Then somebody behind him said, “Seriously?”
Both turned.
Sloane stood less than ten feet away.
Olive bomber jacket.
White tank top.
Black pants.
White sneakers.
Her red hair fell loose around her shoulders.
Two girls from Student Council stood farther behind her, one already holding a phone because Jalen and the enormous flowers had looked like a cute social-media moment.
Maya’s smile faded.
Sloane looked at the bouquet.
Then at Maya.
“What?”
Maya did not answer.
Sloane moved closer.
“Now you need flowers for getting into college?”
Jalen’s posture changed.
“Walk away, Sloane.”
She ignored him.
Maya held the bouquet against her chest.
“I’m not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever this is.”
Sloane laughed.
“You really have mastered that.”
Maya turned slightly.
Sloane stepped between her and the nearest walkway.
Jalen moved forward.
Maya touched his arm.
“Don’t.”
She did not want him involved.
Sloane looked at the flowers again.
“UNC must love the whole package.”
Maya stared.
There it was.
Not a direct statement.
Enough.
“What package?”
Sloane smiled.
“You know.”
“No.”
Jalen shook his head.
“Sloane, leave.”
She continued looking at Maya.
“Journalism girl. Community medal. School poster child. Now UNC.”
Maya’s voice stayed even.
“You forgot C-plus chemistry.”
One student nearby laughed nervously.
Sloane did not.
“Everything is a joke to you because everything works out.”
“That is not true.”
“You always land exactly where Ridgefield wants you.”
“UNC does not work for Ridgefield.”
Sloane rolled her eyes.
“You know what I mean.”
Maya looked tired now.
“No, Sloane.”
She held the bouquet more tightly.
“I know what you keep refusing to say.”
Silence spread around them.
Several students had started watching.
Sloane noticed.
Her expression changed.
Maya continued.
“If you want to tell everyone I got into UNC because I’m Black, say that.”
Sloane’s face reddened.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’ve been saying versions of it all year.”