Across the Rivalry Line

Episode 3: Rumors and Receipts

The photo hit the group chat at 7:42 a.m.

It was grainy and taken from far away, but it was unmistakable. Maya Ellison and Jace Monroe stood in a dark doorway, his hand still wrapped around hers.

The caption read: Westbrook's Queen + Ridgemont's Captain?? 👀

By first period, it had four hundred views.

"Maya." Priya slid into the seat beside her, phone clutched like evidence. "Please tell me this is fake."

"It's not what it looks like."

"It looks like you're holding hands with the enemy."

"He was guiding me out of a dark gym!"

"Cute," Priya said flatly. "Still bad."

Before Maya could answer, a voice floated over from the doorway. "Wow. Tough morning?"

Dani Reyes, Westbrook's student council vice president, leaned against the frame with a sweet smile and sharp eyes. She had wanted the festival co-lead spot, and she had never forgiven Maya for getting it.

"I'd hate for people to think you've gone soft," Dani added. "Loyalty matters here, you know."

Maya stood slowly. "Did you take that photo?"

"Me?" Dani pressed a hand to her chest. "I just think the school deserves to know who's representing them."

She walked away, humming.

Priya whistled low. "So that's the watcher."

"That's the watcher," Maya said through her teeth.

She found Jace in the Pine Street Diner parking lot that afternoon, sitting on the hood of his car with his phone in his hands, staring at the same photo.

"You've seen it," she said.

"Everyone at Ridgemont has." He didn't look up. "My team's been texting me all day. Some think it's funny. Some think I sold them out."

"Dani Reyes took it."

"Figures." He finally looked at her, and his eyes were tired. "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn't have held your hand."

"It was dark, Jace. You were being decent."

"Decent gets people talked about."

Maya crossed her arms, but her voice softened. "So we ignore it. We keep working. The festival is what matters."

At that, Jace flinched, barely, but she saw it.

"Why do you care so much about this festival?" she asked. "And don't say 'it's just a festival.'"

He was quiet for a long moment. Then his phone buzzed again. Unknown Number.

This time Maya didn't look away. "Answer it."

"Maya..."

"Answer it, or tell me why you won't."

Jace stared at the screen until it stopped ringing. Then, without a word, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a folded paper, and pushed it into her hands.

"I wasn't going to show anyone," he said quietly. "But you're the only one who asked."

Maya unfolded it. It was a letter on county letterhead, and her eyes scanned the first lines:

Due to declining enrollment and budget deficits, the County Board will vote on December 15th regarding the permanent closure of Ridgemont High School.

Her breath caught.

"The calls are from the board," Jace said. "They want a statement from the student body. Reporters are calling too. Nobody thinks the festival can save us, but if we raise enough, if we show them we're worth keeping..."

"You'd keep the school open," Maya whispered.

"It's not just a school." His voice cracked. "It's the only place that ever felt like mine."

She looked at the letter, then at him, this boy she had spent three years hating. He didn't look like an enemy now. He looked like someone holding up a roof with his bare hands.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you're from Westbrook." He gave a bitter laugh. "If Ridgemont closes, the students get sent to your school. To you."

Maya felt the ground shift beneath her.

That was why the county had paired them. That was why the festival mattered. She wasn't just working with her rival. She was helping him fight for a school that, if it lost, would end up inside her own.

"Does anyone else know?" she asked.

"Just you."

"Then it stays that way."

Jace blinked. "You're not going to tell Westbrook?"

She folded the letter and placed it gently back in his hand. "I told you, we're partners."

For the first time, he smiled without a trace of guard, small and grateful and entirely unfair.

Neither of them noticed the figure at the edge of the lot, phone raised, recording every word.

To be continued...