Kelsey reached out.
Instead of examining the medal where it hung, she snatched the ribbon from Amaya’s hand.
Amaya stared.
“Kelsey.”
Kelsey lifted the gold medal near her face.
“Relax.”
“Give it back.”
“I’m looking at it.”
“You grabbed it.”
Kelsey turned the medal over.
“Pretty nice.”
Amaya held out her hand.
“Give it back.”
Kelsey smiled.
“Must feel good.”
“Yes.”
“Especially when they’ve been setting you up for it all year.”
Amaya’s expression changed.
“What?”
Kelsey raised the medal slightly.
“The diversity prize finally came with hardware.”
Two students nearby stopped walking.
Amaya lowered her hand.
“Give me my medal.”
Kelsey laughed.
“See? You can’t even take a joke anymore.”
“I’m not arguing with you.”
“Because you know.”
“I know I won.”
Kelsey’s smile disappeared.
“You think you’re better than everyone now.”
“No.”
“You’ve gotten everything.”
Amaya glanced toward the counseling office.
She did not want this conversation.
“Give it back.”
Kelsey held the medal closer to Amaya’s face.
“You know half those judges wanted the story.”
Amaya stared at her.
“What story?”
“Come on.”
“No. Say it.”
Kelsey looked around.
Phones had started appearing.
She noticed them.
For months, she had claimed Amaya possessed a hidden temper.
Now an audience existed.
“You’ve built your whole speech around being the Black girl everyone supposedly misunderstands.”
Amaya’s voice remained low.
“My speech has research and ten minutes of content.”
“Exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you know what judges want.”
Amaya held out her hand again.
“Give me the medal.”
Kelsey dropped the ribbon slightly.
For one second, Amaya thought she would return it.
Instead, Kelsey let it fall.
The gold medal struck the hallway carpet near the trophy case.
Several students gasped.
Amaya looked down.
Something inside her expression changed.
Not rage.
Disbelief.
“You are unbelievable.”
Kelsey stepped closer.
“There it is.”