The first strike barely grazed Jordan’s shoulder.
Jordan backed away.
“Stop!”
Brooke came again.
Jordan lifted both forearms.
The second swing landed against them.
Jordan continued moving backward.
She had spent two years taking recreational kickboxing classes at a community gym before transferring to Crescent Valley. She never competed. She did not consider herself a fighter.
What she remembered now was her instructor’s first rule.
Stay balanced.
Create distance.
Leave when leaving is possible.
Jordan tried.
Brooke followed.
Another shove.
Another swing.
Jordan stepped aside.
Brooke rushed again.
This time Jordan caught the forward movement, brought one knee upward against Brooke’s thigh and midsection just enough to stop her momentum, then redirected her with her shoulder.
Brooke lost balance.
She landed among discarded paper cups and napkins.
Students gasped.
Jordan backed away immediately.
“Stay down.”
Savannah screamed something.
Jordan turned.
The lavender sweatshirt was already coming toward her.
Savannah swung.
Jordan leaned away.
The punch missed.
Savannah came again.
Jordan blocked with one forearm.
“Stop!”
Savannah shoved into her.
Jordan caught both arms.
Held them for a second.
Then pushed Savannah backward.
Savannah stumbled.
A paper bag crushed beneath one sneaker.
Instead of stopping, she rushed forward again.
Jordan pivoted.
Caught Savannah high near the arm and shoulder.
Redirected her.
Savannah lost footing and hit the ground beside Brooke.
Everything stopped.
Jordan stayed standing.
Trash still clung to her jacket.
Her braids had partly loosened.
Both hands shook so badly she closed them into fists, then immediately opened them because she did not want anyone mistaking the movement.
She did not approach either woman.
Did not kick.
Did not hit them again.
She only looked down at the garbage surrounding all three of them.
“Was that worth it?”
Campus Safety arrived less than two minutes later.
By then, more than forty students had gathered.
Madison—Savannah—immediately said Jordan attacked them.
The crowd erupted.
“No she didn’t!”
“They dumped the trash first!”
“She tried to leave!”
“Brooke swung first!”
Sergeant Melissa Carter raised her voice.
“Everybody stop.”
The crowd gradually quieted.
Melissa turned toward Jordan.
“Are you injured?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did you strike either woman?”
Jordan took a breath.
“I defended myself.”
“That is not exactly what I asked.”
Jordan appreciated that.
“Yes.”