“Maya!” Jake appeared beside her, his shirt torn and his lips split. “We need to get out of here!”
“No!” Maya shouted back over the noise. “We can’t run now!”
But even as she said it, Maya could see they were losing control. This wasn’t the disciplined resistance she’d planned; it was a brawl that was getting more dangerous by the minute.
Derrick emerged from the crowd again, water streaming down his face, his eyes wild with something between fury and panic. “Look what you’ve done!” he screamed at Maya. “You’ve destroyed everything!”
“I’ve exposed everything!” Maya screamed back.
Around them, the riot continued to spread. More windows broke, lockers were torn open, and the sprinkler system was flooding the entire first floor. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, growing louder. Maya looked around at the chaos she’d helped create: students fighting, bleeding, screaming, water everywhere, glass crunching underfoot. This wasn’t justice. This wasn’t victory. This was exactly what Derrick’s father needed to justify whatever he had planned. But it was too late to stop now. The war had escalated beyond anyone’s control, and the real battle was about to begin.
The sirens were getting closer. The riot was dying down as exhaustion set in, but Maya and Derrick found themselves alone in the center of the flooded hallway. Other students had either fled or collapsed against the walls, watching through the sprinkler rain as the two leaders faced each other.
“You and me,” Derrick panted, wiping blood from his mouth. “No friends, no backup. Just us.”
Maya circled him slowly, her sneakers splashing in the ankle-deep water. “Fine by me.”
They’d been building to this moment for weeks. All the harassment, the humiliation, the violence had led to this final confrontation. Around them, the broken glass and overturned lockers created an arena of destruction.
Derrick threw the first punch, a wild haymaker that Maya ducked easily. His boxing lessons hadn’t prepared him for fighting in water while exhausted from a riot. Maya countered with a sharp jab to his ribs, then followed with a knee strike that caught him in the stomach. Derrick doubled over, gasping.
“Had enough?” Maya asked.
“Just getting started,” Derrick wheezed, then lunged forward, tackling Maya around the waist.
They went down hard into the flooded hallway, Derrick’s weight pinning Maya beneath the water. She struggled against his grip, feeling panic as water filled her nose and mouth. Maya drove her elbow into Derrick’s kidney, forcing him to release her. She rolled away and came up coughing, water streaming from her hair.
“You think you’re so tough?” Derrick was back on his feet, his face twisted with rage. “You think you can just come to my school and change everything?”
“It’s not your school,” Maya shot back. “It’s not your kingdom. You’re just another bully who’s about to get what’s coming to him.”
Derrick charged again, but this time, Maya was ready. She sidestepped and used his momentum against him, sending him crashing into the lockers. The impact echoed through the hallway.
Meanwhile, outside the school, police cars surrounded the building. Officers in riot gear prepared to enter, but they weren’t the only ones arriving. News vans pulled up as reporters caught wind of the massive fight at Westfield High. Parents were speeding toward the school after receiving emergency calls. And among them, Robert Mitchell sat in his Mercedes, a satisfied smile on his face as he spoke into his phone.
“Yes, it’s exactly what we discussed,” he told the voice on the other end. “Gang violence, property damage, complete breakdown of order. Maya Johnson has turned a peaceful school into a war zone.”
But Robert wasn’t the only parent making calls. Lisa Johnson was racing toward the school, her hands shaking as she dialed her husband’s number. “Marcus, something’s happened at Maya’s school. There’s been a fight, a big one. The police are there.”
“I’m on my way,” came Marcus’s voice through the speaker.
Back inside, Maya and Derrick continued their brutal fight. Derrick had landed several good hits, and Maya’s left eye was swelling shut. But Derrick wasn’t faring much better; his nose was clearly broken, and he was favoring his right side where Maya had repeatedly targeted his ribs.
“You destroyed everything!” Derrick screamed, throwing another wild punch. “This school was perfect before you came here!”
Maya blocked the punch and drove her fist into Derrick’s solar plexus. “Perfect for who? Perfect for you and your friends while everyone else suffered?”
Derrick staggered backward, his breathing labored. “My family built this place. We made it what it is.”
“You made it a nightmare,” Maya said, advancing on him. “For kids like Jake, like Emma, like Ben. You made their lives hell because you could.”
“Because they deserved it!” Derrick’s voice cracked with desperation. “Because that’s how the world works. Some people matter, and some people don’t.”
Maya’s next punch caught Derrick square in the jaw, the same spot where she’d first hit him weeks ago. This time, Derrick stayed down, blood pooling beneath his face in the water.
The sound of heavy boots echoed from the school entrance. The police had arrived.
“Everyone on the ground! Hands behind your heads!”
The commands boomed through the hallways as officers in riot gear flooded the building. Maya looked down at Derrick’s unconscious form, then at the destruction around her. Broken glass, flooded floors, scattered belongings, students pressed against walls with fear in their eyes. She’d won the fight, but at what cost?
“Maya Johnson!” An officer’s voice cut through the chaos. “Step away from the victim and get on the ground now!”
As Maya slowly raised her hands, she saw something that made her heart sink. Derrick’s father was walking behind the police officers, pointing directly at her.
“That’s her,” Robert Mitchell said to the lead officer. “That’s the gang leader who organized all this violence.”
Maya realized she’d played right into their trap. The riot, the destruction, Derrick unconscious on the ground—it all painted her as the aggressor, the violent criminal who terrorized a peaceful school. But as the handcuffs clicked around her wrists, Maya heard something that gave her hope. Student voices, dozens of them, all saying the same thing.
“She was defending herself.”
“Derrick started it.”
“He’s been bullying people for years.”
The truth was finally coming out, even as Maya was being arrested. The question was whether anyone in authority would listen.
The handcuffs bit into Maya’s wrists as officers led her through the flooded hallway of Westfield High. Around her, the aftermath of the riot was evident. Broken glass crunched underfoot, water dripped from damaged ceiling tiles, and students pressed against classroom doors watched her perp walk with expressions ranging from shock to admiration.
“Maya! Maya, don’t say anything!” The voice cut through the chaos. Her father, Marcus Johnson, was pushing through the crowd of police officers and paramedics. “Don’t answer any questions without a lawyer.”
“Sir, step back,” an officer commanded….
