Across the Rivalry Line

Episode 6: What Jace Knew

For a long moment, the only sound was the wind in the paper lanterns.

"Say something," Maya said. "Anything."

Jace opened his mouth, closed it, and finally nodded. "Yes. I knew."

It was like being slapped. Maya turned toward her car, but his voice stopped her.

"I knew about the file. I knew they picked you because of the rivalry. But, Maya, I didn't know you."

"Don't."

"Please. Five minutes. If you still want to leave after that, I'll never say another word."

She stood with her back to him, her hand on the car door. Behind them, Eli quietly retreated to the edge of the stage, giving them space.

"Five minutes," she said.

They sat on the edge of the half-built stage, a careful three feet apart.

"The letter came in September," Jace began. "It said I'd be paired with a Westbrook student leader, and that my job was to keep her engaged. Keep her from quitting. It even had notes on you." He winced. "Things like 'competitive,' 'image-conscious,' 'responds well to praise.'"

Maya's face burned. "So the compliments were a strategy."

"No. That's the part I need you to hear." He turned to face her. "I went to that diner planning to follow the script. Flatter you. Be agreeable. And then you opened that binder and told me my ideas only counted if they didn't suck."

"That was rude."

"It was the first honest thing anyone had said to me in months." A small, helpless laugh escaped him. "I threw the script away right there. Everything after that, the arguing, the jokes, the dark gym, none of it was in the file."

"How do I know that?"

"You don't." His voice was steady, but his hands weren't. "I can't prove it. All I can tell you is that when I held your hand in that gym, there was no plan. There was just you, and I didn't want to let go."

Maya's throat tightened. She stared at the lanterns so he wouldn't see her eyes.

"You should have told me," she said quietly. "Weeks ago. The moment you realized."

"I know."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I was scared." He said it simply. "Scared you'd quit, and the school would close. Scared you'd look at me the way you did at the diner, like I was the enemy again. And I'd already started hoping you wouldn't."

The honesty of it hit her harder than any apology could have.

She wanted to be angry. She was angry. But underneath the anger, something else sat, an uncomfortable, undeniable truth.

"I would have quit," she admitted. "If you'd told me in September."

"I know."

"And now?"

Jace's eyes searched hers. "Now I'd understand."

Eli cleared his throat from a few feet away. "Not to interrupt, but there's one more thing you both need to hear."

They turned.

"The board moved the vote up," he said grimly. "It was on the agenda this afternoon. It's no longer December 15th. It's November 8th."

Maya did the math. "That's thirteen days."

"The festival was going to be in December."

"We'll have to move it," Jace said. "Make it smaller, faster, something we can pull off in two weeks."

"Or we don't do it," Maya said slowly. "And we let them close the school."

Both brothers looked at her.

She stood and walked to the edge of the stage, where the lantern string stretched across the dark like a line of unlit stars. She thought about Hargrove's careful smile. She thought about being a pawn. She thought about every Ridgemont student who had stared at her in that sneaker-scented room and still let her stay.

"They picked me to prove two rival schools could work together," she said. "Fine. Let's prove it. But on our terms, and not as their experiment."

"Meaning?" Jace asked.

"Meaning we stop hiding this." Her voice grew stronger. "We tell both schools the truth. Everything. The merger plan, the test, the vote. If we're going to be their evidence, we're going to write the evidence."

Eli let out a slow whistle. "That's either brilliant or career-ending."

"Probably both," Maya said.

Jace stood beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "And us?"

She didn't look at him. "Ask me when the lanterns are lit."

It wasn't forgiveness. But it wasn't goodbye either, and from the way Jace exhaled, he knew it.

"Deal," he said softly.

They had thirteen days.

Neither of them saw the black sedan idling at the edge of the fairgrounds, or the woman inside it, who calmly dialed a number and said, "They know. Move to phase two."

It was Principal Hargrove.

To be continued...