The Highs and Lows of Highschool Football

Jinx couldn’t help but admit that she always had a way of surprising herself.

She collapsed on the inflatable mattress amidst the half-unpacked boxes on the apartment floor, reminiscing about the day. Her hair furled outwards from underneath her as she locked eyes with the dry plaster on the ceiling. Peeling.

When Jayce had, almost with an inconsiderate blindness, easily slid into the desk she’d been pining for, the flush on her face had boiled across her cheeks as she’d slunk to the shadows.

“Choose the pretty girl over your own friend, typical.” Viktor had sullenly muttered before he’d hobbled over to the last empty desks hidden in the back of the room, his leg brace squealing. As Heimerdinger ecstatically continued his lesson, Jinx slid into the final desk beside him, watching warily as he continued to glare at the pair in front of them.

“Are they like… a thing?” Jinx asked, her voice a hissed whisper, eyeing them with curiosity.

“I hope not.” Viktor’s voice, whether he attempted to hide it or not, was laced in spite.

Jinx glanced over to see Viktor seething, sketching some mechanical gibberish in his notebook, nothing like the notes on the board. “Whatchu working on?” Jinx leaned over as Viktor put a shoulder to her face to block her view.

“Nothing of your concern, you wouldn’t want to know.” 

“Bitch.” Jinx muttered, “After you practically toppled on me like a domino and crushed the air from my lungs, yeah, I think I would like to know!”

“Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the Professor?” Viktor quipped.

“I don’t know, should YOU be as well?”

Viktor sighed, “I keep to my word when I say I don’t show my projects to anyone, there are no exceptions. Unless you’re to join the Robotics club.”

Jinx’s face soured, “Robotics club? What do you think I am, an Incel? I can practically smell the B.O from here.”

“You’re stereotyping.” Viktor turned to her, journal abandoned as he defended his club with vigor, “Robotics, especially here at Piltover is exceptional! The annual competition brings together schools across the city, and evem some foreign ones as well. It’s a battle of wit, hard-work, innovation and…” Viktor glanced at Jayce, who was oblivious to the shameless flirting between him and Mel, “...focus.”

“You sound obsessed with this club, do you have any other ounce of personality? Other than gears and wires?”

“I’m the president,” Viktor deadpanned.

“That checks out.” Jinx eyed him up and down, “I shouldn’t be surprised, you encapsulate the whole ‘robotics nerd’ vibe, Mr. President.”

Viktor glared at her, before he looked down at his journal. He went back to scribbling nonsense, before, to Jinx’s surprise, ripped out a page and crumpled it. “What?” He asked, when he caught Jinx’s concerned stare.

Jinx leaned back in her seat, feeling the creak of the old wood beneath her, and studied Viktor more carefully. "You're real broody for someone who’s supposed to be a genius. What, you crumble every page you mess up or just the ones you can’t read?" Her finger mimicked the unintelligable handwriting that lay smushed in the crumpled paper in his hand, she looked like a sign-language interpreter on all sorts of substances.

Viktor paused, cradling the paper in his hand as though deciding whether to keep it or toss it into oblivion. Finally, he sighed and flattened it back out against the desk with a resigned hand. "It’s not about that.. It’s about perfection. There’s no room for mistakes in real innovation. A single flaw can destroy everything."

Jinx raised an eyebrow. "Real dramatic for a guy playing with gears and wires." She smirked. "What’s so dangerous about a few mistakes?" Her fingers drummed idly against her thigh, as her eyes almost glazed over as she lost herself in thought, "Life’s all one big chaotic mess anyway. No fun in trying to iron it all out. Some mistakes… slip under the radar." She began to chew the inner of her cheek, the brightness in her eyes dimming momentarily.

Viktor didn’t answer immediately. His eyes flicked toward the front of the room, where Heimerdinger’s pointer tapped rhythmically against a diagram that spiraled into mathematical complexity. Jayce snickered again at something Mel said, his perfect grin flashing as if it were pulled straight from a cheap teeth-whitening commercial. The sound made Viktor’s jaw tighten.

"Some of us," he muttered, "don’t have the luxury of making mistakes and still being given every opportunity in the world." He picked up his pen, eyes sharp now as he went back to sketching.

Jinx tilted her head, her interest piqued by the bite in his words. "Ah," she said slowly, "so it’s not just about the robots, huh?"

Viktor didn’t look up, but his hand stopped moving for a fraction of a second before resuming its furious scribbling. "It’s always about the robots," he said flatly.

She snorted. "Sure, sure. Definitely all gears and circuits in that grumpy head of yours. No grudges or insecurities rattling about in there." Her gaze drifted back to Jayce and Mel, "They’d make a good couple.”

