Sanaa stepped left.
Mackenzie mirrored her again.
“Stop blocking me.”
“Stop acting like I attacked you.”
“You touched me with something after I told you not to.”
“You are so dramatic.”
Sanaa’s voice rose for the first time.
“Get out of my way.”
Mackenzie leaned closer.
“There she is.”
Sanaa’s anger turned cold.
The phrase revealed something.
Mackenzie looked almost satisfied.
“You wanted this.”
“What?”
“You wanted me angry.”
Mackenzie laughed.
“Please.”
“You keep saying I have an attitude before I say anything.”
Sanaa looked around the room.
“Then you keep pushing until I finally do.”
Mackenzie’s smile disappeared.
“That’s insane.”
“No.”
Sanaa wiped clay from her sleeve.
“It’s convenient.”
Brenna stepped forward.
“Both of you need to stop.”
Sanaa looked at her.
“I am trying to leave.”
Mackenzie answered before Brenna could.
“Nobody is keeping you here.”
Sanaa pointed toward the sink.
“Then move.”
For half a second, nobody spoke.
Mackenzie stepped aside.
Sanaa started walking.
She made it two steps.
“Diversity queen.”
The words came quietly from behind her.
Sanaa stopped.
The room heard them anyway.
She turned.
Mackenzie stared back.
Brenna closed her eyes.
“Mackenzie.”
Sanaa walked back two steps.
Not close enough to touch.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“Say it again.”
Mackenzie smiled.
“Why?”
“Because you keep pretending everybody else puts race into this.”
The phone near the shelves remained recording.
Sanaa continued.
“So say it clearly.”
Mackenzie stepped toward her.
“You want clearly?”
“Yes.”
“You got a fellowship because organizations love stories like yours.”
“What story?”
“You know.”
“No.”
“You.”
“That is not an answer.”
Mackenzie’s voice became louder.
“A Black girl making all this broken-looking pottery about struggle.”
Sanaa stared at her.
“My artist statement never mentioned struggle.”
“Your work does.”
“You decided that.”
“Everyone sees it.”
“No.”
Sanaa pointed toward the bowl.
“You saw me.”
Mackenzie laughed.
“Same difference.”
That sentence silenced the room.