The days following after were, for the most part, rather peaceful for Anya. Emily's track meets kept her from directly talking with Anya about their group project, and Anya had plenty of time to get her half done to meet standards. She spent more time with Siobhan, staying at the cafe after school to antagonize her friend on the job, and get free drinks. Maybe of things could continue this smoothly even after the big cross country meet was over, and Emily would be free to talk to Anya again.

Speaking of which, Emily had not said a single word to Anya following that afternoon in the locker room. In fact, she didn't seem to say anything at all. It was just...quietness. She never raised her hand in class, and she didn't talk with the other classmates. She was just...there. She never even stopped Anya to ask her how the project was going, just sending everything by email without much commentary.

Anya thought she'd feel relieved that Emily was less of a worry for her, but in reality...she felt bad. She didn't think it was possible, but Anya had almost certainly settled in the conclusion that she was 100% wrong about the girl, and was now starting to regret having hassled her over her alleged identity.

It wasn't like there was anything Anya could do to help that anymore, except just move forward, and leave Emily alone. No troubles there. Maybe once their project was done, they could avoid each other 100% until graduation hit, and they were free of each other. That would be a mutually progressive idea!

Mutal progression went right out the window Friday morning when the journalism teacher assigned Anya to report the district cross country meet.

"Call in sick, and you won't have to go," Siobhan had suggested to her with a shrug, helping herself to one of the cafe cookies. She was capable of getting away with stuff that would get a normal chump fired in a heartbeat.

"I would, but my mom would find out and ground me for faking," Anya had grumbled over her latte, "I just need to keep away from Leary."

"Ok, I think I'm suffering from Alzheimer's, so tell me again...what's your deal with her?" Siobhan sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter, glancing at her friend.

"It's a cats and dogs thing. Compatibility, y'know?", Anya sighed, not wanting to drag Siobhan into the whole ghost sh'bang. Though, with how much stuff the other smoked, it probably would make sense to her just fine.

"Compatibility? What, you gay for her?", she laughed, slapping her on the back playfully.

"Hell no!", she snorted, "She's my English partner!"

"You mean domestic partner?", Siobhan cackled, having too much fun getting a rise out of Anya.

"Ugh, you're a real help," Anya grumbled sarcastically.

"Oh come on, I'm just messin' with ya. So yeah, like, just a chick who gets on your nerves right?"

"Yeah. Just leave it at that," she sighed, "She's not weird in the class you have together, right?"

"Dude, I barely go to class," Siobhan laughed, stealing another cookie, scarfing it down, "And no. She's just like every other ween in the class, nothin' different."

"Ok," Anya mumbled, taking a long sip of coffee, "...will you come with me to the track meet? Just so I'm not bitching to myself?"

"I have work," Siobhan sighed, folding her arms.

"...Since when have you ever cared about being at your shift on time?", Anya asked with a sly smile.

"...since never!" Siobhan cackled, "Hell yeah, I'll come."

"Is it just me, or are these bleachers ice cold on the ass?"

"Wear thicker pants, Sib, I'm freezing just looking at you," Anya laughed as she readied her camera for the meet that was about to start. They were sat in the front row that was reserved for the journalists, only a few meters from the track itself. Close enough to smell the body spray and sweat.

"Russians don't freeze," Siobhan laughed as she poked Anya's arm, "Irish do."

"If the Irish didn't wear skinny jeans, they might fare better in the winter," she teased, looking out at the track, seeing the runners were about to line up. Anya saw Emily at the second to last relay checkpoint on the track, bouncing nervously on her feet, staring straight ahead as if she were trying to keep focus. She would have to receive the baton from Damien, and then relay it to Elizabeth, who would run to the finish line. Anya just hoped, for Emily's sake, she could focus on the sport itself, and not the fact her rejected crush would be passing to her.

Anya started up her camera several seconds before the starting shot was fired and the teams took off running. The rival track team were at least one second ahead, and Damien was sprinting as fast as he could to keep up. He was halfway towards Emily's checkpoint when one of his buddies, Michael, called out, "Hey Emily, if you stick around long enough on the checkpoint, maybe he'll give you a kissy!"

Emily's expression was more than enough to say she was not wanting that, and Anya could see the girl tensing up, hands starting to shake. Something in Anya broke loose, and she snapped, "You're a jerk, Michael!"

