“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.
Brianna blocked her.
Asha stopped.
“Move.”
“You’re really leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Because of a dress?”
“Because you cut it with scissors.”
“You are so dramatic.”
Asha looked at the students watching.
“You all saw it.”
Nobody answered immediately.
Sophie finally said, “Yeah.”
Brianna turned.
“What?”
“You did cut it.”
“I know I cut it.”
“Then stop acting like she imagined it.”
The group shifted.
Brianna had expected laughter.
Now she was losing the audience.
That changed her tone.
“She’s been trying to ruin me for months.”
Asha stared.
“I have tried to get you to stop talking about me.”
“You got me suspended.”
“You wrote the messages.”
“You reported them.”
“Yes.”
“Exactly.”
Asha shook her head.
“That is not the same thing.”
“You make everything sound racist.”
“You made race the explanation for every single thing I earned.”
“Because it mattered.”
Silence.