It was the summer before she entered middle school. Every morning, Adora rushes to swallow her breakfast, jumps on her bike and rings the doorbell of Catra’s house, a few blocks away.
Her mother opens the door and cries out when she sees her : “Catharinaaa ! It’s for you !” Catra comes down the stairs, with disheveled hair and sleepy eyes.
“Hey Adora”, she says while scratching the back of her head. They jump on their bikes and rush under the blinding sun.
Catra always has ideas to entertain themselves. She’s bold and quick and isn’t afraid of anything. Walking on her hands, climbing on top of a tree, stealing apples from the old farmer’s orchard, she always has new tricks up her sleeve to boast.
Her legs are covered with bruises, her knees and elbows always have some scrapes on them. She often shows Adora the faint scar on her left temple, and the other one, even smaller, at the back of her heel, obviously proud of it.
Tomboy, daredevil, unruly, insolent, these are the things other people call her. But to Adora, she’s just Catra, her only best friend.
The surrounding coutryside becomes their playground. There are the pastures where the cow graze, the clearing spotted with poppies and the small wood where they venture into when the weather gets too hot.
In her backpack, Adora carries a steel flask, a sandwich she tears in half at noon to share with Catra, the fruits her mother forces her to take and a comic book they read together, after lunch, sitting on a tree branch. At first, Adora was scared to climb trees, but Catra, nimble like a cat (after all, she WAS half cat!) showed her how to do it.
She extends her hand to help her and tells her : “don’t worry, I’m here to catch you”. Adora looks at her : her eyes, one blue, one yellow, are kind and encouraging and she suddenly feels a blush creeping up her cheeks without knowing why.
On her bike, Catra is smiling in an intriguing way.
“What’s up with you ?”, asks Adora, puzzled and excited.
“You’ll see”, answers Catra, and her grin grows even wider.
Once she sets foot on the ground, Catra reaches for her pocket and takes out a big pair of red scissors.
“What do you want to do with that ?”, asks a perplexed Adora.
Catra laughs and her pointy teeth catch the sun.
“What do you think ? You’re gonna cut my hair, dummy !”.
Catra’s hair is long and wild, a cascade of thick dark curls falling down her back. It was always something Adora has admired, even envied. Her own hair is much more tame : straight and blond, easily disciplined in a neat ponytail.
“Are you sure about that ? Your mom is gonna scold you...”. Adora feels hesitant. Catra’s mom is...scary. And Catra’s stories about her mom are even scarier. In the past, she has had to confort her friend several times after something really bad had happened. Plus, she likes Catra’s hair a lot.
Her friend frowns and scoffs, drawing out her claws in what seems like an unvolontary reflex.
“I don’t care about her ! I can do what I want. Besides, she already hates my long hair. She keeps complaining about how it’s bushy and ugly...”
Adora feels a sharp pang in her heart : a weirdly painful sensation mixed with something else she doesn’t quite have the words for. Before she can think, she hears her own voice, which surprises her by how desperate it sounds :
“It’s not ugly ! It’s beautiful !”
She feels immediately embarassed : her cheeks starts to burn and she tries to contain her blush.
Why does she have to have such pale skin, Catra is gonna notice and make fun of her again ! But Catra doesn’t make fun of her : her eyes go wide and her face seems to slightly darken, or maybe it’s just Adora’s imagination. For a few seconds, she’s at loss for words but then she looks away, shaking her head and biting her lower lip.
“Whatever. You’re weird. Like I said, I don’t care. Now take the damn scissors and cut it”, she says.
Catra puts the scissors in Adora’s hands, takes off her shirt in a swift movement and sits on a tree stump bordering the clearing. The sun is blinding her and she blinks. Under the summer light, her black hair takes on blueish hues. Adora’s hand trembles above her friend’s glorious mane.
“So are we doing it for real ?”, she asks, although she already knows the answer. She just can’t believe it’s really happening.
“For real”, answers Catra with a ferocious joy in her voice. But then she lifts up her head towards Adora with a really soft, almost vulnerable expression and the blond girl feels a quiver in her chest. Her best friend is really pretty. Her left eye is all golden under the sun and the right one is bluer than ever. Adora feels her excitation, her anticipation, in an organic, physical way, as if they were connected.
She runs her hand through Catra’s hair : her mouth goes dry and she feels like her heart just jumped a little in her chest (which is really weird). The first snip feels solemn and emotional. The two girls keep a respectful silence for a few seconds. And then the locks are flying around them and they are both erupting in fits of laughter.
“Let’s pretend I’m Joan of Arc”, claims Catra in an exalted voice.
“Oh my dashing knight”, purrs Adora in a mocking tone, “But I am Joan of Arc !”
“No you’re not !”, returns Catra while she jumps on her and they roll on the ground, bodies enterwined, laughing and howling like crazy devils.
