In history, a boy named Sutton—pale, tall, perpetual look of smelling something mildly unpleasant—said during group work, "Some people like to show off so their moms can threaten lawsuits."
Imani's group went quiet. Rohan said, "That's not what happened."
Sutton shrugged. "My brother heard from a senior that Ellery got reamed."
"Good," Lila said from the next group, not looking up from her timeline worksheet. "Maybe he'll write real problems."
Sutton flushed. "You don't get how this school works."
"I get that you're repeating gossip because you can't do the map key," Lila replied, and the teacher looked over, and the moment broke into ordinary scolding about volume.
After class Cole caught Imani by the lockers. "I told Sutton to shut up. He didn't. I'm sorry I'm bad at this."
"You don't have to be my bodyguard," Imani said. "Just don't laugh when they do that."
"I didn't laugh."
"I know. Thanks."
Cole shoved his hands in his pockets. "For what it's worth, I tried the problem at home the way you fixed it. My dad said the original was 'character building.' I said character building shouldn't require fake math. He went to his study. So. Progress? Or exile. Unclear."
Imani smiled despite herself. "Both can be true."
Rohan's contribution was quieter and more practical: he started saving screenshots of any group chat that turned ugly and sending them to Imani without commentary. Documentation as friendship. She added them to Rhea's folder. The folder grew. Growing folders were not the childhood anyone advertised in brochures.
At home Rhea reviewed the enrichment seminar description Ms. Yoruba Dane had sent. It looked genuinely interesting—number theory puzzles, history of mathematical error, a unit on how textbooks hide assumptions. Rhea circled optional three times in red.
"You may go because you want the math," Rhea said. "Not because you're being relocated for other people's comfort."
"I'll go," Imani said. "I want the math. And I want them to see I can take more without leaving my seat."
Rhea's eyes shone, brief and fierce. "That's my girl. And also: you are allowed to rest. You are not a symbol every hour."
Imani nodded. Being a symbol was exhausting. Being a person who sometimes became symbolic against her will was the actual job.
---
Two weeks after the board, Halberd held its autumn family night in the chapel-turned-assembly hall. Parents in good coats filled the pews. A string quartet of upper-school students played something polite. Dean Wexler spoke about community and excellence and the courage to grow. Imani sat beside Rhea in a side pew and watched Mr. Ellery across the aisle with a small cluster of math faculty. He caught her eye once and gave a nod so slight it could have been a trick of the light.