Imani frowned.
Dana continued.
“You talk one way to Tariq.”
“One way to your father.”
“One way to me when you want money.”
Imani smiled.
“That one is respectful.”
“It is manipulative.”
They laughed.
Dana became serious.
“Everybody changes rhythm depending on where they are.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Imani looked down.
“The thing that girl did was make you think adaptation means fraud.”
Dana touched her knee.
“It doesn’t.”
“What if people think I’m trying to sound white?”
“Then they have an embarrassingly small definition of what Black people sound like.”
That sentence stayed with Imani.
Leon’s response was less elegant.
“You sound like you.”
Imani stared.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“What if I sound different at school?”
“So?”
“What if—”
Leon looked up from repairing a kitchen drawer.
“Do you think white people sound the same talking to their boss and yelling at football?”
Imani laughed.
“No.”
“Then why are you giving Kendall Pryce ownership over your throat?”
Dana called from the hallway.
“That was surprisingly good.”
Leon looked offended.
“I say good things.”
“Rarely in complete sentences.”
Imani laughed harder.
The laughter helped.
For a while.
November passed without another direct incident.
Imani remained on announcements.
Kendall focused on video projects.
Avery avoided both girls.
The third member of Kendall’s friend group, Brooke Tanner, a brunette senior who worked mostly behind cameras, stayed neutral enough that Imani barely noticed her.
Then Eastborough hosted a district media showcase.
Schools displayed student podcasts, short documentaries, photography, and broadcasts inside the library.
Cole selected several announcement packages, including one Imani produced about bus-route changes affecting after-school activities.
The package contained interviews with students and transportation staff.
No awards.
No competition.
Just work.
After the showcase, Eastborough’s principal asked whether the school could repost Imani’s segment on the district website because families were confused about the new routes.
Imani agreed.
Kendall saw the repost.
That evening a new private group chat appeared.
Imani would not see it for another month.
Kendall wrote:
Of course they picked hers.
Brooke responded:
It explains the bus thing pretty well.
Kendall:
Not saying it’s bad.
Avery:
Then what are you saying?
Kendall:
They love her whole “perfectly articulate Black girl explains the community” thing.
Brooke sent:
That sounds bad when you type it out.
Kendall:
Because everyone is terrified of saying obvious things now.
Avery:
You literally already got written up.
Kendall:
Exactly.
The conversation moved on.
Three weeks later Kendall wrote:
She doesn’t even talk like that off mic.
Brooke:
We’ve established people talk different depending on context.
Kendall:
Not THAT different.
Avery sent a laughing emoji.
Kendall:
I’m telling you, whole personality switch.
Brooke stopped responding.
That was the first moment one of Kendall’s friends realized the joke had become fixation.
December brought winter break.
January brought college deadlines and exhausted seniors.