“I want you to explain it.”
Blaire glanced toward the people watching.
Then she laughed.
“You’re so exhausting.”
Imani opened the driver-side door.
“Then stop following me.”
She started to get into the car.
Blaire stepped forward.
Imani turned.
The two stood close enough that neither needed to raise her voice.
“You don’t belong with these people,” Blaire said.
Imani looked past her toward the orange sports car.
“With what people?”
Blaire did not answer.
“Rich people?”
“Crestwood people?”
“White people?”
Blaire’s face flushed.
“There you go.”
Imani shook her head.
“No.”
“There you go.”
“You keep building the sentence.”
“I just finish it for you.”
Blaire’s jaw tightened.
The first physical movement happened quickly.
She stepped forward and swung with her right hand.
Imani leaned backward and the strike passed close to her face.
People around the pumps shouted.
Megan started running toward them.
Blaire swung again.
Imani raised one forearm and blocked it.
“Stop!”
Blaire did not.
She rushed forward.
Imani moved sideways beside the graphite car, trying to create enough distance that the vehicle was no longer directly behind her.