THE VALEDICTORIAN WARS

CHAPTER 3 - FOUR YEAR'S OF WAR

Four Years Earlier

Four years ago, Ethan Cole wasn't my enemy.

He was just the new boy.

I still remembered the first day he walked into Westbridge Academy.

Freshman year.

Mrs. Bennett had introduced him halfway through our first semester because his family had moved from Chicago to Massachusetts.

He'd stood at the front of the classroom with his hands in his pockets, looking completely unbothered by the thirty pairs of eyes staring at him.

“I'm Ethan,” he'd said.

That's it.

No nervous introduction.

No awkward smile.

Just Ethan.

I hadn't thought much of him until the first history test.

I got a ninety-eight.

I was proud of myself.

Then Mrs. Bennett announced that someone had scored higher.

“Ethan Cole, one hundred percent.”

I turned around.

He was sitting two seats behind me, staring at his paper.

When he noticed me looking, he smiled.

That was the beginning.

The next test, I got one hundred.

He got one hundred too.

The next time, I got ninety-nine.

He got one hundred.

And somehow, our teachers started treating our grades like some kind of sporting event.

“Daisy is ahead by two points.”

“Ethan has caught up.”

“Interesting. They're tied again.”

By sophomore year, our classmates had started taking sides.

By junior year, people had nicknamed us The Valedictorian Wars.

I hated the name.

Ethan loved it.

“You know we're basically famous,” he'd told me once.

“We're not famous.”

“Half the school knows our GPA.”

“That isn't fame.”

“It is at Westbridge.”

Unfortunately, he had a point.

But there was something else nobody knew.

I needed that title.

Not because I wanted people to clap for me.

Not because I wanted my name engraved on a trophy.

My mother had worked two jobs for years to keep me at Westbridge. She never complained, but I knew how difficult it was.

The scholarship attached to the valedictorian award could change everything for me.

College.

Tuition.

My future.

I couldn't afford to lose.

And Ethan didn't know any of that.

To him, it was a game.

At least, that's what I told myself.

The present returned as I sat in the cafeteria with my best friend, Maya.

“So,” she said, stabbing a fork into her salad. “You and Ethan.”

I groaned.

“What about us?”

“You're partners.”

“Unfortunately.”

She grinned.

“This is going to be entertaining.”

“It isn't entertaining.”

“You've been fighting since freshman year.”

“Exactly. Four years of evidence.”

Maya leaned closer.

“Do you know what I think?”

“I don't want to.”

“I think you two secretly enjoy it.”

I nearly choked.

“Absolutely not.”

She laughed.

Before I could respond, someone dropped a tray onto the table beside us.

Ethan.

He sat down without asking.

I stared at him.

“There are other tables.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?”

He opened his drink.

“Because this one has the best view.”

Maya looked between us.

“Oh, I suddenly have somewhere to be.”

“Maya—”

She was already gone.

I glared at Ethan.

“You're impossible.”

“And you're predictable.”

He pulled a folded paper from his backpack and placed it on the table.

“Our project schedule.”

I unfolded it.

My eyes widened.

“You scheduled our first meeting for tomorrow?”

“Six p.m.”

“I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

I looked up.

“Excuse me?”

He leaned back.

“If we're going to beat everyone else, we need to start early.”

“We?”

His expression changed.

For once, there was no teasing in his eyes.

“Yes. We.”

I stared at him.

Maybe this year really was going to be different.

Then my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen.

Another message from the unknown number.

You should ask Ethan what happened at his old school.

My smile disappeared.

I looked across the table.

Ethan was watching me.

“What?” he asked.

I locked my phone.

“Nothing.”

But suddenly, I wasn't sure I believed that.