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“I don’t trust you.” The words slip from his chapped lips, and I can tell from the look on his face he had not meant to say them out loud.
I shrug. “Fine. You do not need to trust me. Write my name on the form and keep me around to satisfy the IASA.”
He shifts his weight, scowl deepening. “I deserve better than you,” he says roughly.
“I know.” I want to step closer to him, but I stop myself. “You are an incredible athlete. You always have been. I watched the film of your routine from the trials this year, and you were incredible. Almost perfect.”
“So then why—”
“You do not need me to tell you people are stupid, and narrow-minded. I imagine you have experienced it more times than I can ever imagine.” I feel my own anger, my own frustrated indignation on his behalf tightening between my shoulder blades. “I hear people talk. Your mother’s words are poison, Aleks, and some people in the sport listen to her.”
“Like you?” He throws the question at me, a direct challenge.
“No. Not like me.” I choose my words carefully, needing him to hear me, to understand that despite all of my shortcomings, for every human flaw I possess, hatred and bigotry are not among them. “You have every right to exist on your own terms and to compete as yourself, and you will find there are many others who agree with me.”
Aleks stares at me, his expression hard, and calculating.
“It would be an honor to coach you,” I say, and it is the truth. “Not because there is no one else, but because I think you deserve to be at the Clash.”
“Fine.”
I raise my brows. “Fine?”
The nod is clipped. “I mean, it’s not like I have a choice.”
I bite back a retort. He agreed to let me coach him. That is enough for today. “I will see you in Monstralia.”
He steps back into the apartment. “Stay out of my way.”
I grin, unable to hide my amusement. I try to cover it with my hand, but Aleks’ narrowed eyes show me I failed. “Safe travels,” I manage to say.
The last thing I hear before the door shuts is a muttered, “Fucking asshole.”
It takes me a moment to drag myself away from the door. In all the articles I read about Aleks Parthenope, they all used the same, blurry picture of a young man in a black hoodie with a shaved head, scowling at the camera.
The picture does not do justice to the man I just saw. It did not capture the eerie pale green of his eyes or the tiny expressions his mouth made when he listened to me speak. They miss the lean muscles of his arms and the effortless nonchalance of his posture.
Finally I walk away, even though there is a quiet, deep place in my chest telling me to stay.
Chapter 3
The Audacity to be Fucking Decent
Aleks
I’ve forgotten what international competition feels like.
The last time I was at the Clash of Creatures, I was sixteen and so full of repressed rage I only remember flashes of the experience. I remember the practices. I remember wanting to crawl out of my skin. I remember winning the silver medal for the ensemble, and the gold for the duet I did with my cousin Mira. I still have the medals, tossed in a box under my bed back in Soledad.
Now, at twenty-four, everything is different. My body is finally my own, and the relief it gives me is almost enough to make me forget I’m alone. It would be easier if Damian was here with me. Most of the space in my suitcase is taken up by the gaming console I packed so I can still play with my brother while I’m here.
The heat in Monstralia feels like home. I spent the short drive from the airport ignoring my surroundings in favor of scrolling through some of the latest articles written about me. Damian calls me a masochistic idiot for reading them, but I can’t stop. Even when it hurts, even when the comments are full of my dead name and the same sort of transphobic bigotry my mother believes in, I keep coming back.
It's an impulse, at this point. Maybe it’s the twisted fact that knowing people still care enough to rant about my existence is better than slipping into anonymity.
At least my phone is buried in my backpack now as I walk through the Clash of Creatures village. I light a cigarette, taking in my surroundings.
I pass all kinds of creatures walking through the village: minotaurs, fae, the unmistakable pallid skin of a vampire here and there. Some, like me, are in their human forms, indistinguishable from the humans who will be competing this year.
