Rival Hearts

The rivalry between Eastwood High and Westbrook Academy was legendary. Fifteen years of competing for the state cheerleading championship, fifteen years of bitter losses and narrow victories, fifteen years of two schools that genuinely, deeply hated each other.

I was Eastwood's head cheerleader. Captain of a squad that had won state three years running. And in exactly two weeks, we were going to make it four.

There was just one problem.

Her name was Valentina Reyes, and she was everything I despised.

Valentina was Westbrook's captain, tall, athletic, with caramel skin and dark hair that somehow stayed perfect even after a full routine. She was arrogant, competitive, and had the most infuriating smirk I'd ever seen on a human face. Every time our squads crossed paths at competitions, she made it her personal mission to get under my skin.

And she was very, very good at it.

"Nice routine, Harper. Very... safe."

That was what she'd said at regionals last month, right after we'd nailed a flawless performance. Safe. Like playing it safe was an insult. Like I wasn't the captain of the best squad in the state.

"We'll see who's safe at state," I'd shot back.

She'd just smiled that infuriating smile and walked away, her hips swaying like she owned the whole damn arena.

I hated her.

I thought about her constantly.

* * *

Two Weeks Before State

The text came at 11 PM on a Tuesday.

"We need to talk. McKinley Park. 30 minutes."

Unknown number. But I knew exactly who it was.

I should have ignored it. Should have blocked the number and gone to sleep like a normal person. Instead, I found myself pulling on jeans and sneaking out of my house like some kind of criminal.

McKinley Park was the unofficial neutral zone between our schools, a stretch of grass and playground equipment that belonged to neither side. When I arrived, Valentina was already there, sitting on a swing, her long legs extended in front of her.

"How did you get my number?"

"I have my ways." She didn't look up. "Sit."

"I'm not a dog."

"Fine. Stand. I don't care." She finally met my eyes. In the dim light of the park lamps, she looked different. Tired. Almost vulnerable. "I have a proposition."

"Not interested."

"You haven't heard it yet."

"I don't need to. Whatever scheme you're running, "

"My flyer broke her ankle."

That stopped me cold. In cheerleading, the flyer was everything, the girl who got thrown in the air, who did the impossible twists and flips that won championships. Losing your flyer two weeks before state was catastrophic.

"I'm... sorry to hear that."

"No you're not."

"No, I'm not. But I'm also not sure why you're telling me."

Valentina stood up, and suddenly we were face to face, close enough that I could smell her perfume. Something floral and expensive.

"Because I need a new flyer. And your backspot, Jessica? She's been wasted in that position for years. She could fly."

"You want me to give you one of my cheerleaders?"

"I want to make a deal. Jessica joins my squad for state. In

exchange, I'll give you our choreographer's notes. Every formation, every transition, every trick we've been planning."

"That's insane. Why would I, "

"Because you want to beat us fair and square. And if we drop out because we don't have a flyer, you'll always wonder if you could have actually won."

She was right. I hated that she was right.

"Jessica would never agree to this."

"She already did. I talked to her yesterday."

"You went behind my back?"

"I went around you. There's a difference." She stepped even closer. "Come on, Harper. Where's your competitive spirit? Or are you scared that even with our playbook, you still can't beat us?"

My jaw clenched. "Fine. But I want something else too."

"Name it."

"Practice together. Both squads. For the next two weeks. I want to see exactly what we're up against."

Something flickered in her eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or interest.

"Deal."

* * *

Day 3 of Joint Practice

It was a disaster. Absolute chaos. Twenty-four teenage girls who had spent years hating each other, forced to share a gym and pretend to be civil.

The only bright spot was watching Valentina work.

I hated admitting it, but she was good. Really good. She commanded her squad with an intensity that bordered on obsessive, but they responded to it. They trusted her.

"Your formation is sloppy in the second transition."

I looked up from my water bottle to find her standing over me, arms crossed.