“You told me you weren’t serious.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You said we could get her kicked out of boxing.”
“No, I said—”
The dean slammed one palm against the table.
“Stop.”
Everyone froze.
He looked toward the Black senior.
“I’m sorry.”
The girl stared.
“For what?”
“For asking you to sit here while they argue about wording.”
He stood.
“We have enough to separate statements.”
He looked toward both bullies.
“You are each going to different offices.”
The blonde asked:
“Are we suspended?”
“Your families are being called.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the one you have.”
Then he looked toward the Black senior.
“You are not being disciplined.”
She breathed for the first time in what felt like minutes.
He continued:
“But we need to notify your guardian.”
Her relief vanished.
“My mother is working.”
“We can call.”
“She can’t leave.”
“She doesn’t have to.”
The girl shook her head.
“No.”
The headmaster looked surprised.
“No?”
“Call my grandmother.”
The coach understood.
The dean nodded.
“We’ll do that.”
The Black senior gathered her backpack.
Her hands had begun trembling.
The coach noticed.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Locker room.”
“I have class.”
“No.”
“I’m fine.”
The coach looked at her stained shirt.
The broken backpack.
The trembling hands.
Then her face.
“No, you aren’t.”
For once, the Black senior did not argue.
In the locker room, she sat on a wooden bench wearing an oversized school athletic sweatshirt while her stained uniform shirt soaked in a sink.
The coach crouched several feet away.
The girl stared at the floor.
“They knew.”
“Yes.”
“They actually knew.”
“Yes.”
“They weren’t just being stupid.”
“No.”
The girl laughed bitterly.
“They wanted me to lose it.”
The coach said nothing.
The Black senior’s hands tightened.
“I could’ve given it to them.”
“You didn’t.”
“I wanted to.”
“I know.”
“You don’t.”
The coach looked at her.
The girl continued:
“When she kicked my bag…”
Her voice changed.
“I wanted to put her through the table.”
The coach remained calm.
“That thought doesn't scare me.”
“It scares me.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew how.”
The coach leaned forward.
“Knowing how is not the same as doing it.”
The girl shook her head.
“What if next time I don’t stop?”
“Then we make sure there isn’t a next time.”
The Black senior laughed again.
“You think the school can do that?”
“I think they should have done more before now.”
The girl looked at her.