The blonde jerked free.
“Why? She going to throw me again?”
The Black senior finally spoke.
“I didn’t throw you.”
“Whatever.”
“I let go.”
The blonde laughed bitterly.
“You expect people to believe you’re innocent because you’re some boxer?”
The Black senior looked at her.
“No.”
“What then?”
“I expect the cameras to.”
That ended the conversation.
The blonde’s face changed.
She had forgotten.
For months, phones had belonged to the bullies.
Videos caught embarrassment.
Reaction.
Silence.
This time the cameras had recorded sequence.
The tray.
The shove.
The kick.
The attempted slap.
The restraint.
For once, context had not disappeared.
The conference-room door opened.
The dean looked out.
“Come in.”
Inside, the Black senior took the chair nearest the door.
The two girls sat opposite.
The coach arrived moments later and stood behind the Black senior’s side of the table.
Nobody discussed why.
The headmaster folded his hands.
“We’re going to do this one person at a time.”
The blonde immediately said, “She grabbed me.”
The headmaster looked at her.
“I said one person at a time.”
The girl went quiet.
He turned toward the Black senior.
“You first.”
Her mouth became dry.
She hated this.
She had wanted to walk out of the cafeteria, go to chemistry, finish the day, catch the bus, and hit a heavy bag until none of it mattered.
Instead, everyone wanted words.
“What happened?”
She stared at the table.
The coach said quietly:
“Start where you need to.”
The Black senior breathed.
“I was eating.”
Then she stopped.
It sounded too small.
The dean waited.
The girl tried again.
“I was eating lunch. They came over.”
“Both?”
“Yes.”
“What happened then?”
“They started talking.”
“What did they say?”
She looked toward the blonde.
The blonde’s jaw tightened.
The Black senior turned back.
“They called me champ.”
“Is that unusual?”
“No.”
The dean looked confused.
She explained:
“They’ve been doing it for weeks.”
The headmaster asked:
“Why?”
“They found out I box.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
The coach’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The headmaster continued:
“Then?”
“I tried to leave.”
The blonde shook her head.
“She’s lying.”
The headmaster raised a hand.
The Black senior continued.
“She blocked me.”
“Who?”
“The blonde student.”
“Then?”
“She grabbed my tray.”
“Did you pull back?”
“For a second.”
“Then?”
“I let go.”
“Why?”
The girl looked at him as if the answer were obvious.
“So we wouldn’t fight over it.”
The coach looked down.