Academic Rivals Novels & Stories

“Does he own this place? I have every right to be here.” Alaric raised an eyebrow. “No need for the attitude. I was just concerned about you, you know. We’ve known each other long enough.” They’d known each other a long time, yes, but they’d never been friends. From grade school through high school and even into the business world, they were often compared. Their families worked in similar industries, and they were close in age. Their rivalry started when they first met at six years old, in one summer incident where Lena accidentally hit Alaric with a ball. He thought she was rude; she thought he was soft. They’d been at odds ever since.

he muttered. I stayed quiet, and so did Arda and the rest. “K3, can I sniff your uniforms?!” “I’m counting on you to win the next basketball match!” The shouting only got louder, and the girls were practically melting. Even the guys stared at the K3 with admiration. Well, what did I expect? In this school, the K3 were treated like royalty, though only my roommates and a few others knew how pretentious they really were. Drake, Jeff, and Dray made up the famous trio.

"Why would you do this?" Racheal Louis shouted, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief. Her younger brother Carl stared at the floor, his hands stuffed into his pockets, unable to meet her eyes. "I... I didn’t think Chelsea would actually win," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Before she could speak, Owen told her, "Don't be afraid. They came from the countryside and probably don't even know what an academic competition is. We've trained for the competitions for years. Why should we fear them?" From the countryside? Didn't he know what an academic competition was? I looked at Connor and laughed. "This should be fun." Connor said lazily, "Since that's what you think..." I finished his sentence with a faint smile. "Fine." "We accept the wager." We would play along. We would show them what true domination looked like.

She didn’t even give a damn about the fact that my men were behind me. If anything, I know she’d go for my head given the chance. It was amusing. And also annoying as hell. Amara had been my rival for as long as I could remember. It dated as far back as when we were kids. It wasn’t just an individual rivalry though. This was a family rivalry. The Vitales and the DeLaurentis’ had been at each other’s necks for decades. Our rivalry was something born as a result of it. Even now that I’d taken then position of Don, it didn’t mean things would end just yet. I hated her and she hated me just at much. I hated her father Viktor and the rest of her brothers. Nothing could dissolve or change that. Th

says Thames, having heard of it where I didn't, "it's a high school like here, but there's no magic involved. I think they're meant to help students who have a natural inclination to the sciences get s start in high school and then not have to wait until later in life." "Why are they a rival?" I ask. "They tend to look at us with some disdain because of the magic in our school, and school name too," says Hala with a shrug, "at least, that's what I've heard." "Not all the kids there, in an unhealthy way," details Tula, "from what I've heard, it's mostly a healthy rivalry that's present between CCMS and ASI. Only some teens from here and there that are maybe biased."

His warriors followed without a word. The moment they were gone, Rowan exploded. “What the hell was that?” Aria exhaled slowly. “A rival Alpha.” Rowan ran a hand through his hair. “He’s dangerous.” “Yes.” Rowan looked at her. “And he wants you.” Aria turned to face him. “He wants power.” Rowan’s jaw clenched. “That’s not what I saw.” For a moment their eyes locked. The tension between them flared again. Hot. Complicated. Rowan stepped closer.

Usually, the weight of the pads made me feel invincible. Today, they just felt like lead. ​I started toward the tunnel, the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of skates on the rubber matting filling the hallway. That’s when I saw him. ​Michael Rossi was leaning against the doorframe of the visitors' locker room. He didn’t play for us. He played for the State Rebels, our biggest rivals. Our school oversees two universities: Northwood and Westwood College. Even though both are under the same administration, the tension between them is fierce. Each has its own hockey team, and the rivalry between the Northwood Knights and the Westwood Rebels isn’t just about sports, it’s personal.

“If we’re going to that gala as partners, everyone is going to be looking at us. They’re going to be looking for the spark. They’re going to want to know if the rumors are true.” “What rumors?” Ethan asked, his voice trembling. “That the two biggest rivals in the history of the academy didn’t just merge their designs,” Liam said, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over the back of Ethan’s hand. “That they merged everything else, too.”

With the particular quiet of people who’d encountered something they couldn’t match and were still processing the geometry of their defeat. Alaric met me at the antechamber door. “You spoke of death,” he said, and his voice was softer than before, stripped of its aristocratic polish. “They’ll remember that. They’ll remember that you stood in front of a god and spoke of being murdered by fate. That’s not a debate tactic, Lumira. That’s a declaration of war.” “It’s both,” I said. He laughed, the sound startled out of him, genuine in a way that his polished performance had never been. “Our rivals are going to hate you. The Council’s going to fear you. And every student in that Hall who’s ever b