Samantha moved into her path.
“No, you wanted to talk.”
“I said what I wanted.”
“Then finish.”
“You spent three weeks trying to make me miserable because a coach asked me to do one routine.”
“That’s not why.”
“Then tell me why.”
Samantha’s jaw tightened.
“You walked in here acting like you were better than everybody.”
Zaria blinked.
“When?”
“From the first day.”
“The day you told me I couldn’t use a school hallway?”
Tiffany laughed.
Samantha shot her a look.
Zaria continued.
“I didn’t want your position.”
“You think I care about that?”
Samantha stepped closer until their faces were less than a foot apart.
“You have no idea what I care about.”
“Then stop making it my problem.”
The smile disappeared.
Samantha bumped Zaria’s shoulder.
Deliberately.
Zaria stepped back.
“Don’t.”
Samantha did it again.
Tiffany’s phone was recording now.
Zaria noticed.
That confirmed everything.
They wanted a reaction.
She picked up her bag.
“Move.”
Samantha blocked her.
“Or what?”
Zaria turned toward the opposite direction.
Brooke stepped sideways.
Not completely blocking her.
Enough to slow her.
“You guys really want to do this with a camera running?”
Samantha glanced toward Tiffany.
Then smiled.
“Who’s doing anything?”
She tried to walk around.
Samantha reached for the strap of her bag.
Zaria pulled it away.
“Don’t touch my stuff.”
Samantha grabbed the strap again.
Zaria let the bag drop.
“Happy?”
Something about Zaria refusing to fight over the bag frustrated her.
She stepped forward and shoved Zaria with both hands.
Zaria stumbled into the lockers.
The metal doors rattled behind her.
Tiffany’s smile disappeared slightly.
Brooke whispered, “Sam.”
Zaria straightened.
“I’m telling you once.”
Her voice was low.
“Don’t touch me again.”
Samantha laughed.
“You going to cry?”
“You going to tell Coach Ortiz?”
“If I need to.”
“Of course.”
Samantha stepped even closer.
“That’s what you do.”
Zaria frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You come here for five minutes, everybody thinks you’re amazing, coaches love you, and the second somebody doesn’t kiss your ass, you run to an adult.”
Zaria stared at her.
“You put food in my locker.”
“Prove it.”
There it was.
Not an admission.
Close enough to tell Zaria she had been right.
Zaria nodded slowly.
“I don’t need to.”
She bent toward her bag.
Samantha grabbed one of her braids.
Pain shot across Zaria’s scalp.
She came upright immediately.
“LET GO.”
Samantha pulled harder.
Brooke backed away.
Tiffany kept recording.
Zaria reached behind herself and tried to free the braid.
“Sam, stop.”
Brooke’s voice sounded nervous now.
Samantha twisted her grip.
Zaria turned with the pull, catching Samantha’s wrist.
“Let go of my hair.”
Samantha shoved her.
Zaria lost balance.
Her hip struck the edge of the wooden bench.
She fell sideways across it and then toward the floor.
The phone camera moved wildly.
For a moment, Zaria was half-seated, half-fallen beside the bench while Samantha remained above her.
Samantha reached down.