Zariah shrugged.
“Probably.”
“But?”
“But I still shouldn’t have kicked her when I could’ve walked away.”
Her brother stared.
“That’s annoying.”
“Life is hard.”
The viral attention created another problem.
Students who had barely spoken to Zariah suddenly treated her like someone dangerous.
Boys made fake boxing gestures when she passed.
A sophomore jokingly stepped away from her in the cafeteria and said, “I’m not getting kicked.”
Zariah stopped.
“Did I do something to you?”
He froze.
“No.”
“Then why would I kick you?”
The joke died.
She hated that Tessa had spent months trying to turn her into an angry girl, only for one thirty-second fight to finish the job in strangers’ minds.
Monique understood.
“You are not the worst choice you made in one classroom.”
Zariah looked at her.
“Neither is Tessa.”
Monique seemed surprised.
Zariah continued.
“She did awful things.”
“But if I don’t want people reducing me to that kick, I can’t reduce her to the floor.”
Monique smiled slightly.
“That sounds suspiciously mature.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Tessa returned to school after suspension without the social reception she expected.
Some students ignored her.
Others mocked her for losing the fight.
One boy made a falling motion when she entered government class.
Zariah saw it.
“Stop.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“Tessa got punished.”
“Leave her alone.”
The boy laughed.
“She bullied you.”
“I know.”
“So?”
Zariah stared.
“So bullying somebody who bullied me still makes you a bully.”
The room went quiet.
Tessa heard everything.
She did not thank Zariah.
Zariah did not need her to.
Two weeks later, Tessa requested a mediated conversation through the school counselor.
Zariah said no.
Then changed her mind.
She wanted one question answered.
They met after school with counselor Mrs. Patel sitting near the door.
Tessa wore jeans and an oversized sweatshirt.
No neon colors.
No audience.
No friends.
She looked seventeen.
That was strangely important.
“I’m sorry,” Tessa began.
Zariah waited.
“For tripping you.”
“And everything before.”
Zariah raised an eyebrow.
“Everything?”
Tessa swallowed.
“The chair.”
“The notebook.”
“The locker photo.”
Zariah stared.
“You marked my dad’s jacket?”
Tessa immediately shook her head.
“No.”