Brittany wasn’t stupid. Of course she fought back. When she shoved at me, she even lifted a hand to yank my hair—except I’d had it tied up since I’d been in the hospital and hadn’t washed it for days, so she didn’t get a grip.

But in a fight, who gets out unhurt? Her long acrylic nails raked across my cheek. A sharp sting flared, and I was pretty sure I’d been scratched up.

After that, I went all in.

Me and her? We didn’t need any ...