Imani pressed the button.
“Good morning, Eastborough. It is Tuesday, April twenty-second.”
Her voice sounded slightly shaky.
She heard it.
Kept going.
“Anyone attending today’s chemistry tutoring session should report to Room 214 after dismissal.”
Pause.
“The varsity softball game begins at five.”
Another pause.
“And whoever left one shoe outside the library yesterday, administration has questions.”
Cole looked at her.
That line was not in the script.
Imani smiled.
“Lunch today is chicken sandwiches, vegetarian pasta, or pizza.”
By the end, the shaking was gone.
She removed the headphones.
Cole did not applaud.
Thank God.
He simply said, “Good show.”
Imani nodded.
“Thanks.”
Normal.
That mattered.
The hallway reaction was quieter than she expected.
One junior gave her a thumbs-up.
A freshman said, “Shoe line was funny.”
Most students said nothing.
Classes began.
Life moved.
The internet wanted a comeback speech.
Imani preferred the lunch menu.
Nia understood.
At lunch she sat beside Imani and said, “You know people expected you to say something profound this morning.”
“I did.”
“What?”
“Vegetarian pasta.”
Nia laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fork.
That was the first day the incident became smaller.
Not small.
Smaller.
Kendall returned after suspension under a strict no-contact order.
She no longer entered the media room except to retrieve personal equipment under staff supervision.
Students stared at her.
Some whispered.
Several mocked her online.
One meme showed a Gatorade bottle beside the caption KENDALL’S COMMUNICATION STYLE.
Imani told Nia to stop reposting anything involving her.
“She humiliated you.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“So I don’t want a school where humiliation becomes okay if we vote the person deserves it.”
Nia removed the repost.
“You are irritating.”
“Thank you.”
Avery apologized next.
Not formally.
She approached Imani after media class.
“I was part of it earlier.”
Imani waited.
“The Black Imani joke.”
“Yes.”
“I thought it was funny because Kendall made it sound funny.”
Imani looked at her.
“That does not make it less yours.”
“I know.”
Avery nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
Imani accepted.
They did not become friends.
They became classmates who could work together without pretending history disappeared.
Brooke’s apology was different.
“I should’ve shown someone those chats earlier.”
Imani thought.
“Maybe.”
Brooke looked surprised.
“That’s all?”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
Imani closed her laptop.
“You told her to stop sometimes.”
“Not enough.”
“No.”
Brooke nodded.
The answer hurt.
It was also fair.
“What should I have done?”
Imani considered.
“When you realized the joke only worked if everyone agreed something was wrong with how I talked?”
She looked at Brooke.
“Stop laughing.”