Nia Washington transferred to Riverside High halfway into the year, one of the only black faces in a sea of privileged white students. When she dared to attend prom with quiet Jamal Thompson, the school's other black student, Tyler Mitchell and his crew saw the perfect opportunity to remind these outsiders of their place. They humiliated Nia. And when that wasn't enough, they targeted Jamal, thinking they were untouchable.

But the bullies didn't know that Nia had been training since she was 12, or that beneath her quiet exterior lay the disciplined fury of someone who'd never backed down from a fight. The bullies would soon discover that some people don't just get mad, they get even. Nia Washington had thrown her last punch at Rodriguez's Boxing Gym in Detroit three days earlier, her gloves connecting with the heavy bag in a rhythm that had become as natural as breathing. She had been 12 when she first walked into that gym; now, at 17, she carried that same steady confidence through the pristine hallways of Riverside High. The suburban school felt like stepping into a magazine spread. Polished marble floors, trophy cases gleaming under fluorescent lights, and students who looked like they'd stepped out of a catalog.

Everything was so clean, so perfect, so different from the Detroit public school she'd left behind when her mom got the job transfer. The school year was already more than half over when she transferred. Nia checked her phone for her locker combination, hyper aware of being the only black face in a sea of white students. The stares followed her like spotlights, conversations dropping to whispers as she passed.

The shouting started before she'd even found her locker. "Come on, Thompson, fight back," someone yelled from around the corner. Nia quickened her pace and turned to see a crowd of students forming a circle near the lockers, their phones already out, recording whatever was happening in the center. Through the gaps between bodies, she caught sight of a lanky black boy with glasses pressed against the lockers by three white boys.

Her heart jumped. Another black student. She wasn't alone here after all. But seeing him like this, cornered and outnumbered, made her stomach turn.

"Maybe if you spent less time with your nose in books and remembered your place here, you'd know when to stay quiet." One of the attackers sneered. A stocky redhead with dead eyes. The crowd laughed, and some pulled out their phones to record. "Please, just leave me alone," the boy said quietly, his voice shaking.

"What's that? Speak up." A tall blond boy in a letterman jacket grabbed Jamal's shirt. "We can't understand you when you mumble."

Books scattered across the floor as they shoved him harder. Pages tore under expensive sneakers. And Nia saw the title of one, advanced calculus. This kid was smart, probably smarter than all of them combined, and they were treating him like garbage.

"Hey." She pushed through the circle of students, phones swiveling toward her like weapons. "Back off him!" The three boys turned and their faces lit up with cruel delight. "Oh, look at this," the blonde one said, straightening up.

"Two for one special today. I'm Tyler Mitchell, and you just made my day so much better." The redhead clapped his hands together. "Christmas came early, boys. Fresh meat."

The third boy, shorter but built like a wrestler, looked at Jamal with fake sweetness. "Look, Jamal. They sent you a girlfriend. How romantic."

"Shut up, Brad," Tyler said, never taking his eyes off Nia. "This requires finesse." Nia stepped between them and Jamal, her hands clenched at her sides.

"I said, back off." "Or what?" Tyler circled around her slowly, like a predator.

"You going to file a complaint? This is Riverside High, sweetheart. We don't take complaints from your kind."

"My kind?"

Nia's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You know exactly what I mean." Tyler's mask slipped for just a moment, showing the ugly truth underneath. You people always think you can just waltz in here and change things, but this is our school, our territory.

The redhead, who someone in the crowd called Connor, nodded eagerly. "Been in our families for generations." The crowd pressed closer, sensing blood in the water. Nia felt their eyes on her, waiting to see if she'd break, if she'd run, if she'd give them the show they wanted.

But she'd been training for this her whole life, even if she hadn't known it. "Your territory?" Nia's stance shifted. weight balanced on the balls of her feet. "Funny. I thought this was a public school, paid for by everyone's taxes."

Brad stepped closer, his wrestler's build intimidating. Public doesn't mean it belongs to people like you. The word hit the air like a slap. Even some of the white students looked uncomfortable now, but nobody moved to stop it.

Nia felt the familiar calm that came before a fight. The way her vision sharpened and her breathing steadied. She'd felt it in the ring dozens of times, but never like this. Never when it mattered this much.

"Say that again," she said quietly. Tyler held up his hands, suddenly switching tactics. "Whoa, easy there. Brad here gets a little excited sometimes. We were just welcoming you to Riverside, right, guys?"

Connor and Brad looked confused by the sudden shift but followed Tyler's lead, stepping back slightly. "Just a little harmless fun," Tyler continued, his voice now reasonable, almost apologetic. "No harm done. Come on, guys. Let's give our new students some space."

As they walked away, Tyler looked back over his shoulder. "See you around, Jamal. Both of you. This is going to be a very interesting year."

The crowd dispersed, and suddenly Nia and Jamal were alone in the hallway, surrounded by scattered books and torn pages. "You okay?" Nia asked, kneeling to help gather his things.

"Another Black student?" Jamal said, his voice filled with wonder and relief. "I can't believe it. I thought I was going to graduate as the only one."

"Well, you're not alone anymore." The next morning, Nia found Jamal at his locker before first period, carefully organizing his books like they were precious artifacts. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his movements were more cautious than yesterday. Rough night? She asked, leaning against the locker next to his.

"Couldn't sleep. I keep thinking about what Tyler said." Jamal glanced around nervously about this being an interesting year. Don't let him get in your head.

That's what bullies do. They make you scared of shadows. "Easy for you to say. You haven't been dealing with this for three years."

Jamal's voice cracked slightly. Every day I wake up wondering what they'll do next. Put gum in my hair. Trip me in the cafeteria.

Lock me in the supply closet. Yesterday was actually mild compared to some days. Nia felt anger building in her chest and nobody stops them. The teachers act like they don't see it.

Principal Harris says boys will be boys. My parents think I should just focus on my grades and ignore everything else. Jamal slammed his locker shut. Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier if I just transferred.

Don't you dare. You belong here as much as anyone else. Before Jamal could respond, Connor appeared beside them, his red hair catching the fluorescent light. "Well, well, look who's becoming best friends already." Tyler and Brad flanked him on either side, forming a wall that blocked the hallway traffic.