Amaya looked up.
“There what is?”
“The real you.”
Amaya almost laughed.
“You threw my state medal on the floor.”
“I dropped it.”
“You grabbed it out of my hand.”
“Because you act like nobody can touch anything you have.”
Amaya bent slightly to pick up the medal.
Kelsey moved into her path.
“Move.”
“Why?”
“I’m done.”
“You’re always done when somebody says something you don’t like.”
Amaya stepped sideways.
Kelsey matched her.
Students began telling Kelsey to stop.
A girl near the trophy case said, “Just let her get it.”
That changed the energy.
Kelsey was no longer controlling the audience.
Amaya tried moving around her again.
Kelsey placed both hands against Amaya’s upper chest and shoved.
Amaya fell backward.
Her left hand hit the carpet first.
One knee struck the floor.
The medal remained a few feet away.
The hallway went silent.
Amaya looked up from the floor.
Kelsey stood over her.
For months, Amaya had wondered whether the hostility would ever become physical.
Now the question had been answered.
She pushed herself up.
“Kelsey, do not touch me again.”
Kelsey laughed nervously.
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
Amaya took one step toward the medal.
“I’m getting my stuff and leaving.”
Kelsey moved again.
Her right arm swung toward Amaya’s face.
Amaya saw it.
She leaned back.
The hand missed.
Students shouted.
Amaya raised both hands.
“Stop.”
Kelsey came forward.
Second swing.
Amaya blocked it with her forearm.
She stepped sideways.
Devon’s voice appeared in her head with irritating clarity.
Distance.
Leave.
Do not prove anything.
Amaya moved toward open hallway space.
Kelsey followed.
“You’re scared now?”
Amaya said nothing.
Kelsey swung again.
Amaya slipped outside it.
This time she countered.
One short strike.
Controlled.
Enough to make Kelsey stumble backward.
Amaya stopped.
There was space.
The fight could have ended.