Because it was the first thing she made after deciding Mackenzie did not get to supervise her imagination.
The peace lasted two weeks.
Then Hawthorne Ridge announced the Senior Arts Showcase.
Every graduating student in advanced visual-arts courses could submit one piece for exhibition in the school library.
Faculty would select six pieces for purchase using a small alumni fund.
The works would remain permanently displayed around campus.
Sanaa submitted No Explanation Attached.
Mackenzie submitted a porcelain vessel from her fellowship portfolio.
Both were selected for the exhibit.
Sanaa’s piece was also chosen for purchase.
Mackenzie’s was not.
Nobody ranked the six purchases.
The committee simply selected pieces based on where they would fit around school and the mix of mediums available.
That nuance did not survive social conversation.
By lunchtime, people were saying Sanaa had won another award.
She had not.
Mackenzie apparently heard the same rumor.
She entered ceramics class angry.
“Congratulations again.”
Sanaa looked up from wedging clay.
“For what?”
“Your permanent display.”
“They’re buying six pieces.”
“I know.”
“So congratulations to six people.”
Mackenzie laughed.
“Right.”
Sanaa stopped working.
“Say what you want to say.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Then stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Making every normal sentence sound like you’re accusing me of stealing something from you.”
The room became quiet.
Mackenzie’s cheeks reddened.
“You think everything is about you.”
Sanaa stared.
“You walked to my table.”
Mercer emerged from the kiln room before it escalated.
Both girls stopped.
Nothing else happened that day.
But Mackenzie started a new private chat that night.
This one included Brenna Walsh, a brunette senior in Advanced Ceramics who wore a maroon college sweatshirt almost every week, and two girls from volleyball.
Brenna had never been Sanaa’s enemy.
She had laughed at some of Mackenzie’s jokes.
She had also shared tools with Sanaa and once brought cupcakes for the entire studio.
Her role became complicated precisely because she did not think of herself as participating in bullying.
The first messages were mostly frustration.
She gets everything.
Brenna responded:
It’s six pieces Mac.
Mackenzie:
You know what I mean.
Brenna:
Actually no.
Mackenzie:
Every time there’s something they can use her for, she gets picked.
Another girl replied:
The fellowship was blind.
Mackenzie:
Can everyone stop saying that like it magically means nothing else matters?
Brenna sent no response.
The next conversation happened after Mercer praised Sanaa’s new bowl.
Mackenzie wrote:
She literally makes damaged-looking pottery and everybody calls it deep.
One girl answered:
Then make damaged pottery lol.
Brenna added a laughing emoji.
Later:
Watch me put a thumbprint in one and they’ll probably call it commentary.
Brenna replied:
Do not touch her stuff. I’m serious.
Mackenzie sent:
Relax.
That screenshot would matter later.
At the time, nobody reported it.
April arrived.
Graduation felt close enough that most seniors entered a strange emotional truce with people they disliked.
College decisions had been made.