Chapter 3
Victoria's POV
Without Mia's sleeping pills, I crushed tryouts. Main flyer position—mine.
Meanwhile, without my money, Mia was barely surviving. Her training shoes were falling apart, soles worn down to nothing. Every landing she slipped, every move she fumbled. Coach ripped into her for being "distracted," "not championship material."
Watching her struggle? Beautiful.
Last time, she wore my clothes, took my position, stole my life.
Nationals day, I arrived at the locker room an hour early.
I opened my locker. Brand-new silver training shoes sat inside—custom-made last week, "VV" embroidered on the side.
I picked them up and flipped them over.
The soles were coated with a clear, oily substance. Sharp chemical smell hit my nose. Under the lights, the stuff had a slick, greasy sheen.
Industrial lubricant.
I laughed.
This bitch really wouldn't quit.
I put the shoes back and pulled out an identical backup pair from the bottom of my bag—I'd expected she wouldn't go down without a fight.
Then I grabbed my phone and called my brother—NYPD detective.
"Jake, it's me... Yeah, today's the competition... I need you to do something for me..."
The competition was about to start.
The arena was packed. Banners snapped in the wind, the band blasted fight songs. The VIP section was packed with college scouts in suits, clipboards and evaluation forms in hand.
I was stretching on the sidelines when Mia walked over.
"Vic!" Her smile was sickeningly sweet. "You nervous?"
Her eyes dropped to the shoes on my feet. Satisfaction flashed across her face.
"Those shoes look SICK!" she said. "Silver really suits you."
I looked up. Blank face.
"Still mad at me?" Her voice turned wounded. "Vic, I really didn't mean to hurt you... For such a big competition, you're gonna KILL IT in those shoes!"
I stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.
"Mia, I've been thinking."
She froze. "About what?"
"The main flyer position." I stood up, dusting off my knees. "It's yours today."
The smile on Mia's face cracked.
"What?"
"You heard me." I raised my voice so everyone around could hear. "Main flyer position. You're taking it today."
"Vic, that's YOUR position!" She stepped back. "I can't—"
"Why not?" My smile widened. "Look at all these scouts from top schools! Perfect chance to show what you've got!"
Teammates started gathering around.
"Whoa, Victoria's giving her spot to Mia?"
"Wow, that's generous!"
Coach walked over, looking confused. "Vic, what are you talking about?"
"Coach, Mia's been working her ass off this semester." I said. "We should give our rising stars a shot, right?"
The crowd started applauding. Someone shouted: "Go Mia!"
"Mia!" Coach called out. "Victoria's handing you a gift here. Take it! This is huge for you!"
Cheers erupted from the stands. Everyone was watching Mia expectantly.
She was trapped.
If she kept refusing, she'd look ungrateful. And people would wonder why she was so scared to perform.
"I..." Her voice shook. "Okay... I won't let you down!"
"Wait." I walked over to my equipment bag and grabbed those silver shoes.
"Your shoes are falling apart." I walked up to her and pressed the shoes into her hands. "Take these. Got a backup pair. Brand new. Best grip on the market. You'll stick like glue."
Mia stared at the shoes. Her face went white.
"No... I don't need—"
"Come on, don't be modest!" I said loudly, smiling. "Look at your soles—they're completely worn down. It's dangerous. These are top of the line."
Teammates nodded in agreement:
"She's right, Mia, those shoes are a hazard."
"Those must be like three hundred bucks. Victoria's so generous."
"Try them on!"
"Hurry UP!" Coach pressed. "You're on in five minutes!"
Mia clutched the shoes, fingers gripping so tight her knuckles went white.
Everyone was watching. She had no choice.
"Thank... thank you, Vic." She forced the words out.
"Change NOW!" Coach barked.
Mia crouched down, hands trembling as she took off her worn shoes and put on the silver ones.
The lubricant on the soles gleamed under the lights.
When she stood up, she looked sick. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
"Break a leg." I stepped aside and gestured toward center mat.
The music swelled.
Mia walked toward the mat like she was heading to the gallows, movements stiff.
She stood at the mark, staring at her feet. Breathing hard.
Deep breath. She started her run-up.
One, two, launch!
She flew into the air. Too tense, movements completely off.
But just as her feet were about to hit the ground—
"AHHHHH—!"
A scream tore through the entire arena.
Mia's feet shot out from under her. She lost all control, body twisting at a sickening angle, then crashed hard onto the floor.
CRACK!
The crack of breaking bone echoed through the arena, cutting through everything.
Dead silence.
Then gasps rippled through the crowd.
The music cut off. The entire venue erupted into chaos.
Mia lay on the floor, clutching her grotesquely twisted right leg, screaming like she was being murdered. Coach and medical staff rushed onto the mat. Carter vaulted over the barrier from the stands, shoving through the crowd to get to her.
"Mia! Oh my GOD!" Carter dropped to his knees, eyes wild.
"My leg... Carter... it HURTS..." Mia was drenched in sweat, tears mixing with her makeup, a complete mess.
I stood there, face blank, watching.
Last time, I was the one lying there in agony. And they held each other just like this.
Karma's a bitch.
The medics strapped Mia onto a stretcher. Just as they were about to wheel her away, Mia suddenly grabbed Carter's hand with the last of her strength, her shaking finger pointing straight at me.
"It was HER... It was VICTORIA!" she shrieked, voice raw. "She did something to the shoes! She MADE me wear them! She tried to KILL me!"
