When Kelsey Reed ordered me away from my own lunch table, she thought I was the quiet girl nobody would defend.
I was sitting alone near the cafeteria windows at Riverview High, picking the onions out of my chicken sandwich, when Kelsey stopped beside my table. Her shadow covered my tray.
"Seniors only," she said. "Move."
I looked past her. The cafeteria was half empty. Three tables near the vending machines had no one sitting at them. Another table by the doors held only two backpacks.
"There are empty tables everywhere," I said.
Kelsey glanced around like she had not noticed them.
"I want this one."
She said it calmly, but everyone nearby understood what she meant. It was not about the table. It was about making me stand up in front of people.
My name is Maya Carter. I was seventeen, a junior, and I had learned to eat lunch alone after my best friend transferred schools that fall. I wore a mustard-yellow sweatshirt most days because my mom said the color made me look less tired. My hair was in neat cornrows, and my lunch always came in the same scratched blue container.
I did not look like trouble.
That was exactly why Kelsey chose me.
Kelsey Reed was a senior with a maroon cardigan, a high ponytail, and a group of girls who followed her from class to class. She was not the loudest person in school, but she never needed to be. People moved when she entered a room.
Teachers called her confident.
Students called her something else when she was out of earshot.
She placed one hand on my table and leaned closer.
"You heard me."
"I heard you," I said. "I just don't understand why you think I have to move."
The girl behind her gave a short laugh.
Kelsey's smile disappeared.
For weeks, she had been testing people. She took seats in the library, cut into lines, borrowed things without asking, and acted offended whenever someone wanted them back. Most students let it go because arguing with Kelsey meant becoming her next story.
I had watched it happen to a freshman named Eli Parker. Kelsey had taken his phone during study hall and passed it around while he begged her to give it back. When he reported it, she told the assistant principal he had handed it to her as a joke.
Nothing happened.
Eli stopped bringing his phone to school.
That was how Kelsey worked. She pushed until someone surrendered, then acted like surrender proved she had been right.
I kept my eyes on her hand.
"Why this table?" I asked.
"Because I said so."
"That's not an answer."
A few heads turned. The cafeteria noise softened around us. I could hear the ice machine dropping cubes behind the counter.
Kelsey straightened.
"You must be new."
"I'm not."