For a split second, Anya was feeling a sense of excitement, and even sooner was asking herself why the hell she just stuck up for Emily Leary. Maybe it was humility. Or maybe it was because this was the last meet of the season, and she'd feel a sense of pride writing the article stating that they actually won something.

If she heard the comment, Anya wouldn't know, but when she saw Emily's jaw clench in steely determination, she knew that shit was going to go down. And on camera.

When Damien's hand reached hers to pass the baton, she whirled around for a split second and gave him a surprise 'accidental' sucker punch before taking off like Speedy Gonzales, making tracks in half the time her stunned teammate had made. He was rubbing his jaw, wondering exactly what had happened.

Anya had seen the punch, and knew it wasn't an accident. She knew Emily wasn't going to get penalized for it if she made it look accidental, and the image of her getting sweet revenge on a crush without killing them was inexplicably hilarious to Anya. Well, it had to be, because that could be the only explanation for her hysterical laughter as she saw Emily speeding around the bend, and soon slapping the baton in Elizabeth's hand.

Even when Elizabeth crossed the finish line in first, when people cheered, when people chanted gleefully "Ham-Ham-Hamilton!", Anya's laughter had not ceased.

Siobhan asked her if she was absolutely sure she did not smoke anything before the meet.

Anya was glad she got journalist privilege of attending the end of season meet party that the 'track parents' hosted. Plenty of good food, and because parents had to attend, there wasn't going to be a lot of grubby slobs trying to pull a move on her.

Though, because it was parent monitored, they didn't really get to do much, aside from talk and eat. And she really wasn't up to party chat with people she hardly knew, aside from Elizabeth and Emily.

Speaking of which, she had barely seen the girl during the party, and decided to ask Elizabeth nonchalantly where she was. Elizabeth pointed to the back patio where a couple other athletes were, seeing Emily sat in a corner lounge seat, looking out at the evening sky.

Awkwardly, Anya got up, and went outside, sitting a few spaces away from the other, and decided to say coolly, "I got some more stuff done on our project."

Emily glanced up, "Oh...uh...great..."

"...so...congrats on winning the track meet. And for scoring the best individual time," Anya awkwardly praised, feeling very weird congratulating the girl she'd been hounding on since the beginning of the year.

"Thanks," Emily mumbled, picking at a hangnail, looking at her hands, "I hope I don't get in trouble though."

"Huh? Why?," Anya asked, reaching for a soda that was in a nearby cooler.

"I punched Damien at the meet."

"Really?", Anya was playing dumb, "I swear that looked like an accident. Everyone thought it was."

"Oh...well it wasn't. Think I should come clean?"

"Nah, you're off the hook. Damien's a jerk anyway. Why'd you even crush on him?"

"I dunno," Emily admitted shyly, "I just seem to fall for the wrong guys."

"We all make that mistake," Anya sighed, "Trust me. It's a bitch of living, but it's only human."

"Yeah, I guess so," Emily admitted, "I'm tempted to swear off boys until I'm wrinkled and have nothing to lose but my teeth."

"That's the spirit," the freckled girl snickered, taking a long sip of her drink, "I've been doing that for the last few years."

"Oh. Holding up ok?"

"Fantastic," Anya snorted, and Emily gave a reserved giggle, reaching for her own soda, and opened it. Tasting it, she grimaced, "Ugh, grape. I hate this stuff."

"No kidding? I love it."

"I got colds all the time when I was little and had so much grape flavored medicine, I've hated anything grape flavored except actual grapes," Emily muttered, and glanced at Anya's drink, "Pass me that lemon stuff."

Handing her the soda, Anya kicked back, "How different is Iowa from here?"

"So far, not too much. We had pretty average weather in my area," Emily shrugged, taking a long sip of her lemon soda, looking relieved and refreshed from its taste.

"Well get ready for hell freezing over. The winters here get miserable. Snow and snow, and wait for it...snow."

"I could stand a little snow," the owl-eyed girl smiled, "It looks so clean and pure."

"It ain't so pure when your car is stuck in it," Anya laughed, "Or you slip and break your ass on the driveway. Or freeze."

"I have heavy winter clothes," Emily informed, "I'll live."

"Yeah, I know. I see you walk to school with that huge jacket. How do you even see out of that thing?", she laughed.

"Good question," she giggled, and both girls began to laugh harder.

Their chatter went on longer, and even when the party simmered down, and most people had left, they were still in each other's company.

Anya didn't mind it at all.