“How did you think of it?”
Madison was silent.
Amara waited.
Finally, Madison whispered, “I thought if people believed you cheated, they wouldn’t keep praising you.”
The words settled between them.
Amara looked toward the courtyard.
A group of younger students were walking past the fountain, laughing about something one of them had said.
She remembered being their age, believing that school was a place where effort would be recognized and mistakes would be corrected.
She wondered when Madison had learned to see recognition as something that could only belong to one person.
Then she wondered whether it mattered.
“You could have competed with me,” Amara said.
Madison looked up.
“What?”
“You could have studied harder. Asked for help. Improved your work. You could have tried to earn the fellowship.”
“I did study.”
“Then why not let the committee decide?”
Madison had no answer.
Amara continued.
“You didn’t just accuse me. You tried to humiliate me. You destroyed work I spent hours completing. You took my phone and used it to put me on display.”
Madison’s eyes dropped.
“I’m sorry.”
Amara studied her.
“Are you sorry because you hurt me, or because the school found out?”
Madison’s face tightened.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
Madison looked away.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she answered quietly.
“Both.”
Amara nodded once.
“At least that’s honest.”
Madison wiped her eyes quickly, irritated by the tears.
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
“You can start by telling the truth.”
“I will.”
“And stop spreading the accusation.”
“I have.”
“Tell the people you told that you were wrong.”
Madison nodded.
“I can do that.”
“And don’t expect me to forgive you just because you apologized.”
Madison flinched.
“I wasn’t asking you to.”
“Good.”
A long silence followed.
Then Madison said, “I really am sorry.”
Amara looked at her.
“I heard you.”
She stood.
Madison remained on the bench.
“Amara?”
Amara turned.
“Do you think we could ever be friends?”
The question seemed to surprise both of them.
Amara considered it.