About an hour later Adora is done and gazes at the nape of Catra’s neck, now vulnerable to sunburn. It’s not perfect, but she has done her best, and she’s proud of herself. Catra runs her hand through her newly short hair.
“Wow, I feel so light.” she says. Then she springs on her legs and runs towards the stream to see her reflection in the water. Adora hears her giggling with joy. She quickly crouches, picks up a strand of dark hair lying on the ground and puts it in her pocket.
With her new hair, Catra looks just like a boy. To the rare people they run into, the illusion is complete. Catra knows it and enjoys it very much. Adora contemplates the short curls framing her friend’s delicate features and she feels proud to be the one who cut her hair. The new haircut suits her beautifully. An old woman passes by and adresses them a warm smile, her eyes twinkling a little.
“Do you think people think we’re a couple ?”, Adora whispers in Catra’s ear, excitation piercing through her voice, “you know, since they think you’re a boy ?”. Catra freezes, her cheeks turn pink. She quickly removes her hand from Adora’s, even though they hold hands all the time.
“Th… That’s ridiculous !”, she stammers, and Adora thinks she’s cuter than ever with her new pixie hair.
Her mother was scandalized when she came home yesterday, Catra tells her. She scolded her, screamed, and even cried a little.
“Can you believe that she started saying that I was so much prettier with long hair ? She was the one always complaining about my hair ! She says it’s a waste. That she doesn’t know what she’s going to do with me, that I’m going to be in middle school next year and that I can’t be a tomboy forever, or boys aren’t going to like me. Like I care !”. Catra sounds bitter and distressed and Adora wishes she knew what to say. She awkwardly reaches for her friend’s shoulder, but her hand weakly falls at her side before she can touch it.
“I think your new hair is really cool”, says Adora, quietly. “You don’t listen to her, right ?”
“Of course, not !” , replies Catra sharply, slightly offended her friend could have though otherwise. “But it hurts anyway”, she adds, turning her head away. She stares at the ground while fiddling the edge of her t-shirt. Adora’s heart tightens with pain.
If only she knew what to say ! If only she could tell Catra again and again that she’s perfect just as she is, that she never wants her to change.
“Sometimes”, says Catra gloomily, “I hate being a girl”.
When Adora hears these words, her head goes empty and she suddenly feels very sad.
“Me too”, she answers softly.
Straddling an oak branch, her face covered with freckles, Catra bites in a plum and looks at her. Something heavy is dancing in her gaze. The plum’s juice trickles down her chin and drips on her white t-shirt. A sun ray falls into her left eye, but not into the right one. She extends her hand with the fruit in it, her eyes still on her. Adora looks at her, feeling hesitant.
“Take it”, quietly says Catra. The plum is sticky and warm in Adora’s hand. She examines the fruit’s flesh, in which Catra sinked her teeth. She takes it to her mouth and bites in it. Her teeth bumps against the stone. The fruit is sweet.
Once, Adora spends the day with Lonnie. Lonnie is a good friend. She has promised her they would see each other during the summer. They go to the pool together and they have fun.
The next day, when she picks up Catra, her best friend harshly asks :
“Where were you yesterday ?”
“Oh, I was with Lonnie. You know, like I told you last week.”
Catra’s whole body tenses up as she retorts : “No you didn’t tell me !”
“I’m pretty sure I did” , answers Adora, “I went to the pool with her. Since you’re afraid of water, you wouldn’t want to come with me anyway.”
“I’m not afraid of water ! I just don’t like it ! Go away if you just came to make fun of me ! Go have fun with your new best friend Lonnie ! ”. Catra pushes her away and slams the door to her face.
Later, Adora manages to find her, curled up in a tree. She carefully climbs it and sits next to her friend. She has visibly been crying and Adora, affected, tries to pass her arm around Catra’s shoulders. Catra gently pushes her away, averting her gaze in embarassment.
“You’ll always be my best friend, Catra. Always”, says Adora, softly. Catra turns to her and the intense expression of pain in her eyes startles Adora.
She grabs both her hands as she says in an almost agonizing way : “You should stay with me Adora… She’ll never understand you like I do.”
They don’t talk again about what happened. Things are back to normal, or so it seems. When Adora shows up on Catra’s doorstep the next day, she’s already awake and waiting for her. She shoots her quick glances and somewhat awkward little smiles. But apart from that, she behaves as she does usually, vibrant, energetic and daring.
They play near the stream and the heat gets so suffocating that even Catra wants to dip her feet in the water. Adora admires the water shimmering around her friend’s bronze ankles.
“Hey, Adora ! Come !”, calls Catra with a bright smile. Adora runs towards her but slips on a wet rock. She extends her hands to cushion her fall. The water splashes around her and she feels the pain burn her palms as the wave of shock echoes in her body.
“Adora !”, cries out Catra, rushing towards her, “are you okay ?”. Her face is suddenly very close. She can see three iridescent drops of water clinging to her eyelashes.
