MARINETTE

"Yes, Maman," I say into the phone tucked between my shoulder and ear as I fix another stitch on my pant suit that I am planning to wear in a few hours.

It is around six in the morning already and I have been working since five. Maman called half an hour ago and hasn't stopped nagging me since.

"Don't just say 'yes' to me without thinking!" She bites into the call and I flinch due to her loud voice.

I roll my eyes and pull the thread on the cloth of my coat with my needle. "Maman, do you really have to be this loud so early in the morning?"

"Marinette, how could I not be mad when Nordic is going down in popularity?"

I let out an audible sigh and leave the needle and thread hanging from my coat. I rub my forehead in distress. "I'm working on that..." I mutter.

My parents are die-hard Nordic followers and when they found out that I took the job as his campaign manager, they went nuts. The good kind.

They give me the guidance in some decisions that were too hard to tackle with my co-workers and they are never short in praising me when Nordic is granted a more positive outlook from the public due to a project or platform I headed in formulating.

But when things go downhill, like that bowtie incident that happened four days ago, my parents would go berserk. They were ready to fight anyone who went against Nordic and they were always nagging or scolding me for letting such an incident happen.

Since that incident, Maman would be calling me so early in the morning to ask about the 'gameplan' for the day. Being the lovely (and only) child that I am, I would tell her everything from tge start until end of my schedule. And with each event, she would play devil's advocate. She would give me scenarios where things could go wrong and then wait for me to give my answer as to how to handle it.

The first time she did that I told her that she was overreacting.

"ALWAYS EXPECT THE WORST, MARINETTE!" She immediately shouted that time. And I swear, I wouldn't want to test or question her patience ever again.

I'm happy that her early morning call did not act as my alarm today since I got up earlier than expected to work on my attire for Mister Nordic's visit to the current president later.

"So he is going to visit the president later?" She asks into the phone. Apparently, her sudden spew of anger has died down a bit.

"Yeah," I reply, "I prepared everything for today, including the attire of Mister Nordic. I've also thought of a way to boost his popularity again. I hope you can trust me with this."

I hear her sigh through the phone. "I will always place my trust in you, Marinette. I may be really nagging, but know that above anything else, we are proud of you."

I smile and clutch onto my phone tightly. A sob builds up in my throat and my eyes start to well up with tears. "Thank you..." I muster to say and wipe a stray tear falling down my face.

I haven't seen my parents since the campaign period started. I moved to an apartment on my own and I made sure that no one would know what my parents look like and their names. My job is dangerous if it is thought in a different perspective.

I miss them, dearly. And I know that they miss me as well.

"You take care of there," I choke out then clear my throat. "I can't wait to see the two of you again. Take care of the bakery as well. I love you."

"You take extra care of yourself. We love you too, Marinette." Maman says back and I end the call.

I throw the phone on my bed and it lands face up on my pillow. I let out a heavy sigh and wipe all my tears away.

"Okay," I breathe out and inhale a deep breath then let it out, exhaling slowly. I narrow down my eyes and bring out two fists. "You're a bad bitch, Marinette," I whisper in motivation, "Life is a competition, and I have no choice but to compete in it every day."

Finishing up my lasting stitches, I fix myself and put on my blazing red pant suit that I made for this specific day. A get-together with the president...this doesn't happen every day. If I ever went back seven years and told my past self, who was still figuring out if I should take Fashion Design or not, that I would eventually graduate with a degree in Political Science and become the main campaign manager of a presidential candidate...I would consider myself crazy and unsuspecting.

But that's how life really is. Not only is it a competition, it is full of crazy and unsuspecting experiences.

------------

"Hey, Alya."

"Girl!" She greets me back on the phone, "Sorry, that I'm calling you now. You texted me to call you once I wake up. What's up?"

I am sitting in the front seat of the van that is taking us to the home of the current president. Seated at the back are the rest of team who were either trying to sleep or talking with each other. We all have the jitters with the mere fact that we're going to see the president. Mister Nordic is in another van that is driving in front of us.

I let out a soft chuckle and grab my file folder from my tote bag and place it on my lap. I grab a click pen from my pocket and turn my attention towards the phone again. "I have this really huge favor for you."

