Lily screenshotted the conversation.
She did not send it to Nia.
Not yet.
The following Thursday was warm enough that students crowded the courtyard during lunch. Nia had a fifth-period photography critique and carried her skateboard because she planned to go directly from class to work afterward. She wore the black leather jacket, white crop top, black jeans, and black shoes she had worn dozens of times before.
Avery wore pink.
Lily noticed that because Avery had told the group chat to “watch the courtyard.”
Lily immediately understood.
She opened her camera.
But instead of filming vertically for Avery’s account, she started recording continuously from the moment Avery began following Nia.
Nia pushed once with her right foot and let the board roll across the brick path.
She did not see Avery behind her.
Avery increased her pace.
Two friends followed several yards back.
The first shove came without warning.
Avery’s hand struck the top of Nia’s shoulder from behind.
Hard.
Nia’s weight shifted off center.
The skateboard shot forward.
Her right foot hit the bricks.
Then her left.
She tried to catch herself.
Could not.
Nia went down hard onto both palms and one knee.
The board flipped once and slid toward the edge of the walkway.
Laughter came from behind her.
Avery stopped several feet away.
Hands on hips.
Smiling.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Nia looked up.
She saw Lily’s phone.
Another phone.
Another.
She understood.
“Are you serious?”
Avery shrugged.
“You fell.”
“You pushed me.”
“You can’t take a joke.”
Nia slowly stood.
Her palms were red.
One knee had torn through the denim slightly.
She ignored it.
“You followed me to push me off my board for a video?”
Avery smiled.
“Maybe you’re not as good as everybody thinks.”
Nia picked up the skateboard.
Several students gathered around.
Nobody laughed now.
Nia stepped toward Avery.
“Delete it.”
Avery shook her head.
“No.”
“Delete the video.”
“You don’t control my phone.”
Nia exhaled.
That sentence again.
Control.
Ownership.
Permission.
Everything Avery believed flowed in one direction.
“You have spent months doing this.”
Avery rolled her eyes.
“Doing what?”
“Trying to make me angry.”
“You do that by yourself.”
Nia stared.
Avery continued.
“Look at you.”
“There’s the famous attitude.”
Nia’s jaw tightened.
She could hear Samantha’s old warning in her head.
She wants you to become the person she already edited.
Nia lowered her voice.
“You shoved me onto concrete.”
Avery moved closer.
“And?”
“Walk away.”
Avery laughed.
“You walk away.”
Nia stepped sideways.
Avery mirrored her.
Several students murmured.
Nia tried the other direction.
Avery moved again.
“You wanted a reaction?”
Nia asked.
Avery smiled.
“You finally going to give me one?”
Nia looked at the phones.
Then at Avery.
“No.”
She started past her.
Avery turned with her.
Words followed.
Months of resentment suddenly spilling into one conversation.
Avery accused Nia of ruining her account, stealing the school media position, getting students detention, and making everybody treat her like a bully.
Nia stopped.
“You did that.”
Avery stared.
Nia continued.
“I didn’t post Samantha.”
“I didn’t hide my skateboard.”
“I didn’t shove myself.”
“You keep doing things, then getting mad that somebody remembers.”
Avery’s face reddened.
“You think you’re so much better.”
“No.”
“I think you need me to be worse.”
Avery laughed sharply.
“Trust me, nobody needs help thinking that.”
Something in Nia finally broke.
Not control.
Patience.
Avery stepped closer again, still talking, still smiling toward the phones.
Nia lifted one foot and drove a controlled front push into Avery’s midsection to force several feet of distance.
Avery folded forward in shock.
The crowd reacted instantly.
Nia lowered her leg.
“Stay away from me.”
For half a second, that could have ended everything.
It did not.
Avery came forward.
Fast.
The first punch was wide.
Nia slipped sideways.
Another came immediately.
Nia raised an arm and blocked it.
“Avery, stop.”
Avery swung again.
Nia ducked.
People shouted.
Phones remained raised.
Avery lunged with both hands.
Nia shoved her shoulders away.
Avery recovered and came back.
This time one strike clipped Nia’s jacket near the collarbone.
Nia’s training was limited but useful.
Her father had enrolled her in boxing lessons during middle school after she became interested in fitness, and Darnell sometimes let her use the heavy bag at the skate shop’s neighboring gym.
She remembered distance.
Balance.
Do not chase.
Avery swung.
Nia moved outside the punch.
Then delivered one short defensive strike to the body and pushed Avery away.
Avery stumbled.
Tried to rush again.
Nia sidestepped and redirected her momentum.
Avery nearly fell.
She caught herself.