Rival: A Feuds Novella (The Feuds Series) Page 5

  “I think your lack of confidence comes from the nether regions of hell.” Vera slung an arm over Davis’s shoulders, and the two made their way to the Apex.

  ***

  “These are the nether regions of hell,” Davis whispered to herself forty-five minutes later. She was surrounded by screaming things in tutus. Were they human? She thought not. They were whiny and snotty and every single one of them wanted all of her attention but didn’t want to take her advice. Worse, she couldn’t exactly exert authority with their helicopter dance moms hovering around. First position? Nope. Not happening. Pirouette? What a joke. Davis didn’t remember being like this as a kid. Fia certainly wasn’t like this—and Davis herself was a million times better behaved than these kids were. She and Vera both always had been well behaved and driven. But then, these kids were just there to have fun.

  Davis sighed, tired, and shot Vera a look from across the enormous auditorium that was normally used for performances. From the look of it (and the sound of the screeches that the clusters of tiny cellos were emitting), Vera was having just as hard a time as Davis was. Vera also kept sitting down on the edge of the stage, her mouth set in a grim line as she rubbed her temples. Davis suspected dehydration and headache had set in.

  Hangover? she mouthed at her friend. Vera made a kill me gesture and grimaced. Davis felt grateful she’d chugged all that water. Her thoughts went to that morning and her session with Seth. It made her so thrilled it was almost painful. She felt her mouth lift into a smile and realized—as one very adorable girl with dark curls that reminded her of Fia tugged her skirt—that she needed an attitude adjustment. She was trying to force these kids into being serious dancers, but they were just there to have fun.

  “How about this,” Davis told the class. “Let’s all spin in a circle.” She spun, too, ignoring the glares of the parents. “Now point your toes and do a hop,” Davis said, abandoning all formal ballet language. It felt like they were playing a game of Simon Says, but she no longer cared. Soon the kids were laughing, and the parents looked a little more relaxed. She smiled at the Fia look-alike, glad for the inspiration. The little girl gave Davis a big, toothless grin in return. She found herself starting to have fun, too.

  When it was finally over and the parents began filing in to pick up their kids, the little girl—whose name was Adele—was still clinging to Davis like a barnacle. “Where’s your mommy?” Davis asked.

  “My daddy’s there,” Adele said, pointing to the man who strode toward them.

  “Hello,” Davis said when he approached. “I’m Davis Morrow.”

  “Pierce Mason,” the man said, giving her a smile. Davis frowned, wondering why he looked familiar. Then she realized: he was one of the guys from the monorail in front of the restaurant. One of the loud jerks who’d been pushing around the Imps. Just as she put two and two together, Pierce spoke again.

  “What a scene,” he commented, surveying the room, which was still chaotic, with children running around and torn streamers littering the floor. “Great program, though. Addy,” he said in a gentle tone, looking down at his daughter fondly, “did you have fun?” She nodded, wrapping her arms around his knees. Her dad laughed. “This one’s a clinger. Wouldn’t leave me alone for a second if it weren’t for something like this,” he kept on, shaking his head. “Can you imagine Imps putting on a show like this? They barely pay attention to their kids, let alone go out of their way for them.” Davis felt her mouth fall open. “They’re basically heathens,” Mr. Mason continued. “Primitive, really. I’m so glad we’re not near the outskirts. This place has great security. I’d never let Addy come here alone otherwise.”

  Davis smiled stiffly. She’d heard people talk badly about Imps before, but nothing like this guy—and so casually, like he was talking about the weather. Davis tried not to show her shock—she’d never heard an adult use the word “Imp” aloud in public. It sounded so … repulsive, the way he’d said it. “I’ve got to run,” she said. “I need to help with cleanup. Nice to meet you, Mr. Mason.”

  “Likewise,” he said. “Maybe I’ll commission you for some private lessons. Looks like Adele had a blast.”

  “Bye, Adele,” Davis called, running off. She didn’t know what to think. Her dad thought segregation—or controlled integration at the bare minimum—was a good idea. But he’d never gone off on Imps—Gens—like Mr. Mason had, acting like they were an undeveloped species. Mr. Mason had practically called them animals.

