Done almost anything else.
Instead, eight months arrived at once.
Diversity winner.
Quota scholarship.
Representation.
Free ride.
Her mother’s job.
The anonymous account.
The locker paper.
The whispers.
The repeated instruction to stay calm enough that nobody could accuse her of being angry.
Jada set the tray slightly aside.
Then she snapped.
Her right foot came up in a sharp front push that caught Scarlett around the midsection. Scarlett staggered backward into the serving area, one nearby tray slipped from the counter, and food crashed onto the tile. Students shouted.
Jada lowered her foot.
Her face changed almost immediately.
She knew she had made a mistake.
Scarlett knew it too.
For a split second, satisfaction crossed her face.
She had finally gotten what she wanted.
Then anger replaced it.
Scarlett rushed forward.
The first punch missed because Jada moved sideways.
The second caught the shoulder of her leather jacket.
Students scattered away.
“Stop!”
Jada was no longer sure whether the voice belonged to her or someone watching.
Scarlett grabbed toward her.
Jada pulled away.
Another swing came.
Jada ducked.
Scarlett kicked.
Jada shifted outside it.
Only then did Jada begin answering.
One short strike.
A shove.
Distance.
Scarlett came forward again.
Jada moved backward through the open cafeteria floor.
The entire room seemed to be watching.
Scarlett threw another wide punch.
Jada blocked it.
Then countered.
Scarlett stumbled.
She returned.
The final exchange happened near a row of tables.
Scarlett lunged.
Jada stepped aside, caught the movement, and drove one stronger push that sent Scarlett off balance.
She fell onto her back.
Jada stood several feet away.
Scarlett remained down.
Jada stopped.
No follow-up.