February became quieter.
The girls avoided each other.
Imani’s confidence slowly returned.
She started improvising once or twice a week.
Students stopped caring about the two-voices joke because high school attention spans moved quickly when nobody fed them.
By March, college decisions began arriving.
Imani was accepted to Virginia Commonwealth University, George Mason, and Howard University.
She had not decided where to go.
Eastborough did not post college acceptances publicly unless students submitted them.
Imani submitted nothing.
She wanted one decision not turned into school content.
Then a different opportunity appeared.
Local public-radio station WRVA Community FM partnered with Eastborough for a spring youth-media day. Students could tour the station, sit in on production meetings, and help produce a one-hour Saturday program about issues affecting teenagers in Richmond-area schools.
Cole nominated six students from media classes.
Kendall.
Brooke.
Avery.
Imani.
Two juniors.
Nobody complained about the list.
At the station, producers separated students into roles.
Kendall chose video social content.
Brooke chose editing.
Avery chose field production.
Imani chose audio interviews.
The station producer, Marta Ruiz, heard her test a microphone.
“You broadcast?”
“School announcements.”
“I can tell.”
Imani almost flinched at the compliment.
Marta noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
Imani smiled awkwardly.
“Long story.”
Marta did not ask.
That restraint made Imani like her immediately.
The youth program aired three weeks later.
Every participating student received credit.
Kendall’s social video performed better online than anything else the team produced.
Imani conducted two interviews and recorded transitions between segments.
It should have been a good day for everyone.
Instead Kendall watched Marta thank Imani after the broadcast and felt the old resentment return.
“You have a real instinct for pacing,” Marta said. “If you ever want to work in audio, keep doing it.”
Imani thanked her.
That was all.
On the ride back to Eastborough, Kendall sat beside Avery.
“She does that voice everywhere now.”
Avery looked toward the bus window.
“What voice?”
“You know.”
Avery did know.
She no longer wanted to participate.
“Kendall.”
“What?”
“You need to let this go.”
Kendall laughed.
“Everyone keeps telling me that because nobody wants to admit I’m right.”
“No.”
Avery finally looked at her.
“Everyone keeps telling you because it’s weird.”
Kendall became quiet.
Their friendship changed after that.
April brought Eastborough’s Spring Spirit Week.
Friday was school-color day.
Eastborough’s colors were burnt orange and black.
Student Council placed orange banners around campus and set up outdoor tables beneath the two-story breezeway connecting the academic building with the arts wing.
Athletic boosters provided coolers of orange sports drink for an afternoon pep event.
The liquid in those coolers would later become evidence.
At the time, nobody considered it important.
Spirit Week also meant morning announcements grew longer.
Imani had extra club reminders, game schedules, costume themes, parking changes, and a warning from custodians about glitter.
On Thursday afternoon, she stayed late preparing Friday’s script.
Brooke helped edit a video nearby.
Kendall entered to retrieve a camera battery.
She and Imani had not spoken directly in almost six weeks.
For several minutes, both ignored each other.
Then Kendall heard Imani rehearse.
“Tomorrow’s pep rally begins at one forty-five. Seniors will report to the gym after fourth block—”
Kendall laughed softly.
Imani stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Brooke looked up.
“Kendall.”
“I said nothing.”
Imani waited.
She could feel the old reflex returning.
Shoulders lower.