that’s so sweet of you!”
Azula speared a green bean and looked at Zuko’s tray. “Eat up, Zuzu.”