She remained completely still.
The brunette lowered the trash can, laughing so hard she nearly dropped it.
“Oh my God.”
The blonde covered her mouth.
“She looks like she’s about to cry.”
The Black senior opened her eyes.
Her face remained controlled.
But the humiliation burned.
Her heartbeat had already changed.
Fast.
Hard.
Training took over before emotion could.
Breathe through the nose.
Drop the shoulders.
Relax the jaw.
Keep the hands open.
Never make fists.
Never move toward them.
She bent down to pick up her backpack.
The blonde stepped forward.
“Where are you going?”
The Black senior looked at her.
“Move.”
It was the first thing she had said.
The courtyard quieted slightly.
The blonde smiled.
“Oh.”
She stepped closer.
“She talks.”
The Black senior looked past her.
“I said move.”
The brunette came around the other side.
“What happens if we don’t?”
Nothing.
That was the answer.
Nothing could happen.
Nothing was allowed to happen.
The Black senior knew the exact wording printed in the scholarship agreement sitting in a folder beneath her bed.
Any suspension resulting from fighting, violent misconduct, or retaliatory physical aggression prior to enrollment may result in immediate scholarship review and withdrawal.
Four years.
Tuition.
Housing.
Training facilities.
Academic support.
A path out.
Everything she had worked for since she was twelve.
One shove could threaten it.
One punch could erase it.
Even if the other girl deserved it.
Especially if cameras captured only the punch.
So the Black senior lowered her eyes.
She stepped around them.
The brunette shouted behind her.
“There she goes!”
Laughter returned.
The Black senior took another step.
Then the blonde shoved her.
Hard.
Her shoulder twisted.
She caught herself before falling.
The courtyard erupted in shocked noises.
Her backpack slipped from her hand.
She immediately turned.
Every muscle in her body wanted to move.
Her feet had already found balance without conscious thought.
Left foot slightly forward.
Weight centered.
Hands ready.
The blonde saw it.
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across her face.
Then it vanished.
She laughed.
“What?”
The Black senior forced herself to straighten.
She lowered her hands again.
The blonde saw retreat.
Not restraint.
That mistake made her bolder.
She looked down at the backpack.
Then kicked it.
The bag slid across the concrete.
Its zipper struck the edge of a bench.
The worn metal pull snapped.
The backpack burst partially open.
Something red rolled out.
Then something silver.
Then a pair of wrapped training gloves.
The medal spun once across the pavement before landing faceup.
Several students stared.
The brunette stopped laughing.
The blonde looked down.
“What is that?”
Nobody answered.
A boy near the bench leaned closer.