Across the Rivalry Line

Maya Ellison had exactly three rules for dealing with Ridgemont High. One: never wear blue on game day. Two: never admit their team was good. Three: never, under any circumstances, speak to Jace Monroe. So when Principal Hargrove stepped up to the microphone and said the words "county partnership," Maya felt her stomach drop. "This year," Principal Hargrove announced, "Westbrook Academy will co-host the County Unity Festival with Ridgemont High." The auditorium went silent. Then someone in the back groaned, and the whole room exploded. "With Ridgemont?" Maya's best friend, Priya, hissed beside her. "They stole our mascot's head in sophomore year!" "They borrowed it," Maya muttered. "Permanently." Principal Hargrove raised a hand. "The festival raises funds for both schools' arts and sports programs. It needs two student leaders, one from each campus, and the county has chosen." She glanced at her clipboard. "For Westbrook: Maya Ellison." Heads turned. Maya stood, because that's what she always did, back straight, chin up. Being the one everyone looked at was practically her job. "I'll do it," she said. "But I'm not sharing credit." A few people laughed. Principal Hargrove did not. The meeting was set for Saturday at Pine Street Diner, neutral ground, forty minutes from either school. Maya arrived early, picked the booth facing the door, and ordered a coffee she didn't want. She had a binder, three color-coded pens, and a plan. At exactly 10:00, the bell above the door jingled. Jace Monroe walked in like he owned the place. Royal blue varsity jacket. Messy dark hair. A half-smile that made Maya's jaw tighten instantly. He slid into the booth across from her. "Ellison." "Monroe." "Nice binder." "Nice jacket. Did you wear it to intimidate me?" "It's just a jacket." He leaned back. "But I'm glad it's working." Maya opened her binder with a sharp snap. "Let's be clear. This is a business arrangement. We plan the festival, we avoid each other, and in December we go back to pretending the other doesn't exist." "Sounds great." Jace flipped the binder around, scanned her first page, and raised an eyebrow. "You've scheduled us to the minute." "That's called being organized." "That's called being terrifying." "You say that like it's an insult." For a second, something flickered across his face. Not annoyance. Something closer to amusement, and maybe respect. Maya looked away first, which she hated. Jace pulled a crumpled paper from his jacket and smoothed it on the table. It was a messy sketch of a festival layout, with stages, food stalls, and a giant banner reading ONE COUNTY. ONE NIGHT. "I had a few ideas," he said, almost carefully. Maya stared at it. It was good. Annoyingly good. "Fine," she said at last. "We can use some of it." "Some of it?" "The parts that don't suck." Jace laughed, a real laugh, low and surprised. It was the first time Maya had ever heard it, and it irritated her how much she noticed. Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and the laughter vanished. His jaw tightened. He flipped the phone face-down and said nothing. "Bad news?" Maya asked. "Nothing." His voice was flat. "Let's keep going." But as he picked up a pen, Maya saw his hand tremble, just slightly. What are you hiding, Jace Monroe? She shook the thought away. It didn't matter. He was the enemy. He was always the enemy. So why did she suddenly want to know? To be continued...