Rival: A Feuds Novella (The Feuds Series) Read online

  “After watching me perform it. Stravinsky. The Rite of Spring. The part where the chosen girl is honored. That’s mine. Seth watched me perform the whole thing.”

  Gaby was silent for a moment. “I didn’t know. Maybe … He has to observe dancers, so maybe … he just made a mistake.”

  Davis’s anger was quickly dissipating. The scared, doe look on Gaby’s face—so much different from when she was onstage—said everything.

  “It’s one thing to steal a routine. But he was trying to sabotage everything….” Davis paused, wondering whether to keep going. But if it were her—or Vera … She knew Gaby needed the truth.

  “Gaby, he made out with me. More than once.”

  “He made out with you?” Gaby’s voice was choked, and her hazel eyes were wide. “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I lie about that? I could be kicked out of the showcase for telling you.”

  “No,” Gaby said, shaking her head. “No. This can’t be happening.” Then she let go, tears flowing down her cheeks and onto her collarbone as she let out short, gasping sobs.

  She was definitely not acting. Davis suddenly felt very, very sorry for the girl. They’d been used the same way, played against each other.

  “We’ve been dating for a year,” Gaby told her. “A full year. Keeping it a secret. Hiding it from everyone we know. How could he do this to me?”

  Davis and Gaby had been used the same way, except that for Gaby it hurt worse. Davis felt awful. She didn’t know whether Gaby would want her to touch her, so she held back from hugging her the way she might Vera.

  But Davis spoke up, her voice soft. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really thought … after that text …”

  “Seth encouraged me to send the text,” Gaby told her. “Don’t get me wrong; I kind of wanted to.” She laughed, looking up at Davis with embarrassed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. “I was panicking a little bit. I know I’m good at dancing. But it’s never been my passion. My parents have pushed it. So hard.”

  “I know the feeling. The pressure’s too much, no matter where it’s coming from.”

  “But I know I’m missing something when I’m out there. The spirit that makes a real dancer soar. It works for you,” she said, her voice bitter. “Because you love it. Seth wanted me to win. I know he did. He pushed me and pushed me and told me to feel it when I couldn’t. But I thought … it was because he cared about me.” A dangerous, angry look clouded her face. “But I guess he really wanted everyone to know how great a coach he was. I just can’t believe he’d steal your routine, when he’s so talented himself. He’s a choreographer, for god’s sake. He must have thought yours was so much better. He must have felt as worried as I’ve felt.”

  Now Davis did reach out to her, taking her hand. Gaby had been much more attached to Seth than she had, Davis realized. For her, it had been a little fling that lasted less than a week. Any anger and hurt she felt paled in comparison to what Gaby was feeling. “Dancing is my life,” Davis said simply. “But I’m sorry. What he did … I can’t imagine how he hurt you. If I’d known, I’d never, ever have let anything happen between us.”

  Gaby pulled her hand from Davis’s grasp, obviously still hurt. “You have everything,” she told Davis. “My relationship with Seth was the only thing I thought was sacred. I thought it was perfect. Obviously I’ve been lying to myself.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Davis assured her. “Obviously he’s a master manipulator. He took us both in pretty easily. People like that … they’re not easy to spot. I’ve never even met one until now.”

  “Yeah,” Gaby said. She wiped her face with the back of her forearm. “God. It feels like everything’s falling apart.”

  “It will only feel that way for a little while,” Davis said quietly. “Don’t let him do this to you. Show him you’re better. We both have to.” It occurred to her then that Davis now had more than enough information to get Gaby kicked out of the showcase, maybe even the Olympiads. But she looked at the miserable girl, thinking hard. Gaby looked shattered. She was crumpled into herself, sobbing uncontrollably. She’d lost everything in the space of an hour.

  Revenge wasn’t worth it. At least not that kind of revenge. The best feeling, Davis realized, would be to win—for herself, and not out of anger. She rummaged in her bag and offered Gaby a tissue. This time, when she reached out to her, Gaby didn’t pull away.

  Chapter 12

  The following day, Davis entered the changing room at the Apex, every nerve in her body tingling. What she was about to do was so risky, and so outside her comfort zone, that she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. But she knew it was her best chance—maybe her only chance. And more than anything, it’s what she wanted. Gaby had promised not to use her routine before they parted, but Davis couldn’t know anything for sure. Gaby had seemed desperate, despite her promise—and desperate people sometimes did unexpected things.

  So Davis was going to get creative. She’d once heard somewhere that “when you go out of your comfort zone and it works, there’s nothing more satisfying.” She was ready for that. The only person who knew about her plan was the girl who was famous for pushing boundaries … her best friend.