“I know.” Viktor coldly stated, gritted teeth.

“You don’t want them to be together?” Jinx asked, tilting over to read Viktor’s face more closely.

“She’s a distraction, pulling Jayce in every direction possible. He promised me to help lead the Robotics team together, to finally pull through and win the Robotics competition this year, but it looks like he’s busy with other… priorities.”

“Wow, you don’t sound jealous at all.” Jinx grumbled, leaning back away from the stench of obsessiveness. 

“Jealous? Don’t be ridiculous.” Viktor began to furiously scribble even more into his journal, Jinx was afraid he might write his calculations into the desk with the force. Again, he gave an exhausted sigh and scrapped the paper, throwing it behind him. 

“Woah Mr President, what’s up? Are you going to flunk the class or something, can’t solve the problem? You need help counting your numbers?”

"I don’t need your help," Viktor snapped, but his voice cracked just enough to betray a flicker of something else— frustration, a temptation to give in and reveal his secretive scribbling. He pressed the pen harder against the paper until the tip tore through. With a groan of frustration, he crumpled the page again and tossed it aside.

Jinx plucked it up before it hit the floor, unraveling the mess of lines and symbols with curious fingers. "Hey!" Viktor protested, lunging halfway across the desk to snatch it back.

"Relax, it’s just scribbles," Jinx said, holding it out of his reach as she squinted at the intricate mess. "What is this anyway? Looks like a spider on caffeine had a seizure."

"It’s—" Viktor exhaled sharply. "A prototype."

"For what?"

"That’s top secret information." he said stiffly.

Jinx blinked, her grin widening. "What is this supposed to be, elementary? Why all the mystery?"

"It’s for Robotics," he began warily, trying to snatch the paper again, but Jinx swiftly moved it from his grasp, "Just a small equation, energy values and such."

"Cool, cool, cool, huh." Jinx muttered, tracing a half-drawn equation with her finger. "Well lookie here, your small equation got a BIG problem." She frowned, thinking. "It’s wrong. You forgot to carry the one in the third step."

Viktor froze, eyes narrowing. "What? That’s impossible."

She grabbed a pen from her pocket and, with a few confident strokes, adjusted the numbers. "There. Try running your feedback loop again."

He snatched the paper, eyes darting over the correction, and his mouth pressed into a thin line of disbelief. "You… you fixed it."

"Duh." Jinx grinned. "Told you chaos wasn’t all bad. Now, what’s this super-classified project?"

Viktor, the polite thanks that was loaded on his tongue dissolved, “Still not sharing.” 

Jinx noticed the soft creak of Viktor’s leg brace as he shifted, his movements stiff with discomfort. Her eyes sharpened, honing in on the mechanism without a word. Before Viktor could react, she crouched down beside him.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, a mixture of surprise and irritation in his voice as she balanced on her heels and examined the joint of the brace. He pulled his leg away, hastily looking around, eyes screaming for help to assist him away from the girl who swung his leg back to her face.

“This hinge is sticking,” she muttered to herself, ignoring his question entirely. “And… this rod is bent. Wow, that kid Jayce really bent it out of shape, didn’t he? How much does he weigh?” 

The accurate answer on Viktor’s tongue didn’t pass the gateway of his lips. With a deft hand, she pulled a thin metal tool from her pocket—an improvised pick she always carried—and adjusted the stubborn hinge with a quick flick. She tugged gently at the rod, straightening it with the perfect amount of torque.

“There. Should bend smoother now,” she said, leaning back with a triumphant smirk.

Viktor blinked, stunned by her audacity. “You—” He took a cautious swing, his leg moving more fluidly than before. The usual strain on his face eased slightly as he tested the brace again. His eyes widened. “It… it works better.”

“Of course it does,” Jinx drawled, twirling the makeshift tool between her fingers. “Gears, wires, metal? That’s child’s play. The tension was all wrong. I hope you weren’t planning to walk around with that squeak all day.” She grinned, tapping her temple. “Genius right here, Mr. President.”

Viktor’s mouth opened, then closed as he considered her with newfound curiosity. “You did that with… what is that even?” He pointed to the tool in her hand.

“Just a pick,” she said, shrugging, “It’s not about the tools, it’s about knowing how things fit together. The mechanics of it. Shouldn’t you know that, Mr President?”

“You’re full of surprises,” Viktor admitted, a trace of begrudging respect creeping into his voice. He straightened, the brace no longer squeaking with every movement.

Jinx raised an eyebrow, pleased by his recognition but not ready to show it outright. “Told you. Chaos has its uses.” She crossed her arms. “So, what do you say? Am I in?”

“In?”

“Robotics club, duh.”