"Okay, shoot."

"I know you're aware of that bowtie incident with Nordic and Byvael that happened a few days ago," I start.

"Hmm," she hums. "I think I know where this is going."

"It could just be a short article about it," I continue, almost sounding like I am pleading. "Please write an article that will portray a different perspective on what happened that night."

"What you're trying to say is that you want me to write an article that would show favor towards Rustan Nordic?"

"But at least try not to make it sound like you were forced to write it that way?" I ask, crossing my fingers in hopes of her accepting my favor.

I hear her sigh on the phone and murmur incoherent words under her breath. "You know I wouldn't say no, right?" She says after some time.

"Yes!" I cheer quietly on the phone. "I knew I could count on you."

"Yeah, yeah," she drawls out. "I'm not a political writer for nothing. I also do believe that the public should see a different side to what happened that night."

"I owe you a lot, girl."

"Just promise me that we'll have another night-out when you have your free time."

"Deal."

"But!" She continues and I let out a small groan.

"But what?"

"You need to bring a guy with you and another guy for me."

"Alya!" I shout in a whisper and cover my mouth with my hand when I continue, "I won't do that!"

"Then no article-"

"Fine!" I interject and frustratingly pinch the bridge of my nose. I could imagine her smirking on the other line. "I hope you're aware that it's hard to find a guy now."

She lets out a loud laugh and I roll my eyes out of annoyance. "Take Adrien with you," she simply suggests.

"No," I seethe out, "I will never take him."

"Why not?"

"Because he literally is my political enemy, Alya," I retaliate, "I will not even think of being in the same room as him." The thought of it makes me gag.

"Oh, come on! You talk like as if he has been your enemy since birth. Are you forgetting that three of us were coursemates back in university?"

I sigh heavily and look out the car window, watching how the landscape before us has changed. We are near our destination already. "Alya, you were my only friend back in university..." I say in a whisper.

Before I knew Adrien Agreste as my archenemy, I knew him as one of the loudest yet friendliest people in campus. Though he never meant any harm, I always found him to be intimidating. And now that we are in opposing sides, I see that he is also sly and cunning - he knows what he wants and he knows that he get it.

But to be honest, I never expected that it would be him who would eventually head the campaign of the opposing party. From all people, it had to be someone I knew from university.

"I know, that's why I'm doing this favor for you," Alya speaks into the phone, "Don't think about that night out for now. You have a lot of campaigning to do."

I grin and write down a footnote on a piece of paper that has my schedule printed on it. "Will your article be ready in two days?"

She scoffs loudly. "I can't believe you think too lowly of me. I have nothing else to write for now so your article will be ready in a day."

"You're the best," I tell her with appreciation laced in my voice. "I'll go ahead now. We got a busy day ahead of us."

"I'll call you when the article is done! Bye, girl!"

I say good-bye for one last time before ending the call. I place my phone back in my bag and zip it close once we enter through the gates that lead us to the president's household. Following my breathing exercise of five deep breaths, I do it for some time until I feel lighter and more calm than anxious moments before.

"Miss Marinette," the driver calls out softly to me, "we're here."

It is a huge bungalow. The outside is surrounded by a back lawn and trees on the other sides, and the inside gives a rustic feel with the neutral colors of the furniture and objects used for decoration.

This is not where the president spends most of his time. This is, in fact, his resthouse which is not always seen by the public. It is an honor to even step foot in this house.

"Marinette."

My ears perk up once I hear Mister Nordic softly say my name. "Yes, sir?"

Mister Nordic throws a wary look at one of the bodyguards of the president who is leading us to the living room. I move closer to Mister Nordic, sensing that his next words must only be heard by me.

"What happens if the president asks about that incident with my bowtie?" He asks in a whisper, "What should I say?"

A smile grazes my lips and I reply, "Don't think too much about it, sir. Face it with a positive disposition and say that it was a playful way of practicing camaraderie with a fellow candidate. And I think Aaron Byvael did not take it to heart. He actually treated it lightly."

"Thanks, Marinette. I could always count on you." He smiles back.

My smile, though, falters as worry begins to creep up in me again. And I know that Mister Nordic is worried about a lot of things too. Even the rest of my team, who is following us from behind, is worried.

