The first cut sliced through several inches of green fabric near her right hip.
The sound was small.
The visual was not.
A strip of pleated material separated and dropped.
Asha gasped.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Several students laughed reflexively.
Someone raised a phone.
Brianna cut again.
This time Asha tried moving away, but Brianna held part of the skirt tightly enough that the fabric stretched between them.
The scissors closed.
A larger section tore downward.
Green cloth fell around their shoes.
“Stop!”
Asha grabbed at the remaining skirt with one hand, trying to keep it closed against her body.
Brianna finally released the fabric.
The dress hung unevenly along one side.
Part of Asha’s upper thigh was exposed where the pleated material had been cut away.
She looked down.
For a moment the entire terrace blurred.
She heard laughter behind Brianna.
Not everyone.
Enough.
Asha’s eyes filled.
Brianna lifted the scissors loosely near her shoulder.
“What?”
Asha looked up.
“You cut my dress.”
“You said it came from costumes.”
“That doesn’t make it yours.”
Brianna laughed.
“Relax. Calhoun can probably sew it.”
Asha stared at her.
The scissors moved closer as Brianna gestured.
Asha stepped backward instinctively.
“Get those away from my face.”
“They’re scissors, not a gun.”
“Put them down.”
Brianna stepped closer.
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Act like everything anyone does to you is some historic injustice.”
Asha’s tears spilled.
She hated that they did.
Brianna saw them.
For one instant, satisfaction crossed her face before she hid it.
“You wanted everyone looking at you tonight anyway.”
Asha shook her head.
“You are sick.”
“There’s the attitude.”
Asha almost laughed through the tears.
The phrase was so predictable it had become absurd.
Sophie stopped smiling completely.
Tyler lowered his cup.
Cole looked toward the driveway as though he wanted to be somewhere else.
Brianna lifted the scissors again.
Asha raised one hand.
“Do not come closer to me with those.”
“Why?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Brianna.”
Sophie grabbed her wrist lightly.
“That’s enough.”
Brianna pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
The hypocrisy would have been funny under different circumstances.
Asha looked down at the destroyed green fabric.
Ms. Calhoun’s careful seam.
Monique’s half-inch hem.
Hours of work.
Her hands started shaking.
She reached for her phone.
Brianna laughed.
“Calling the principal?”
“No.”
“Your mom?”
Asha looked at the screen.
“Someone who can get me out of here.”
She texted one sentence.
Dad, can you come now?
Malcolm was eleven minutes away.
He had spent the evening at a memorial-service planning dinner with a church family whose funeral would take place Monday. He wore a charcoal suit without a tie, white dress shirt, and black dress shoes. His Escalade still carried several folders from the funeral home.
When Asha’s message appeared, he called immediately.
She did not answer.
He called Monique.
Monique knew Asha had been upset about Brianna but had no idea what had just happened.
Malcolm drove toward Harcourt Estate.
Back on the terrace, Asha tried stepping around Brianna.