Kendra heard about both.

She told Mr. Dean she wanted it stopped.

He looked surprised.

“Not because I feel sorry for her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If people think humiliating somebody is wrong, then it doesn’t become funny because the target changes.”

Dean nodded.

The retaliation jokes stopped after teachers addressed them.

Sadie learned Kendra had objected.

She did not thank her.

Kendra did not expect her to.

Three weeks before graduation, Sadie requested mediation.

Kendra refused.

Counselor Rachel Whitman told her participation was voluntary.

For almost a week, Kendra remained comfortable with the decision.

Then one question began bothering her.

Why had Sadie needed her to react?

Kendra understood the obvious parts.

Jealousy.

Consequences.

Embarrassment.

But the phrase There’s the attitude had appeared before nearly every escalation.

It sounded less like an observation than a goal.

Kendra agreed to one meeting.

Sadie arrived wearing jeans and a plain navy sweatshirt.

No Student Council pin.

No olive jacket.

Her red hair was tied back.

Without the familiar symbols, she looked younger.

Seventeen.

That did not erase anything.

It made the entire situation feel like an enormous waste.

Sadie began with an apology.

Kendra stopped her.

“I want an answer first.”

Sadie nodded.

“Why did you need me to have an attitude?”

Sadie looked confused.

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

Kendra listed the examples.

Hair.

Meetings.

Money.

Newspaper.

Car wash.

Every boundary became tone.

Every disagreement became intensity.

Every consequence became proof Kendra was dangerous.

Sadie looked down.

Kendra waited.

“I thought you were angry a lot.”

“Based on what?”

“You always challenged things.”

“So did Lucas.”

“I know.”

“You called him opinionated.”

Sadie said nothing.

“Emily argues with you constantly.”

Silence.

“You call her stubborn.”

Sadie’s eyes filled.

Kendra asked again.

“Why was mine attitude?”

The answer took almost a minute.

“Because I already expected it.”

Kendra stared.

“Expected what?”

Sadie rubbed her hands together.

“That Black girls were more confrontational.”

There it was.

Not a dramatic confession of hatred.

A stereotype that had entered before evidence.

Sadie explained awkwardly.

Movies.

Social media.

Arguments she watched adults have online.

Comments relatives made without treating them as serious beliefs.

She had never sat down and consciously decided Black girls were angry.

The expectation simply existed.

Then Kendra entered leadership meetings and disagreed confidently.

Sadie interpreted normal behavior through a preexisting story.

“When I wasn’t angry?”