We all have our worries with this election period. We know that we are not the strongest candidate in terms of popularity and that is a huge downside. Although I know we have great platforms, popularity and personal connections are a must in the world of politics. This is like high school all over again, but in a bigger and dirtier world.

"Sir," I begin, "I also think-"

"Well, isn't it my favorite person, Rustan Nordic!" A loud voice shakingly interrupts me. The voice vibrates among the walls of the hallway surrounding us. 

Mister Nordic, my team, and I stop in place once we spot the opposing party standing a few feet across from us. I wanted to lash out in anger and frustration with the situation at hand. I was never told that this is a get-together with Byvael!

"Aaron!" Mister Nordic forces out and smiles at the younger man, walking forward to shake his hand.

Byvael lets out raucous laugh and shakes back with much vigor. "Boy, am I glad to see you! And look at me, I'm dry already!" He laughs once again while Mister Nordic forces out one.

"I'm truly sorry for that night. I never meant to-"

Byvael interrupts Mister Nordic with a wave of a hand. "No need for an apology! We all took it lightly!"

"Yeah, but it only boosted your popularity," I grumble under my breath. It's good no one heard a word I said.

I roll my eyes once I spot Agreste smirking at me with his head cocked to the side.

"I think the both of us, with the help of the bodyguards, can find our way to see the president, eh?" Byvael continues before turning to Agreste. "Adrien," he says to him, "I can handle myself for now. Take the team with you and stay at the waiting room."

Agreste nods and says, "Of course, sir."

Mister Nordic calls my name and nods once. I nod back, understanding his message and I turn to my team behind me. "Let's all go to our own waiting room by the main entrance of this house," I instruct them, "We will stay there until Mister Nordic is done with his visit."

Both teams start to leave in opposite directions once the bodyguards take the candidates to the president. And I'm happy that no argument was insinuated by either of the teams.

Just as I leave with mine, a hand grabs my arm from behind. I immediately turn and look at Agreste in surprise, his hand still on my arm.

"I have something to talk with you," he tells me. No one stands behind him and I know that his team has gone to the waiting room already. Mine, though, stops and watch the scene playing in front of them.

"You can go ahead without me," I say, directing my words to my team. I face them and let out a small smile. "This will be fast."

They all continue to stand frozen until Nath steps out and with the loudest voice he could muster says, "O-Okay, you heard her. S-She can take care of herself. Let's go first, okay?"

I mouth the words, 'thank you' at Nath and he acknowledges it by slightly bowing his head. He turns back with the team and leads them to the waiting room.

Once it's just me and Agreste, I yank my arm away and scowl at him. "Must you really create a scene like that?"

"The university called me about the two  of us," he simply utters, crossing his arms.

I let out a scoff and furrow my eyebrows at him. "How could you still be in touch with the faculty?"

"Because I'm not like you who continued to be uptight with everyone in campus," he points out in a stern manner. Then he shakes his head and lets out a huff. "Anyway," he continues, "they called, specifically the political science department."

"If this is about us, alumni, giving money then I won't-"

"You speak too much nonsense for your own good," he cuts me off which causes me to gape at him.

"How dare y-"

"Then want the both of us to give a talk to the political science students," he interrupts again. "Since we work as campaign managers for both parties, they are intrigued with how we do it."

I choose to stay quiet and think of the request.

University. I haven't gone back to campus for a long time. I never found the reason to. There was nothing sentimental or nostalgic in campus for me. It was just a place where I got a degree in political science and a minor in psychology.

But...just thinking about it, this talk could maybe help boost the morale of Rustan Nordic with the young voters. If I could play a bit with my words and use it to Mister Nordic's advantage, I won't miss a chance!

"Do you think that on that day," Agreste continues softly, "we'll be like how we were in university? Nothing like friends, but maybe...acting like acquaintances?"

I choose to ignore his question and face the side to head to the waiting room where the rest of my team is staying. "Please tell them that I'll clear my schedule on that day," I utter monotonously, leaving that man alone in the hallway.

I finally let out a grin and bite back a laugh. If Agreste wants to play a game, I'll strike little by little and release the biggest one when he is completely unaware.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you liked the chapter :)

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