“I cut myself », answers Adora flatly. She shows Catra her scratched palms, her bleeding wrist. It hurts a lot and she feels her eyes water but she does her best to stay brave.
“You have to lick the wounds, declares Catra, it disinfects”. And without leaving her any time to react, she grabs Adora’s wrist and brings it to her mouth. It feels weird, it feels warm, it feels wet. It’s soft. She wants to tell a joke but can’t bring herself to speak. She is overflowing with emotion and she can’t explain why.
Today they have both woken up at dawn and ridden their bikes to a nearby lake. The scene is gorgeous. The sun is radiant and the surface of the lake is glistening like a mirror. Near the water, weeping willows are gently swinging their melancholic branches, and it seems to Adora that they really got a mind of their own.
She turns to Catra and smiles to her : “See, I told you it would be worth it to get up early ! Nobody else to bother us !”.
Catra glares at her, but she can see that she’s amused : “I can’t believe you made me get up at 6 during summer break. You’re such a nerd.”
“Don’t be grumpy, we can nap later if you want !”, replies Adora as she starts to sprint, “first one at the lake gets to decide which game we play !”
“Don’t cheat !” screams Catra as she dashes behind her.
They play without interruption all morning. They become pirates, knights, selkies. They are spies, rebels in a war. They are mortal enemies and fight to death. (For some reason Catra loves playing the villains). When the weather gets too hot, they hurry under the weeping willow’s shadow and eat their sandwich. Once satiated, they lie together on the grass, their arms brushing.
The branches around them feel like a big tent, overflowing with light. They both look at the sky in silence. At the bottom of her heart, Adora feels a voice soaring : “This is perfect happiness. You’ll never be happier”. She tightly closes her eyes as to retain the moment.
“Adora… We’ll be together next year, right ?”
Catra glances at her, biting at her bottom lip.
“Of course ! Why wouldn’t we ?”
“I don’t know… Because of middle school I guess...”
“You’re my best friend. It won’t break us apart.”
“You promise ?”
Adora turns to her side and looks into Catra’s eyes : “I promise.”
Adora wishes this moment would never end but Catra stands up. She wants to climb on top of a tall, weird looking tree.
“I’m gonna do it faster than ever !”, she claims.
“Be careful”, says Adora, an unexplained feeling of dread welling up in her stomach, “I don’t think you should rush, it could be dangerous.” Catra turns towards her, her mismatched eyes gleaming with excitation. She laughs heartily. Under the summer sky, she is radiant, utterly beautiful. Her short hair gracefully curls on her forehead and Adora notices more than ever the tiny specks of green in her eyes. During the summer, the freckles on her face have multiplied like Liliputian suns.
“Don’t worry, dummy”, she tells her with a smile, and Adora feels her gaze on her, warm, confident, with a veil of tenderness around : everything she loves about her friend. Then Catra jumps at the tree trunk and quickly disappears in the foliage.
It’s the last time Adora sees her smile. Catra never came down from the tree, full of herself after her feat. Adora could talk about the tight feeling in her chest, the insane worry that overcame her when she heard a loud crack.
How she screamed her name, how she cried and threw up her half of the sandwich on the grass. How she blamed herself. But words cannot tell that.
On her grave, her first name is Catharina. But to her, she will always be Catra, only Catra : her very best friend.
The truth is, this is not how the story really ended. Catra never falled from that tree. She came down on the ground without a scratch and they runned, wrestled, laughed, shared secrets and rode home together on their bikes. That night, Adora fell asleep with a smile on her face as she remembered this beautiful day. The next morning, Catra was telling her the news : due to her mother’s job, she was moving far away.
The story about the tree was just something Adora made up because she felt too much grief. She remembers the last time she saw Catra. They were together in her empty room, in her empty house, with their empty hearts. Outside, the car was waiting for her to leave. Adora was crying and Catra was looking at her with something torn in her eyes.
“Please don’t cry”, she said in a low, quivering voice, on the edge of tears herself, “we will find each other again, I’ll find you wherever you are, I promise, and I’ll write you letters, I’ll call you on the phone !”. But Adora kept crying : they would not go to middle school together, they would not have the summer skies, the glorious treetops and the diaphanous lakes only for the two of them again.
The setting sun was bleeding in the sky. The angry voice of Catra’s mother ringed in their ears : it was the last time she called before leaving without her.
Catra looks at her with ardent intensity. Her eyes are burning and Adora feels held in her gaze. Her best friend grabs her hands and squeezes them. Catra, Catra, Catra, she leans in and hastily kisses her on the mouth. They stand still for a few seconds, eyes locked together, hearts thumping loud, before Catra lets go of her hands and flees down the stairs.
Adora rushes behind her, but she’s too slow, she has always been. The car pulls away and the sun is setting.
This is what really happened : this is the story of her first love.