  Davis shook it off and was about to leave the Apex when she realized she was missing good practice time. Good practice time would lift her spirits … and she wanted to see if she could replay everything Seth taught her that morning, without him. She headed through the long corridor and down a flight of stairs to the lower level where the practice studios were housed. She’d go back and meet Vera after she’d calmed down.

  As she neared the rooms, familiar-sounding music—yes, unmistakably Stravinsky—emerged from an open door. Curious, Davis approached. It sounded like … It couldn’t be. Her pace quickened, and she felt her face break into a smile. It was Seth, going over her routine on his downtime. He was familiarizing himself with it, she realized, so he could help her. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her.

  Davis approached the room, primed to give him a huge hug, and stopped in her tracks. She stared through the clear glass pane.

  All she could see at first was a flash of brilliant red hair, swirling around the room as slim, muscular legs carried a girl’s frame with the grace of a natural.

  Gabrielle Rydell.

  Gaby was soaring through the air to the unmistakable, eerie melodies of The Rite of Spring.

  Okay, so she and Davis had coincidentally chosen the same obscure song. And Gaby had had to get there early for the showcase—it made sense that she would. She’d traveled in from another territory and would have to overcome jetlag.

  Even as Davis attempted to calm herself and field her disappointment, it took her only a few more seconds to identify her own exact routine. She froze. Cold panic swept over her body. How was it possible? How could Gaby have known? Davis’s mind raced. It was too late to think of a new routine, and Gaby was performing this one flawlessly.

  It was humiliating, the worst kind of mockery.

  Davis felt tears welling in the corners of her eyes; Gaby finished the routine, a self-satisfied smile spreading across her face. Davis was torn between running away and confronting Gaby directly, but then she heard the burst of applause.

  “Bravo! You were gorgeous.” The masculine voice preceded the tall, muscular form that had been concealed by Davis’s partial view of the studio. When Seth moved into the center of the studio to sweep Gaby into a hug, Davis wasn’t even surprised. She was sick.

  Seth pulled Gaby to him and kissed her tenderly, then more passionately. She returned the kiss, her hands working along his back and his tangling in her hair. It was clear it wasn’t the first time they’d done it. Davis took a step back, her throat closing. She had to leave. She had to get out of there immediately.

  It was all startlingly, horribly clear: Seth had used her. And he’d given Gaby her routine.

  Chapter 10

  “Vera. You need to come with me.”

  Vera’s eyes were half-closed when Davis grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the stage, where she was splayed out on her back, two remaining children tying her hair in knots and giggling.

  “Oh thank god,” Vera said, struggling to her feet. “Playtime’s over now, kids. You can wait for Mommy and Daddy at Reception.” Vera and Davis walked the children to the reception area and handed them off to the assistant before she could protest. “You don’t know what I’ve been through,” Vera moaned to Davis. “The next time I pick up a shampoo bottle in the locker room, just don’t. Don’t let me do it.”

  Davis was silent while Vera babbled for a minute longer before she finally noticed that something was wrong. “Girl. What gives? It wasn’t that bad,” she said.<
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  “Can we go to your house? I can’t say what I need to say in public.”

  “Mine?” Vera said.

  “It’ll be quieter there.”

  Davis couldn’t handle being distracted by Fia just then, much as she adored her. They made their way back to Vera’s high-rise, one of the luxury high-rises popular with Priors. They walked the ten blocks in silence; Vera seemed to realize the gravity of what Davis was going through.

  When they punched into Vera’s building, Davis headed directly for her room to avoid the possibility of running into one of her parents. Davis sat on Vera’s blue cotton bedspread and took a deep breath, trying to will back the tears threatening to spill down her face. Then she recounted the story, going over and over the minutiae.

  “You’re sure it was your routine,” Vera said for the millionth time.

  “I am five hundred percent sure,” Davis said. “Just like I’m five million percent sure I wasn’t having an apocalyptic vision when I saw them making out. They were hard-core making out, Vera. Not like a first makeout.”

