ANAM RAHMAN: hurry homeeeee I don’t wanna deal with ma and baba by myself anymore

I type out a quick response. sooooon!

As I’m setting my phone down, Rosie wraps her arms around my neck, pale white skin contrasting against light brown. “Mina. I’m going to die.”

“Hm?” I ask, glancing at her over my shoulder, meeting her blue eyes. “Why?”

“The Nutritional Science lab,” she says, dropping her arms so she can lean against the desk. “Do you think you could help me? My dad will be here soon, but he can wait—”

I shake my head, eyes flicking toward my phone again. “Anam needs my help fending off the parental figures, so we might need to take a rain check. Maybe we can FaceTime later?”

Rosie grimaces and tugs on my dark braid. “I have a thing tonight with my dad’s girlfriend. Maybe tomorrow? It’s due Monday, right?”

I shake my head. “I have a community party on Saturday,” I say, but I’m already rearranging my schedule to make room for a call. With only a few days until casting begins, I’ve been making final tweaks to the script in my free time. “How about Sunday afternoon?”

Rosie smacks a kiss against my cheek. “Perfect.”

I wrinkle my nose, wiping away the leftover strawberry lip gloss residue on my skin.

She rolls her eyes and blows me another mocking kiss as she packs up her own things.

Rosie and I have been best friends for four years now, bonding over a shared love for Studio Ghibli films during freshman year. We’ve been attached at the hip ever since. Last year, instead of running for president of the film club individually, we both agreed to run as co-presidents, even though it wasn’t technically allowed. But we made it happen, because we refused to do it without each other.

As we both leave the classroom, waving to Ms. Somal, Grant catches up to us, running a hand over his buzzed head. “Yo, so I was thinking—”

I slant him a look. “What?”

Grant pouts at me, and Rosie giggles. “Why are you like that? You’re always so quick to jump the gun for no reason. Rosie never does that.”

“You never hit on Rosie,” I say offhandedly.

“I’m not hitting on you,” Grant says, but he has the good sense to look slightly ashamed.

At the same time, Rosie says, “Because I’m gay, dumbass.”

I shake my head at both of them. “What do you want, Grant?”

“Ignore her,” Rosie says, nudging me out of the way. “What’s up?”

Grant smiles at her, white teeth flashing bright against his dark skin. “About the famous celebrity, my dad—”