She lifted one hand from the bike.
“I am going home.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“You always say that whenever somebody calls you out.”
“Calls me out for what?”
“For acting like everybody owes you special treatment.”
Zoe stared at her.
“What special treatment am I getting while loading books onto a bicycle?”
Someone behind Evelyn laughed.
It was small.
Evelyn heard it.
Her face changed.
She looked down at the blue bike.
Then, without warning, she lifted her right leg and kicked hard at the front basket and wheel.
The bicycle jerked sideways.
The silver basket twisted.
Books launched onto the pavement.
One red binder struck the ground open.
A notebook slid beneath another bicycle.
Zoe grabbed the handlebars to keep the bike from falling completely.
For two seconds, nobody spoke.
Evelyn smiled.
“There. Now you have something real to complain about.”
Zoe looked at the scattered books.
Then at Evelyn.
“Why would you do that?”
“It’s a bike.”
“You kicked my stuff onto the ground.”
“You’re fine.”
Zoe released the handlebars.
“Move.”
Evelyn stayed where she was.
Zoe stepped around the bicycle toward the books.
Evelyn moved with her.
“Where are you going?”
“To pick up my stuff.”
“You’re not going to say anything?”
“I said move.”
Evelyn laughed.
“You’ve spent the whole year getting me punished and now you want to walk away?”
Zoe stopped.
“No.”
She looked directly at Evelyn.
“You spent the whole year doing things after adults told you to stop.”
The students behind them reacted.
One whispered, “Damn.”
Evelyn heard that too.
The audience was shifting.
She stepped closer.
“You think you’re better than me.”
“No.”
“Everybody thinks you’re perfect.”
“That is your problem.”
“You got the grant.”
“I applied.”
“You got the seminar.”
“So did you.”
“You got every college thing.”
“I did the work.”
Each answer made Evelyn’s face tighter.
Finally she pointed at Zoe’s bicycle.
“And you act like all this makes you some kind of symbol.”