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around on the floor and all I could think was, Am I really fighting in my four-inch Manolo Blahniks?
    â€œHave you two lost your mind?” Mr. Carvin, the school principal, said, racing to break us up. He grabbed Shay by the arm and the softball coach grabbed me.
    â€œI’m gonna kill her!” Shay yelled.
    â€œIn your dreams!”
    â€œStop this fighting, now!” Mr. Carvin shouted as both of us tried to break free.
    It took a minute, but we both stopped squirming enough for them to let us go.
    â€œWhat in the world is your problem? I thought you two were friends,” Mr. Carvin yelled.
    â€œWere as in past tense,” I said, checking my clothes to make sure that my Juicy Couture jumpsuit hadn’t been messed up.
    â€œI was never her friend,” Shay snapped, trying to catch her breath. “We just had a show together.”
    â€œWhatever. You’d just better get your dad to get his credit card ready,” I said, pulling out my rhinestone-studded iPhone. “Got me up here fighting like some thug,” I huffed. “I don’t think so! I’m suing you, your mama, your daddy, the whole Miami Heat,” I said as I punched in the code to unlock my phone.
    Mr. Carvin exhaled in frustration. “Miss Morgan, put that phone away and get in my office right now.” I ignored him and kept punching. He actually stepped in front of me and snatched the phone out of my hand.
    â€œHey, I’m entitled to one phone call,” I said.
    â€œThis isn’t jail,” he said, scuttling us into his office.
    I cut my eyes at Sheridan, who stood off to the side, watching everything. I was stunned that she hadn’t tried to jump in and help me. No matter how many fights we’d had in the past, at the end of the day, she always had my back. Truthfully, I knew Sheridan wasn’t a fighter either, but she knew Shay was crazy and she hadn’t lifted a finger. She rolled her eyes at me and walked off. Oh, I would definitely never forget that.
    Inside Mr. Carvin’s office, I immediately began protesting. “Why am I in trouble? She started it by grabbing my hair.”
    â€œI didn’t grab your hair,” Shay said innocently as she plopped down in the chair in front of his desk. “When you walked off, it got caught in my bracelet.” She held her arm and shook her dangling bracelets.
    â€œYou are such a liar,” I yelled.
    â€œBoth of you be quiet! Sit down, Miss Morgan!”
    â€œShe started it!” I said, sitting down in the seat next to her. “I didn’t do—”
    â€œI don’t care who started it,” Mr. Carvin said, interrupting me as he walked behind his desk. “There is no fighting in this school and you know that this is absolutely unacceptable. You two are seniors. I would expect more from you.” He pulled out a notepad. “As you know, we have a zero tolerance for fighting—”
    â€œBut—” I said.
    â€œBut nothing.” He scribbled on the notepad, then handed it to me and Shay. “You both are suspended for three days.”
    â€œYou can’t do this,” Shay said, knocking over the chair as she stood.
    Mr. Carvin frowned in her direction. “Miss Turner, try me if you want to. I’ll change that suspension to the rest of the year and you’ll find yourself repeating the twelfth grade.”
    She rolled her eyes as she took her suspension notice. “Can I go now?” she said, glaring at him.
    He nodded. “You need to leave campus immediately,” he called out as she stomped toward the door.
    She stopped and spun around. “Bu-But, I have a dance competition today and we leave right after school.”
    â€œYou won’t be taking part in anything related to Miami High for the next three days,” he replied with a firm tone. “Good day, Miss Turner.”
    Shay glanced over at me. “You are so going to regret this,” she