Marjorie took one more step forward. "Children who do not reside in the community do not have permission to operate outdoor equipment unsupervised."
"Outdoor equipment?"
"The hose."
The absurdity of it almost made Imani laugh, but the anger in Marjorie's face stopped her. Instead, she lowered the nozzle.
"I'll finish this side and go inside."
"No." Marjorie extended her hand. "Give it to me."
Imani instinctively pulled the hose closer. "No, ma'am."
That was the moment everything changed.
Marjorie's eyes widened with the theatrical offense of someone who had spent years mistaking obedience for respect. "Excuse me?"
"It's not yours," Imani said, her voice smaller now. "And my grandma told me to water these."
"I am the HOA president."
"That doesn't make it your hose."
The man with the golden retriever stopped walking. His dog sniffed the curb while he stared. Another curtain moved. A phone appeared behind a window across the street, its dark camera lens pointed toward Lorraine Patterson's yard.
Marjorie noticed the audience. That made her worse.
"Drop the hose," she said.
"No."
Marjorie reached out and grabbed the green rubber line.
Imani tightened both hands around the nozzle. "Please don't."
"Let go."
"Mrs. Vale, stop."
"You do not tell me to stop on my own street."
She yanked hard.
Imani stumbled forward, one Croc slipping in the wet grass. The nozzle jerked upward between them, water spraying wild across the hydrangeas, the walkway, and the hem of Marjorie's white slacks. Marjorie gasped as if she had been attacked. Then her face twisted into pure fury.
"You little brat."
She tore the nozzle from Imani's hands.
For half a second, Imani simply stood there, palms open, shocked. The hose writhed between them like something alive, water spilling over the grass. Marjorie gripped the brass nozzle, turned it to jet, and pointed it directly at Imani's chest.
"Maybe you need to learn what happens when you don't listen."
Then she squeezed.
The blast hit Imani so hard she staggered backward. Cold water slammed into her shirt, her face, her braids, driving the breath out of her. She raised her arms, trying to shield her eyes, but Marjorie followed her with the stream, sweeping it across her body like she was washing mud off a sidewalk. Water soaked Imani's yellow shirt until it clung to her skin. It ran down her legs into her pink Crocs. It filled her nose and mouth when she tried to gasp.
"Stop!" Imani screamed. "Please stop!"
Marjorie did not stop.
She stepped closer, both hands on the nozzle, her voice rising so the neighbors could hear. "This is what happens when people think rules don't apply to them. This is what happens when children are raised with no respect."
Imani slipped on the wet grass and fell onto one knee. The jet struck her shoulder, then her cheek. She sobbed, choking on water and humiliation. Scout barked frantically from the porch, scratching at the steps, too small and old to do anything except make noise.
The man with the golden retriever finally said, "Marjorie, that's enough."
She snapped her head toward him. "Stay out of this, Paul. You don't know the situation."
But Paul did know what he had just seen. Everyone did.