The auditorium was packed. Every student, every teacher, every staff member was there. The rumor mill had been working overtime. The Zombie vs. The Queen Bee.
Arleen stood on the stage. A single microphone stand was in front of her.
Behind her, a large projection screen was dark.
At a long table to the left sat the "Judges": Principal Sterling, Mrs. Vaughn, and the Vice Principal.
Mrs. Vaughn stood up first. She held a remote.
"We are here to address a vicious, unprovoked attack," she announced. "The evidence speaks for itself."
She clicked the remote.
A video played on the big screen. It was a cell phone clip, zoomed in. It showed only the moment Arleen hit Bryce with the tray. It looked brutal. It looked like murder.
The crowd booed. "Psycho!" "Kick her out!"
Mrs. Vaughn smiled smugly. "I call my witness. Shen Wenyu."
Shen Wenyu walked onto the stage. He was handsome, weak-chinned, and sweating.
He took the mic. He wouldn't look at Arleen.
"Wenyu," Mrs. Vaughn said sweetly. "As the student body president, and as someone... close to the accused... what is your opinion?"
Shen Wenyu swallowed hard. He looked at the crowd. He looked at Mrs. Vaughn. He chose the path of least resistance.
"The Shen family... we don't condone violence," he stammered. "Arleen has been... unstable since the accident. I think... for the safety of the school... she should be removed."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall.
Arleen watched him. She felt a twinge in her chest-not love, but the echo of the old Arleen's heartbreak. It was pathetic.
She stepped up to her mic.
"Are you done?" she asked. Her voice boomed over the speakers.
The crowd quieted.
"You showed the punchline," Arleen said. "But you forgot the joke."
She pulled a USB drive from her pocket. She walked over to the AV console on the side of the stage. The AV kid tried to stop her, but one look from her sent him scrambling back. She had spent thirty minutes in the school library after the meeting, using a public terminal to pull the audio from her phone, splice it with the footage from the school's security server she'd breached, and load it all onto a cheap flash drive she'd found in a lost-and-found box.
She plugged it in.
"Let's watch the full tape."
The screen flickered.
A new video started. It was the wide-angle security feed.
It showed everything.
Bryce and Kaycee approaching.
The intentional trip.
The pasta flying.
The racial slurs Bryce shouted (audio enhanced).
Bryce throwing the first tray.
Bryce throwing the first punch.
The crowd gasped.
The narrative shifted in seconds. It wasn't an attack; it was a beatdown of a bully.
Then, the audio recording from the office played over the speakers. Mrs. Vaughn's voice, shrill and clear: "...pulls its funding... ensure the board reviews your contract..."
Mrs. Vaughn stood up, knocking her chair over. "Turn it off! That's fake! It's AI!"
But the damage was done. Students were laughing. Some were filming Mrs. Vaughn's meltdown.
Arleen walked back to center stage.
"Self-defense," she said. "Case closed."
Hale Clemons was sitting in the front row. He wasn't laughing this time. He was watching Arleen with an intensity that was almost hungry.
He saw the way she controlled the room. He saw the cold logic.
She's not just a fighter, he thought. She's a strategist.
Principal Sterling stood up, trying to salvage the situation. "Well... clearly there are mitigating circumstances..."
Mrs. Vaughn stormed off the stage, her heels clicking like angry gunshots.
Arleen looked at Shen Wenyu. He was still standing there, looking like a deer in headlights.
She turned to him. The mic was still live.
"Now," she said. "About us."