  “Like a ‘people who have done it’ makeout,” said Vera.

  Davis winced. “How could I have been so stupid?”

  “You’re not stupid,” Vera said, pulling her into a hug. “You’re just a good person. And Seth is a bad, bad person. You wouldn’t do those things, so you can’t imagine other people doing them.” Davis pulled back and Vera looked into her eyes. “It’s not a bad thing that you trust, Davis.”

  Davis laid her head on her friend’s shoulder. “What am I going to do? The showcase is Friday. That’s only two days from now. I can’t plan another routine by then. And I took a chance with him. If anyone found out we hooked up …Vera, I could have just blown the Olympiads.” She put her head in her hands, struggling to keep herself composed. She’d never felt so trapped.

  Or betrayed.

  “Maybe you don’t have to plan another routine,” Vera suggested, looking thoughtful. “Maybe there are other ways around this.”

  Davis knew her friend well enough to know exactly what she was hinting at. Normally, Davis opposed Vera’s half-cooked plans, plans that often got them into trouble.

  “They’re going down,” Davis said, staring straight ahead. “I’ll sabotage Gaby before she can sabotage me.” She turned to Vera, whose eyes were sparkling.

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Time to play hardball. What are you going to do?”

  “We,” Davis corrected, “are going to catch them in the act, take photos, and report them. It’ll get them disqualified from the showcase. No one saw me and Seth together. No one can prove I was with him. But I can prove he’s hooking up with Gaby. I just have to orchestrate a way to get them together.”

  “Davis,” Vera said quietly, “this might not just get them knocked out of the showcase.”

  “I know,” Davis said. “It might get them eliminated from the Olympiads altogether.”

  “That’s … a lot.” Vera’s voice was measured. “I was thinking blackmail, at best. Stop her from doing your routine.” She bit her lip; Davis’s look was resolute. “We’ve all been dreaming of the Olympiads for our entire lives. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Vera. I want this. I want you behind me on this.” Never in her life had Davis felt this swell of anger; it was like a tidal wave of bitterness.

  “Okay, then,” Vera said with a nod. “You know I’m behind you on anything.”

  “Here’s what we do,” Davis told her. Apparently anger was good for a person. She already had a plan.

  Chapter 11

  The next day, Davis knew exactly what time Gaby’s practice session would end. At sign-in, Davis had flipped back a few slides on the projected touch screen to see when Gaby had been signing in and out each day. It was uniform, as Davis had hoped. Sign-in, 7:00 A.M. Sign-out, 5:00 P.M. So, Gaby is a hard worker, too. Davis tried to push the thought from her mind. She wouldn’t feel guilty. She couldn’t. Being a nice girl wasn’t going to screw her over once again. She was done letting people walk all over her. Or dance with her, she thought, Seth in her mind. She already knew when Seth would be in the steam room, “unwinding.”

  She went to practice as usual and struggled to focus on her routine, which made her feel sick. But at 4:00 P.M.—early enough not to run into Seth on his way in—she began her stakeout of the locker room, DirecTalk in hand and set to “photo.”

  Vera’s job was harder, but she had to be the one to do it. Davis couldn’t get near Gaby without seeming suspicious. She had to convince Gaby to come down to the steam room at the same time as Seth. Vera was going to pose as a spa technician and tell Gaby she’d received a complimentary VIP treatment for dancers from other territories.

  Then, Davis hoped, everything would come together—and Davis would submit the photos anonymously to a showcase authority.

  Seth came at 5:00 P.M. as scheduled. Davis squirmed impatiently, watching him from her spot behind a row of lockers. As he stripped off his shirt and tossed it into a locker, she realized she no longer felt any pull of attraction. His deception had ruined it. His sculpted muscles weren’t doing it for her, because she knew he was a huge jerk. She’d made herself vulnerable and he’d recognized that and used it against her. She’d never—never ever—let it happen again.

  Vera was waiting for Gaby at the front of the spa. Gaby got a facial and blowout every single day (that was something Davis already knew, just in passing); she was ridiculously vain. But could Vera get Gaby into the steam room? Davis’s breath quickened as five minutes went by, then ten.

