“You needed to cool down,” Brielle said. Nadia stared at her.
“You did this?” Brielle shrugged.
“It’s water.”
Nadia stepped fully into the classroom. “You were ordered to stay away from me.”
Brielle stood. “I’m sitting in my classroom.”
“You rigged something over the door.”
“It’s a prank.”
Nadia pointed toward Kelsey’s phone. “And she’s recording it.”
Kelsey lowered the phone slightly. “Everybody records senior pranks.”
Nadia wiped water from her face. “You planned this specifically for me.”
Brielle laughed. “You always think everything is about you.”
Several students reacted to the absurdity. Nadia looked toward the bucket on the floor, then back at Brielle.
“You called it a diversity baptism in your messages.” Brielle’s expression changed.
She did not know how Nadia knew that. In reality, Nadia did not know the exact phrase yet; she was guessing based on patterns, and Brielle’s face told her the guess was close enough. Kelsey stopped smiling.
Brielle stepped toward Nadia. “You’ve been stalking our messages now?”
“No.” Nadia remained still.
“You just keep repeating yourself.”
Brielle moved closer. “You think because everyone’s scared of you, you can say whatever you want.”
Nadia laughed once. “Scared of me?”
“You threaten people with racism every time you don’t like something.”
“I reported things you actually said.”
“You twist everything.”
Nadia looked around the classroom. “I walked through a door and you dumped water on me.”
Nobody laughed now.
Brielle glanced toward the students watching. That shift mattered. She had designed the prank around an audience.
Instead, the audience had become witnesses. Her smile disappeared.