Split Victory

© 2026 Zoë Taylor

“Sweetheart,” Tori said and kissed Morgan’s forehead, “Whatever you need, you know you just have to ask.”

Rather than the usual intense “roadwork” heart pounding run pushing herself to her limits, Morgan opted to actually catch a ride with Amber and her team. Several of them lived in the same area, Ashwood Heights, in particular the Styles family, and even though Coach Styles was coaching Liberty at the larger AA tournament, there were multiple coaches available from Soaring Dragon Temple Dojo to facilitate student needs.

“Thank you again for the ride,” Morgan said as she picked up her duffle bag, giving Amber a quick hug before she took a crisp $5 bill from the bag and laid it on the console. The driver, who was in her late 20s with striking green eyes and the messiest auburn hair Morgan had ever seen, tried to push it back at her, but Morgan had already jumped out. “Hey! What’s this for? she asked, trying not to disturb the small stack of legal briefs resting just under the car radio.

“Gas,” she laughed. “I mean I’m not technically a SDT student right?” She grinned, already out of the car and far enough away that it couldn’t be forced back.

“Oh, good grief,” the woman laughed. “Fine, fine, but the next one’s on the house,” she said and waved at her before pulling away. Morgan turned and started up the steps. She stopped and stared briefly at the polished oak door.

It wasn’t polished enough to show her reflection in it, just oak enough to give her pause, the large, though not massive, gold trophy poking out of her duffle bag where it didn’t quite fit enough to be zipped inside, its gold surface glinting in the afternoon light.

She had been so angry for so long, but here and now, the quiet suburb actually felt more peaceful than it had for a very long time, and she did as well. She slid the key into the lock and stepped inside.

Tiffani spent the ride home in quiet contemplation, staring out the window as the Chicago metro area gave way to North Shore boutiques and bistros, fine old estates and a sense of rising familiarity. They had to buckle the new trophy in to the back seat sideways to hold its massive 4 foot frame safely. Tiffani, the unseeded underdog had cut through the AA division regional like a wrecking crew. It wasn’t as though TKD students were unusual in the NAMASA circuit tournaments, but nobody seemed to know what to do with Tiffani’s style.

Taekwondo was all about speed and grace, and yet, Tiffani had some kind of explosive power off the mark, and, to use Jade’s own words, ‘The fastest slice kick I’ve ever seen.’ But she had control over her power. No raw, brute strength, Tiffani seemed to be able to sense where her opponent would be and plan ahead. She wasn’t fighting or planning several moves ahead, and she certainly wasn’t psychic, as the rumors had begun to whisper by the time she made it to the day’s finals. She was observant and quick when focused.

Tiffani had already taken her hair down following her final match, and now it hung in loose waves, a little messy, accented by what else, but a pair of pink framed Oakley sunglasses. In her excitement she forgot to return jade’s #1 seed pin, but she could do that tomorrow. She watched with a measure of excitement as the great 15 foot wall surrounding Stonewood came into view. The heavy iron gate rolled open on well oiled wheels to allow them to pass and slammed shut behind with a resounding clang. Finally, she could let her guard down again.

Morgan was surprised to find her mom and Suzanne both in the kitchen, and baking? Tori knew how to cook obviously, but they hardly ever baked anything. “Who are you, and what have you done with my family?” she laughed.

“Oh, oh, you’ve got us,” Tori laughed.

In her best alien invader 80s B movie voice, Suzanne said, “We’re Zetans from planet Zerg.”

Morgan snorted, shaking her head. “Goober.”

“More bling?” she asked playfully as she nodded toward the trophy peeking out, threatening to tumble out of the bag.

“Yeah, no big,” Morgan shrugged. “I feel kind of guilty entering these single A tournaments, but, I gotta keep my points up,” she sighed. “But I had a different kind of victory. I uh... I talked to Amber about... last night?” she said, giving Suzanne a look.

