“I’m trying to get to class.”
He lifted the bucket.
Nia’s expression changed.
“Put that down.”
Several phones appeared.
Blake looked around at the audience.
That was all the encouragement he needed.
“You wanted to be the school poster girl,” he said. “Let’s fix the colors.”
Nia immediately understood what was coming.
“Blake.”
The bucket went up.
“Don’t.”
He poured.
Blue paint crashed over Nia’s hair and face.
The first wave covered her curls and forehead. More ran across her white shirt and soaked into the mustard cardigan.
Nia gasped.
One crutch slipped.
She caught herself before falling.
Students shouted.
Some laughed from shock.
Others stared.
Blake held the empty bucket upside down for another second as though performing a trick.
Nia closed her eyes while paint ran down her face.
When she opened them again, Blake was smiling.
“You done?” she asked.
He looked toward the phones.
“Depends.”
Nia shook her head.
“You’re eighteen years old.”
“That’s your comeback?”
“No.”
She adjusted one crutch.
“My comeback is the disciplinary file you just added another page to.”
A few students laughed.
Blake’s smile faded.
One friend handed him a red plastic cup filled with diluted purple paint used on another banner.
Trent immediately said, “Dude, stop.”
Blake did not.
He stepped closer and swept the cup across Nia’s cardigan.
Purple liquid splashed down the front of her body.
This time almost nobody laughed.
Nia stared at him.
“What is wrong with you?”
Blake dropped the cup.
“Relax.”
“No.”
“It washes out.”
Nia looked at her crutches.
“Does that make it okay?”