“Mackenzie.”
“What?”
“Just work.”
Mackenzie laughed.
“I am.”
She reached toward the table.
Beside Sanaa’s bowl sat a rough lump of reclaimed clay.
Mackenzie picked it up.
Sanaa saw the movement.
“Put that down.”
Mackenzie kneaded the clay once between her hands.
“What?”
“That’s mine.”
“It’s scrap.”
“I know.”
“Then relax.”
Sanaa straightened.
“Mackenzie.”
The room noticed.
Brenna stopped working.
Mackenzie looked directly at Sanaa.
Then, without warning, she stepped forward and pressed the wet clay hard against the center of Sanaa’s navy hoodie.
For one second, neither moved.
Mackenzie dragged her hand slightly downward.
The gray clay smeared across Sanaa’s chest in a thick irregular patch.
Someone gasped.
Another student laughed from pure shock.
Sanaa looked down.
Clay clung to the zipper, fabric, and white tank top beneath the partially open hoodie.
Her hands lowered slowly.
“What the hell?”
Mackenzie dropped the remaining clay onto the table.
“Now your clothes have texture too.”
Nobody laughed this time.
Sanaa looked up.
“Why would you do that?”
“It washes out.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Oh my God.”
Mackenzie rolled her eyes.
“It’s clay.”
“You put it on me.”
“You work in a ceramics room.”
“I was standing here.”
“Congratulations.”
Sanaa stared at her.
Brenna stepped closer.
“Mac, that was messed up.”
Mackenzie turned.
“Stay out of it.”
Sanaa looked down at the hoodie again.
It had been a gift from Derrick.
Not expensive.
Not irreplaceable.
That was irrelevant.
She began scraping clay from the zipper with two fingers.
Mackenzie laughed.
“Careful. Maybe Mercer can submit the hoodie to another competition.”
Sanaa looked up sharply.
There it was.
The fellowship again.
Four months later.
Still.
“You cannot stand it.”
Mackenzie folded her arms.
“Stand what?”
“That I won.”
Brenna said Sanaa’s name quietly, as if warning her.
Sanaa ignored her.
“You have spent half the year inventing reasons it didn’t count.”
“That is not true.”
“The judging was blind.”
“I know.”
“My portfolio was blind.”
“I know.”
“You knew that when you sent those messages.”
Mackenzie’s face hardened.
“This is exactly why nobody can talk to you.”
“Because I remember facts?”