“I told you one is reserved.”
Silence again.
“And now you’re standing in front of my bag because somehow that proves something about me.”
A student near the wall laughed quietly.
Camille heard it.
Her face changed.
She pointed at Laila.
“You have made my entire year hell.”
Laila shook her head.
“You made comments.”
“You got people to report me.”
“Other people reported you because they heard you.”
“You took my position.”
“I scored higher.”
The words came out before Laila considered softening them.
Camille stared.
There it was.
The thing nobody had said directly.
The editor selection was not mysterious.
Laila had scored higher.
Camille stepped closer.
“You think you’re better than me.”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I said I scored higher on one selection process.”
“That’s what you always do.”
Laila reached for her bag.
“Move.”
Camille grabbed the strap first.
Laila pulled it back.
“Let go.”
Camille held on.
The bag contained Laila’s personal camera, two batteries, memory cards, a notebook, and Marcus’s ridiculous emergency screwdriver kit.
“Let go of my bag.”
Camille yanked once.
Laila refused to release it.
A student shouted, “Camille, stop.”
Camille finally let go.
The sudden release made Laila step backward.
She caught herself against the metal table.
The professional camera body on top shifted slightly but did not fall.
Laila immediately checked it.
Camille laughed.
“Of course you care more about the camera.”
Laila looked at her.
“I care because it belongs to the school.”
“Everything here belongs to the school.”
“Yes.”
“Including your little position.”
Laila picked up her bag.
“I’m leaving.”
She moved toward the door.
Camille followed.
Laila increased her pace.
Camille moved faster.
“Stop walking away from me.”
Laila turned.
“Why?”