Like Nobody's Watching

prologue: marinette

One Year Ago

"What is that trash?" I freeze, bent over my sports bag, rummaging through for my ballet shoes. I'm still in my warmup clothes - loose-fitting gray sweatpants, a t-shirt with Princess across the front in pink calligraphy, and sneakers. My ballet outfit is draped over the chair next to me, a simple pink leotard with lilac embroidery. I created it myself, and I know exactly who's critiquing it.

Taking a deep breath, hands closing around the ballet slippers, I straighten and turn to face Chloe Bourgeois, one of the people that I despise most in all the world. Her blonde hair cascades down from a high ponytail, her cruel eyes sparkle behind designer shades, and all the makeup in the world can't cure the ugly smile smeared across her narrow face. "It's my outfit for practice. I designed it myself."

"Oh, I can tell," Chloe sneers. "Those rags could only be your handiwork, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. My ballet outfit is designer - Daddy bought it for me. All of my things are designer and incredibly expensive. But then, you wouldn't know a thing about that, would you?" She laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder and knocking my outfit into a crumpled heap with a careless swipe. I bend to retrieve it, but someone gets there first.

"Nice threads, girl! You made these, you said?" The voice belongs to a girl I've never seen before. Her hair is an dark auburn, her orange-brown eyes glow behind square glasses, and her brown skin stands out in stark contrast to her loose white shirt and baggy pale blue pants. She has a hat haphazardly hanging off her head, a bag slung over one shoulder, and a phone in her other hand.

"Y-yeah. I design most of my outfits, and the outfits for this studio too," I say. Chloe sniffs.

"Which explains why they're all trash. I'm Chloe Bourgeois - you know my father Andres Bourgeois, the mayor? That girl is none of your business." She extends a perfectly manicured hand; the new girl ignores it.

"Sorry, but I have a policy of not being friends with stuck-up bitches. And you fit all the criteria! Too bad, so sad," the girl drawls with a sarcastic wink. Chloe gasps, affronted, before flouncing away to the other end of the locker room. The new girl shakes out my leotard and hands it to me.

"Thanks so much. I could never stand up to Chloe like that," I say earnestly. "I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I take ballet. You?"

"I'm Alya Césaire, I take hip-hop and modern," she laughs. "Should've known you'd be a ballet girl. But your designs are amazing! You really create all the outfits for this studio?"

"For the performances, yeah. I get a special discount on the fee since I do, and I make most of them as well. The only downside is that I'm stuck in a class with Chloe, but this also happens to be the studio where he practices, so I can put up with her." My voice becomes dreamy and distant.

"Who's he?" Alya asks.

"Adrien Agreste," I sigh, pulling out the piece of paper I keep in the inside pocket of my bag. It's a photo from a magazine, showing Adrien in mid-leap during one of his performances. "My dream is to become a prima donna ballerina so good that I get to star in a performance with Adrien."

"Sounds fun," Alya laughs. "Hey, you wanna grab a smoothie or something after class? Mine lets out at 6."

"Mine's 5:45 - I'll wait on the steps for you!" I say. We high five, and I can already feel a friendship brewing.

On the way to the café, Alya suddenly stops, groans, and smacks her forehead. "Man, I totally forgot! The dance-off is tonight! I won't be able to go!" She scrolls hurriedly through her phone before sighing in relief. "Oh, thank God - it's tomorrow, not today. I thought I was gonna miss it, I can't do that!"