Madison and Kayla stood over the railing holding empty cups.
Kayla’s smile vanished immediately.
Madison still looked amused.
“What the hell?”
Imani shouted.
The courtyard grew louder.
Then she heard another laugh behind her.
Kendall.
Imani turned.
Kendall walked toward her wearing the familiar olive jacket over a white cropped top, black pants, and light-colored sneakers.
She looked pleased.
Not surprised.
That was the moment Imani understood.
“You did this.”
Kendall smiled.
“Spirit Week.”
Imani stared.
“You did this.”
“Relax.”
The word hit harder than the liquid.
Imani put the recorder case on a dry ledge.
“You had them dump that on me.”
Kendall looked upward.
“Maybe they thought you needed cooling off.”
Imani wiped more liquid from her eyes.
Students gathered.
Phones appeared.
She hated that before anything else.
The audience.
Again.
Kendall stepped closer.
“Where’s the radio voice?”
Imani froze.
There it was.
Not Spirit Week.
Not random.
The same obsession.
Six months compressed into one sentence.
Kendall smiled.
“Come on.”
She imitated the announcement tone.
“Good afternoon, Eastborough.”
Several students reacted uncomfortably.
Imani looked at her.
“You planned this because of my voice?”
Kendall rolled her eyes.
“You seriously think everything is that deep.”
“My clothes are soaked.”
“They’ll dry.”
“My hair is soaked.”
“It’s Gatorade.”
“You had two people wait upstairs.”
Kendall laughed.
“Listen to yourself.”
“What part is wrong?”
That question stopped her briefly.
Imani continued.
“You filled the cups?”
Kendall said nothing.
“You told them where I’d walk?”
Nothing.
“Then came downstairs to watch?”
Kendall’s expression hardened.
“You think you’re a lawyer now?”
“No.”
Imani’s voice shook.
“I think you’re a coward.”
The crowd reacted.
Kendall stepped closer.
“What did you say?”
“You needed two girls on a balcony to pour something on me so you could laugh.”
Imani’s anger finally arrived fully.
“You’re a coward.”
Kendall’s face reddened.
“There’s the real voice.”
Imani stared.
“You still don’t get it.”
“Oh, I get it.”
“No.”
Imani pointed at herself.
“This is my real voice too.”
Kendall smirked.
“Sure.”
“I talk how I talk.”
“Depending who’s watching.”
“Everybody does.”
“Not like you.”
Imani almost laughed.
“You have spent six months trying to decide how Black I’m supposed to sound.”
Kendall’s smile disappeared.