  Davis looked out at the audience, seated and eagerly anticipating the showcase. She caught Vera’s eye and waved. Vera gave her a thumbs-up and a wink, smiling broadly. Next to Vera, Fia blew Davis a kiss. All you needed, Davis reasoned, was at least one person to believe in you in a sincere way. One person whom you trusted. And Davis had at least two right in the audience.

  The backstage area was dimly lit, with ballerinas all around her stretching, sipping power drinks, and taking optimizers. Some were simply sitting on the mahogany floors, eyes closed, meditating. Each dancer had her own routine. Thick black curtains guarded the stage, concealing the audience. The sight of other performers warming up made Davis feel antsy. She focused instead on the image of Vera, with Fia seated next to her.

  “Our next performer,” announced the host as Arielle Summers’s music wound down, “is Davis Morrow!” Davis walked onstage to the audience’s polite applause, leftover from Arielle’s routine. She tried to be graceful, but she felt her calves quaking. She approached the sound tech, who was cuing up Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. She whispered her change in his ear. He raised his eyebrows but nodded—and Davis walked back, taking her position in the center of the stage.

  Davis had created the mash-up of jazz, hip-hop, and indie rock the night before; then she’d layered it on top of a cut from Wagner’s famous Ring Cycle. Somehow, the music came together in one addictive cacophony: fast, angry, and dangerously beautiful. Davis had always relied on precision, accuracy, and the product of hard work. This time, she was going off book.

  She was going to improvise.

  She let go, funneling her emotions—the feelings that had built within her over the last few days—into the furious mood of the music. She twisted and turned, letting the music seep into her, consuming her, moving her body as though it controlled her. Her body pushed further than it ever had; she leapt higher and farther, spun faster and in more rotations, bent and released her body fluidly, making it all look natural—because in that moment, it was. It was the natural outpouring of rage, a feeling she’d only just learned how to express. Against the background of the audience’s gasps, Davis felt more human—yet more euphoric—than ever before. She was transforming anger into something beautiful.

  And then, a crazy thing happened. She felt it.

  She felt her mom, watching, from somewhere. Or maybe inside her, guiding her. Energy soared through her veins. She was powerful. She was free.

  She had done it.

  Finally, it was over, and Davis walked a breathless pas marché before sinking into a deep curtsey. There was a long silence. All she could hear and feel was the heaving of her own rib cage. She was afraid to look up, afraid she’d made a mistake after all.

  Then a single set of hands began to clap. Davis raised her head, catc
hing Fia’s eye. She was standing on her chair, clapping and beaming. Seconds later, the rest of the audience burst into tremendous applause. Davis scanned the audience through the blinding glare of the stage lights, seeing them rise to their feet—first one by one, then in waves.

  Davis straightened as the lights began to dim, signaling the next performer. But the applause and whistles and ovation didn’t stop. Davis spotted Seth, whose face was blank and shell-shocked. She blew him a kiss, winking facetiously. She didn’t care anymore about what he’d done. She’d released it all by following her instincts. She realized with a jolt that her own instincts were what would vault her to greater heights.

  And just then, she was feeling a very strong instinct. She hopped off the stage with an energetic polonaise … right over to the front row of the audience, where Vera and Fia sat. Laughing, she pulled them both into a fierce hug and sat down next to them to watch one last performance: Gaby’s.

  Watching Gaby perform beautifully, Davis caught a glimpse of Seth in her periphery. His face was dark—stony. Davis almost laughed. She’d have bet money that Gaby had given Seth what he deserved. Soon after, Gaby took her bows to her own thunderous applause. The showcase was over.

  No matter what the official vote turned out to be, Davis knew she’d won.

  About the Author

  Author photograph by: Charles Grantham

  AVERY HASTINGS is an author and former book editor from New York City. Avery grew up in Ohio, graduated from the University of Notre Dame and earned her MFA from The New School. When she’s not reading or writing, Avery can usually be found in the park with her affable dog. Like her protagonists in Feuds, she knows how to throw a powerful right hook and once dreamed of becoming a ballerina. In addition to New York, Avery has lived in Mumbai and Paris, but is happy to call Brooklyn home (for now). Sign up for email updates here.

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  Sometimes you have to fight for love

  Don’t miss FEUDS, the epic beginning of the Feuds Series, as Davis and a boy from the wrong side of the tracks are drawn together…

  Available now!

  Can love survive?

  Davis and Cole battle for truth and each other in TORN, the finale of the Feuds Series

  Available July 2015

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  RIVAL. Copyright © 2015 by Avery Hastings. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].

  Cover designed by Elsie Lyons

  Cover photographs: couple © Coka/Shutterstock.com; molecular overlay © watchara/Shutterstock.com

  eISBN: 978-1-4668-5262-4

  First Edition: April 2015