“Oh, crap really?” Suzanne asked. “How’d she take it?” She suddenly glanced at their very, very confused mom and then added, “Oh um, I mean,” but Morgan laughed, almost, but not quite, a giggle. She smiled.

“It’s okay Zanna. I’m going to tell her. I need to.”

“Tell me what?” Tori asked, glancing with concern between them. “You’re dating Amber?” she asked.

“Oh God no!” Morgan laughed. “Not ready to date anyone for awhile No, um, actually...”

“That was really sweet of her,” Amanda said as she helped Tiffani in with her duffle bag. “Maybe I should invite Mrs. Styles and her family over for dinner some night. She sounds like she’s raised an extremely well-mannered daughter at least.”

“Yeah I thought so too,” Tiffani said, quickly adding, “Oh, I mean, the well mannered part, not the dinner part. That’s adult stuff so that’s way above my pay grade. But Liberty and I, I don’t know if we’re friends exactly? But she confided something in me that I can at least say, we’re allies in the same fight now. The judges are going to let me give up my points to absorb her unsportsmanlike penalty, since she only got penalized for defending me against some asshole parent.”

“Hey hey, language,” Amanda said, adding, “But you’re right. That chick was a real asshole. She’s lucky I hadn’t been there. I would’ve jumped the barricade and completely embarrassed you going all legal eagle on her ass.”

Tiffani grinned, vindicated by her mom’s use of the language she had just been warned about, and put an arm around her. “Thanks, Mom. Is Alex home? I can’t wait to show her my new trophy.”

“She’s at cheer practice, but she should be home any minute now,” Tori answered.

“Sweet. Can you ask her to come to my room when she gets in? She’s better at arranging these things than I am. I don’t have a clue where I’m going to fit this monster,” she sighed.

“Mom,” Morgan said, “I... I’m trans.”

Tori set down the oven mitt, approached Morgan, and wrapped both arms tightly around her. She wasn’t sure what she should say, what she could say in that moment, but she knew she needed, and wanted, to show Morgan that she supported and loved her

“I honestly don’t know where to go from here. I... I think I need to talk to a therapist or something, not you know, for the good drugs or whatever,” she said, trying to crack a lame joke. It fell on its face the moment she said it, but luckily, she didn’t. She persevered. “But just... I don’t know, to sort through what I’ve been quietly struggling with for awhile now.”

“Sweetheart,” Tori said and kissed Morgan’s forehead, “Whatever you need, you know you just have to ask.”

“Really?” Morgan asked, all but collapsing into Tori’s arms and putting her head on her mom’s shoulder.

“Told you she’d understand,” Suzanne grinned. “I mean, you’re not the only one I’ve told I’m bi,” she said, as she made it a group hug.

“Holy mother of God Tiff,” Alex said as she walked into Tiffani’s room, still wearing her gray sweat pants and top, the hot pink ‘Cheer Up!’ with a megaphone emblazened on it the only real signs of color, or indication it wasn’t just any ratty old sweatshirt top. “That thing’s freaking huge!”

“I KNOW!” Tiffani laughed. “What the heck am I going to do with it? It’s not going to fit on my dinky little shelf. I’d have to build a whole new one just for it. Aleeeex help!”

Alex giggled. “Well, when we get a massive trophy like that we usually donate it to the school. I mean you’ve seen the gym trophy wall. Why not donate it to your TKD dojo-majig?”

Tiffani stared at Alex briefly. ‘Sometimes I swear you talk like that just so people don’t figure out how smart you actually are, sis,” she said. “That’s a great idea.”

Alex beamed. “I try. On both counts, actually.”

As Tiffani thought about what Amanda had said about inviting the Styles family over for dinner, she looked at the massive trophy, standing alone underneath the trophy shelf. She couldn’t help wondering if Liberty would have preferred something small, sleek, and black that she could take apart and bolt on to that crazy bike of hers rather than something shiny and gold paint with fake plastic marble. Alex was right though. As proud at she was to have won it, it belonged at the school, not in her inner sanctum.