“I’m not interested in new ideas. I’m not interested in a compromise. I’m interested in starting this henna business and beating Chyna and Flávia for stealing from me, from us.”
Jess parts her lips, probably to say something else that’ll make me see red, but I’m already turning around and heading out the door.
The last thing I hear is Jess telling Chaewon how unbelievably ridiculous I’m being. I don’t stop to hear if Chaewon will defend me. I already know she won’t.
I’m probably paranoid, but I feel like everybody in the school knows about my disagreement with Jess and Chaewon. Like everybody’s staring at me, judging. It’s not like I’m the most popular kid in school—far from it. But now I’ve alienated the only two people who actually put up with me. Who sit with me in class and lunch. Who occasionally text me on WhatsApp.
But how can they not get that this is important to me? And if I can’t trust them with this, how can I trust them with me?
I shuffle into the last class of the day—Business—with my head held as high as it can be. I’m pretty sure I’m giving myself a stiff neck, but I don’t care. I just want Chaewon and Jess to know they don’t bother me. That I don’t regret my decision, even though there’s a small part of me that keeps repeating what did you do, what did you do, what did you do in a berating mantra.
I take a seat at the very front of the class—where Chaewon would most definitely love to sit—and stare up ahead, waiting for Ms. Montgomery to make her appearance. The rest of the class shuffles in, some of them casting curious glances at me and then at Chaewon and Jess sitting at the back of the class, huddled together. Probably discussing me.
When Flávia walks in, glued to Chyna’s side as always, she glances at me. There’s a twinkle in her eye, and a smile tugging at her lips. My heart flutters at the sight of her even though I’m trying to tell it to shut up because we are rivals and she’s a culture thief! But then Flávia is looking away again, and she and Chyna push past my desk to find a seat by the window.
Ms. Montgomery bounds into the classroom a moment later with a flourish.
“Good afternoon, girls!” She exclaims like we’re about to set off on an exciting adventure and not a regular old business class that nobody really wants to be in.
“Good afternoon,” all of us mumble back in unison. Her smile is as bright as ever as she claps her hands and declares that she’s going to come around to talk to each of us about our business plans, to help us brainstorm further ideas.
“We’re going to have an opening day business showcase next Monday, if all goes to plan,” she says brightly, before dashing off to the first group of girls to discuss their plans. The class immediately erupts into chatter, about businesses and this upcoming showcase.
My stomach drops at the thought. Next Monday seems too close. Only one week to prepare everything, to be open for business and ready to beat Flávia.
When Ms. Montgomery comes around to me a few minutes later, there’s a frown on her lips.
“Nishat, I thought you were in a group of three with Chaewon and Jessica?” She takes the seat beside me and crosses her arms over her chest.
“I was, but … we had … creative differences?”
“Hm.” Her lips are pressed into a thin line. For a moment I think she’ll ask what happened and make me rehash everything in front of the whole class. But she shrugs and says, “Okay. So you’re going solo?”
I nod, thankful that she’s decided against asking any further questions.
“Well, do you have plans? Ideas? Enough to set you up by next Monday?”
“Yeah, I do!” I open up my book and take out all of the sketches and brainstorms that I’ve been working on. I hand them to Ms. Montgomery and watch anxiously as her eyes scan the pages. She sounds out the occasional hmms and ahhs as she reads, but nothing gives away her thoughts.
“You do know there is another group with a similar idea to yours?” She asks when she’s finally finished reading.
“I do.”
“And they’re a larger group, so it might be more difficult for you to compete against them.”
“I know.”
“But you still want to stick with this? Alone?” She doesn’t say it like she disapproves, or thinks that I should change my mind, but like she just wants to confirm that this is really what I want. That I won’t have regrets later.
“I do.” I give her the most confident smile that I can muster.
“Well, I’m excited to see what you can do.” She doesn’t say it with any malice, or hope. More like she is excited to see what I can achieve on my own with this idea.
She slips off to the next table. I let out a breath, running my fingers through my notes and sketches.
Monday.
One week. Barely.
I can do it. Especially now that I’ve successfully lost all of my friends.
15
“WHY DO YOU LOOK SO GRUMPY?” PRITI ASKS ME WHEN we’re on the bus on the way home.
“I’m not grumpy,” I contest, even though I don’t think I can pull my lips into a smile even if I try my hardest. “I just have a lot to do this week.”
“That’s not your stressed face, it’s your grumpy face.”
I cross my arms over my chest. Priti and I don’t keep secrets from each other. Ever since we were kids, we’ve stuck together and spilled our hearts to each other like nobody else mattered. Like there was nobody else to spill our hearts to.
The only secret I kept from her was my sexuality, and that only for a short time while anxiety gnawed away at me. I remember spending several nights restlessly tossing and turning because I was afraid of losing my sister. But like always, Priti came through for me.
She listened aptly while I mumbled the words about who I was, avoiding looking at her because I was afraid of who would be staring back. Even before I had finished, she was hugging me tight and telling me she loved me.
But the thought of telling Priti what happened with Chaewon and Jess makes me feel a little nauseous. How do I tell Priti that I might have lost my only friends to this competition? A competition that hasn’t even started yet? And what if she doesn’t understand how important it is, either?
So I stare out the window of the bus while Priti casts curious glances at me every once in a while. When my phone pings with a new message, we’re both startled out of our thoughts.
I frown before unlocking my phone. Priti’s already scooting closer, trying—unsubtly—to peer at the screen over my shoulder. I push her back, and shoot her a glare.
“What are you doing?”
“I just wanna see. Include me!”
I hold the phone away from her prying eyes. “Mind your business.”
She huffs but picks up her own phone and begins to scroll through her Instagram feed.
One new text, my phone’s notification center declares.
Flávia: just wanted to let you know your plan didn’t work
I frown before quickly typing back, what plan?
The three dots that indicate she’s typing appear almost instantly. I say to my heart, stop beating so loudly! We don’t like her! But as always, my heart refuses to listen, so I wait for her reply with an increased pulse.