Even Brenna looked stunned.
Sanaa felt anger rush through her so fast that her hands began shaking.
She clenched them at her sides.
Mackenzie saw.
“There.”
Sanaa understood exactly what she meant.
Proof.
The angry Black girl Mackenzie had been describing finally visible.
Sanaa opened her hands deliberately.
“I am angry.”
Mackenzie looked surprised.
Sanaa continued.
“You put clay on me, blocked me from leaving, and told me my work only matters because I’m Black.”
Her voice shook.
“I am allowed to be angry.”
Nobody moved.
Mackenzie’s expression changed.
For a moment, embarrassment replaced confidence.
Then anger returned.
“You think you can talk to me however you want.”
Sanaa shook her head.
“I am talking.”
“You always think you’re better than everyone.”
“No.”
“You do.”
“No.”
Mackenzie moved closer.
Brenna reached for her arm.
“Mac.”
Mackenzie pulled away.
Sanaa stepped back.
“I’m done.”
She turned slightly.
Mackenzie’s right arm moved.
The first swing came high and fast.
Sanaa saw motion more than intent.
She ducked.
Mackenzie’s hand passed over her head.
Someone screamed.
Sanaa stumbled sideways.
Mackenzie turned toward her.
“What are you doing?” Sanaa shouted.
Mackenzie came forward again.
Sanaa raised both forearms.
“Stop!”
A second swing came.
Sanaa blocked it.
The impact hurt her forearm but did not knock her down.
She stepped backward.
“Stop!”
Brenna shouted Mackenzie’s name.
Mackenzie ignored her.
She lunged again.
Sanaa ducked low.
Mackenzie’s momentum carried her forward.
Sanaa came up beside her and pushed both hands outward against Mackenzie’s shoulder and upper arm.
Not a punch.
Not a planned technique.
Enough to create distance.
Mackenzie staggered.
She regained her balance.
Then came forward again.
Sanaa moved sideways.
Mackenzie swung wider.
Sanaa caught the forearm, redirected it, and stepped away.
Mackenzie’s foot slipped on clay dust near the wheel stations.
Her balance disappeared.
She fell hard onto one hip and side.
The room exploded in gasps.
Sanaa froze.
Mackenzie stayed on the floor.
Sanaa did not go toward her.
She did not kick.
She did not strike again.
She lowered her hands slowly.
Clay still covered the center of her hoodie.
The silence afterward felt enormous.
Brenna crouched near Mackenzie.
“You okay?”