I hate that a part of me is grateful for that. I can’t help but feel slightly selfish, but I know I can’t do this without Rosie at my side. I need her to match me in giving a hundred percent to this competition.

“Ro,” I say, once we sit down. “I think we should change the schedule and increase our weekly meetings to make sure everything is prepared leading up to the deadline.”

Rosie frowns, considering my expression, before she sighs and opens her planner. “Which day do you want to add?”

Her tone is reluctant, but it’s an acceptance all the same. “Wednesday would probably be best. And then we can adjust closer to the deadline to see if we need four days.”

Rosie pencil halts, and she gives me a sidelong look. “Mina...”

“What?” I ask.

She sighs again. “Nothing. Yeah, we can adjust closer to the deadline if necessary.”

I nod and lean back in my seat. “I’ll announce it.”

Rosie gestures for me to go ahead, and I stand, calling attention to myself. “In effort to make sure the competition runs as smoothly as possible, we will now be meeting three times a week. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. If you are unable to attend on Wednesdays, let me or Rosie know in advance. Otherwise, I’ll see you all on Wednesday evenings going forward.”

Everyone in the room looks surprised, looking at one another, but the freshmen nod eagerly. Christina even rushes to grab her planner, penciling the meetings in.

“Thank you,” I say and sit back down, pulling out my own phone to make note of the meetings.

Emmitt suddenly appears, plopping into the seat beside me.

“So does this mean I can call you Mina now?” he asks, resting his hands on my desk.

I look down at his hands. His fingers are long, the slopes of his knuckles slightly bruised, rings assorted on half of his fingers. I look back up at him. “What?”

Emmitt arches his brows. “When you introduced yourself, you said Mina Rahman.”

“Did I?” I ask. Though it was only twenty minutes ago, I don’t even recall.

He nods, tapping a beat out on the desk. “So? Does this mean we can drop the formalities?”

“Sure,” I say tiredly. “Whatever.”

Emmitt furrows his brows, and his gaze shifts from me to Rosie. He tilts his head in question, but my best friend only sighs.

“Was there anything else?” I ask.

He slowly shakes his head, then stands and walks over to Grant. I don’t watch him go, but in the corner of my eye I see him whispering something in Grant’s ear.

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

All that matters is winning.

30

I almost wish my birthday was like any other day. Instead, I wake up on March 1 to the sound of my parents screaming.