He studied her for a long moment before a small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’ve proven yourself, I suppose. Welcome aboard.”

Jinx couldn’t contain her excitement as she pumped her fist, ”Yes! Now about that ‘prototype’—just hand it over so I can work my magic”

“Nice try.” Viktor smirked, a rare, mischievous gleam in his eye. He crumpled the paper one more time, holding it tightly in his fist. “Thursdays after school. Robotics room. Show up if you want to prove you’re more than chaos with a pick.”

“Thursdays, huh?” She arched an eyebrow,  “I’ll bring the chaos; you bring… whatever it is you bring.”

“Precision,” Viktor corrected, his gaze cool but amused. “Robotics is built on precision.”

His hand pocketed the corrected formula, the paper meeting the pocket that would usually be empty if it weren’t for the other dozen notes and scribbled he’d shoved into there.

“True innovation isn’t a spectacle,” Viktor said, standing with more confidence as his newly adjusted brace moved smoothly under him. His eyes, sharp and focused, met hers. “But chaos can be harnessed… sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” She grinned wide, stepping backward with her hands tucked behind her head. “Guess I’ll just have to surprise you again. See you Thursday, Mr. President, or should I say, Perfectionist?.”

Just then, the bell rung, and a twist in her stomach flipped, giving way to a slight passing of horror on Jinx’s face when she realized that, “Oh.. crap, I didn’t take notes.”

Jinx glanced nervously at Viktor before stuffing her empty notebook into her bag with a quick, shameful motion. The rustling of paper caught her attention as a neatly printed, meticulously organized set of notes slid into her lap. She blinked up at Viktor in surprise.

“What’s this?” she asked, holding up the pristine pages.

“The notes,” Viktor replied casually, adjusting his brace. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit of a Robotics nerd. I take notes ahead of time.” A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. “Not to brag, but mine are better than anyone else’s in the class.”

Jinx snorted as she zipped up her bag. “Suck-up.”

As they gathered their things, she found herself helping Viktor with his books, the small gesture feeling strangely natural. She hated admitting it, but as they walked out together, his steady commentary on mechanics, mathematics, and a heap of other nerdy nonsense filled the quiet void in her mind. A place she usually guarded with concrete walls. It felt like taking the swiftest breath of fresh air she’d had in a while.

She was disappointed to arrive home that day, to an empty apartment. She opened the fridge to find nothing but a half emptied six-pack of beer. Her hand reached for a can, mindlessly, before she recoiled it instantly, as if the very action burned her. Old habits, died hard.

Other than that addiction, there was nothing else in the fridge, and the pantry lay clouded in layers of dust, voided of any sort of snack.  Every step to her bedroom felt like dragging lead. By the time she collapsed onto the thin mattress, her body felt miles away, and the blank wall beside her head stared back with oppressive emptiness.The agonizingly plain wall made her hands itched for a marker. Perhaps a canvas, but why use that when there was a void of emptiness right above her head?

She could almost smell the paint from before—bright, bold, acid neon streaks covering the walls of that old hideout. He had indulged her whims, let her leave her chaotic signature across the dark expanse, buckets of paint delivered without question. Before… when she was with… Silco, he’d come by, quip a remark or two about her stylistic choice, and she’d beam at the appreciation. It was a rare occurrence. She had a feeling that Vander would lose his shit if she went around, scribbling on the walls of their rented apartment, like a spoiled, naughty child.

Her hand hovered over the bare wall.

Did Viktor know about her past? Would he flinch if he learned the truth? Piltover was supposed to be a fresh start, wasn’t it?

She clenched her fists, pressing her palm against her forehead as if to squeeze out the spiralling thoughts. It had been one day. One simple, stupid day. She hadn’t said or done anything that would set off alarms. No red flags. Not yet.

But then Heimerdinger’s voice replayed in her head, announcing her old name to the entire class like a gavel slamming down.

"Powder."

She whispered it aloud, her mouth twisting around the word like it belonged to someone else. Foreign on her own tongue. “Powder… Powder… Pow-Pow…” A bitter smile twitched at her lips. “Too bad she fell down a well.”

The air seemed to thicken around her, a chill settling on her skin.

She sat up, clutching her knees as the weight of memories pressed in, fragments of faces and moments slipping like sand through her fingers. Names lost meaning. Time muddled details.

And for a heartbeat, she wondered if she could even remember what it had felt like to be that girl.

But the thought passed quickly, banished as she shook her head and let her fingers curl into fists once more. Whatever ghosts lived in her past, she had no intention of inviting them into her present.

For now, all that mattered was cracking open that shiny set of notes Viktor graciously lended her.

And maybe—just maybe—proving she belonged somewhere after all.