  Finally the door to the locker room slid open and Gaby walked in. Vera gave Davis a thumbs-up from the other side of the glass, and Davis put a finger to her lips, scooting backward to further conceal herself. Gaby moved toward the steam room, and Davis held her breath. It was about to happen.

  Gaby was just a few feet away from the steam room—and Seth—when Gaby’s DirecTalk rang. Davis fought the urge to groan as Gaby said, “Okay, talk,” into the necklace in which it was embedded.

  “Hi,” she said brightly, twirling her ankle absentmindedly. “Yep. Just finished. Seth is the best,” she gushed. “I’m serious. The absolute best. I don’t know where I’d be without him.”

  Her words probably sounded normal to the person on the other end of the line, but Davis could detect undercurrent of strong emotion there. Couples who manipulated people together must really have a close bond, Davis thought. The close but screwed-up kind.

  “I’m telling you, he taught me all these new moves,” Gaby went on. “I am so excited.” She paused and lowered her voice, looking around like she knew someone was listening. “I was really worried for a sec, you know? The competition’s stiff. There are so many talented girls. And the showcase is … it’s important.” Her voice turned serious. “Seth choreographed an entirely new routine for me yesterday, and it’s brilliant. The competition’s in the bag now. I was so worried before. Well, I don’t need to tell you that.” She laughed, sounding giddy.

  Davis froze. It almost seemed like … Gaby hadn’t known. But was it just an act for whomever she was talking to?

  Gaby suddenly seemed to notice Seth in the steam room—and Davis saw the unabashed smile that automatically flooded her face. If Gaby was acting, she was a great actress. Davis had to admit it was probably sincere.

  A realization crept up Davis’s entire body. It was clear that Gaby really cared about Seth.

  “Uh-huh,” Gaby was saying. “Well, I have to go. I got a free steam at the spa today…. Yeah! I know…. Okay. Love you, too. Bye, Mom.” Gaby dropped her DirecTalk and moved toward the steam room in her spa robe. She reached for the handle.

  Davis squeezed her eyes shut. Then, half-cursing herself but choosing to follow her gut, she burst out from her hiding place.

  “Gaby, wait,” she called out.

  Gaby turned, startled. Her expression hardened along with her voice. “What are you doing, creeper? Were you spying on me?”


  “No! I … okay. Yes,” Davis admitted. “But it’s because I need to talk to you about something. Just come with me. Let’s go somewhere private.”

  “Why should I go anywhere with you?” Gaby was holding her ground.

  “Because I’ve never done anything to you,” Davis said evenly. “You’ve been the one hassling me, and I haven’t done a thing. That’s why. You owe me.”

  Gaby looked at the ground, reddening. “Well, it can wait. I have a free steam-room session,” she said, casting an anxious look in the steam room’s direction. “It has to be used today before six or it expires. So I don’t have time for your little chat.”

  “It’s fake,” Davis informed her. “That was just my friend Vera, lying to get you in here.”

  Now Gaby was looking at Davis like she was crazy.

  “Just come,” Davis said. “I need to talk to you about something. And I don’t want anyone hearing us.”

  Reluctant, Gaby removed her hand from the steam-room door. “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she said as she followed Davis into the vicinity of the pool, where there was an outdoor terrace with a quiet cabana, blessedly empty. “You’re obviously a psycho. If you wanted to talk to me, why didn’t you just do it? Why did you invent a fake spa treatment? That’s so weird.” She plopped down on the white cushion, and Davis sat next to her, pulling the curtains closed to form a tent.

  “Because I didn’t want to talk to you,” Davis told her, her voice hard. She still didn’t know if Gaby was innocent. “I wanted to catch you. With Seth. He goes there every day.”

  “With …,” Gaby trailed off, sounding mystified. “How do you know Seth goes there? And why would I care where he goes?” she added, turning bright red.

  “Because you’re hooking up with him,” Davis said. “Don’t pretend you aren’t. I’ve seen you. And I’ve seen you practicing the routine you two stole from me.”

  Gaby paled. “That’s my routine,” she said. “Seth taught me.”