True Heiress vs. Fake Queen Bee Episode 11

📖 The Story Continues

True Heiress vs. Fake Queen Bee — Episode 11

The moment Coach Rivera released the captains to finish choosing teams, the gym divided according to Western High’s invisible hierarchy. Students hurried toward Candice before she could call them, insisting they belonged on her side. Their enthusiasm had little to do with dodgeball. A place beside the Kaplan heiress might lead to a castle invitation.

Gail announced that she and her friends would never team up with “smelly losers.” Candice laughed and accepted them with a regal nod, enjoying how quickly classmates competed for her approval. Her team filled with athletes, popular students, and anyone willing to demonstrate loyalty by mocking Hailey. The red side of the court already celebrated as if the score had been decided.

Hailey’s remaining choices stood together uneasily. CeCe adjusted her glasses while Trey stared at the floor, and two smaller students whispered that they should fake injuries. They had spent enough time being dismissed to believe other people’s predictions. Hailey recognized the look because Western High had spent the entire day trying to place it on her face.

“Guys, we’ve got this,” she told them. Her confidence made several heads lift, though no one looked convinced. Across the court, Candice called out that Hailey had been stuck with the losing team. Gail predicted the game would be over in minutes.

CeCe watched the opposing athletes warm up and admitted they all looked terrifyingly fit. Her voice dropped as she said Hailey should not have chosen her; she was better at chemistry than catching objects aimed at her head. Hailey stepped between CeCe and the laughing red team, blocking their view. She refused to let intimidation win before the first throw.

“Then we won’t try to overpower them,” Hailey said. “We’ll be quick and unpredictable.” Years of tennis lessons, fencing drills, and security training had taught her that strength became clumsy when it expected no resistance. Candice’s team had never imagined needing a strategy. That arrogance was an advantage.

Hailey called her players into a huddle. She assigned the fastest students to retrieve balls, instructed the most observant to track throwers, and told CeCe to watch patterns rather than projectiles. Trey would feint toward the center while the others attacked from the sides. The plan gave each supposed weakness a specific purpose.

CeCe listened with growing focus. When Hailey asked whether she could count the rhythm between an opponent catching and throwing, CeCe nodded immediately. Numbers were safe territory, and the fear in her expression eased. For once, someone had treated her mind as an asset rather than an excuse for ridicule.

On the opposite side, Candice made no plan at all. She told her athletes to hit Hailey first and clean up the rest afterward. Gail suggested aiming for the face, which made several teammates laugh. Coach Rivera pretended not to hear the comment while arranging balls along the center line.

Hailey glanced toward Candice and found her watching the blue huddle suspiciously. “What is she up to?” Candice asked Gail. The question revealed the first trace of concern. Hailey smiled and drew her team closer so their final instructions remained private.

They placed their hands together in the center. The gesture felt awkward at first, performed by students unused to belonging to anything admired. Hailey counted to three, and they shouted “Dodgeball” with enough force to surprise themselves. The sound echoed through the gym.

Candice rolled her eyes and called the effort cute. Her team answered with a louder cheer, turning the warm-up into another popularity contest. Yet Hailey saw two red players glance toward CeCe with uncertainty. A coordinated underdog was more difficult to dismiss than a frightened collection of individuals.

Coach Rivera explained the rules while pacing between the teams. A caught ball would eliminate the thrower and return one teammate to play; head shots were prohibited, though his careless delivery suggested enforcement might be inconsistent. Players could not cross the center line. The last side standing would win.

Hailey flexed her fingers and tested the grip of her sneakers against the floor. Her knee still hurt from the cafeteria fall, but she adjusted her stance to protect it. Candice noticed the movement and whispered something to Gail. Both girls looked at the injured leg and smiled.

The discovery confirmed Hailey’s suspicion that Candice would target vulnerability rather than play fairly. She quietly warned CeCe to expect attacks on the weakest-looking players. They would use that predictability, drawing throws before shifting away. CeCe swallowed and nodded.

The teams moved to the back lines. Six balls waited in the center, polished rubber bright beneath the gym lights. Students on the bleachers began chanting Candice’s name, turning the class game into a public coronation. Not one voice called for Hailey.

Instead of discouraging her, the imbalance brought strange clarity. Hailey had spent her life surrounded by people trained to applaud her surname. The silence on her side was more honest than all those rehearsed cheers. If her team won, they would win without inherited influence.

Coach Rivera raised the whistle. Candice leaned forward, poised to sprint, and mouthed that Hailey was dead. Gail fixed her attention on CeCe, already selecting an easy victim. Hailey gave her teammates the signal to hold for half a beat rather than join the initial rush.

The whistle shrieked. Candice’s athletes charged toward the center while Hailey’s line appeared to hesitate. Red hands closed around most of the balls, exactly as the blue team’s strategy required. Their opponents straightened triumphantly, exposed by the certainty that frightened losers would remain still.

Hailey’s hand flashed downward, releasing the second signal. Her team scattered in the directions they had rehearsed, and the first red throws cut through empty air. Surprise crossed Candice’s face as blue players seized the rebounds. The battle had begun, and Hailey’s supposedly helpless team had just stolen its first advantage.