He lets go of my hand, and I get on the F train. I watch him through the closing doors, and when he raises his camera to take a picture of me this time, I smile.

42

When I get home, a wisp of a smile still on my face, I find Anam in the living room with Nazifa. The two of them are watching a recorded volleyball competition, holding scribbled notes in their laps. I give them a cursory glance and start to head for the stairs when Anam’s voice calls me back.

“Pretty late to be coming home,” my sister says darkly, and my shoulders tense. “Has Emmitt been keeping you out all night?”

Baba, who’s in the kitchen, leans his head around the corner. The pleasant smell of piyajus, Anam’s favorite snack, wafts through the room. “What? Who’s Emmitt?”

I glower at Anam. She definitely did that on purpose. Even Nazifa is looking at Anam in surprise, her eyes darting between my sister and me in clear trepidation.

“No one, Baba,” I say, turning away from Anam’s challenging stare. I’m not going to fight with her, especially not in front of an audience.

Ma appears at the top of the stairs, staring down at me with narrowed eyes. My skin burns beneath her gaze. “Were you outside with a boy?”

I huff a frustrated breath, marching up the stairs, maneuvering past her to get to my room. I refuse to deal with this right now.

My mom grabs my arm, her expression incensed, and I know it’s because Nazifa is witnessing this conversation. It always comes back to what other people think, what other people say.

I consider snapping that Nazifa isn’t going to tell her family about this—because she isn’t, aside from maybe Syeda—and even if she did, Mishti Auntie and Farhan Uncle wouldn’t give a shit. No one cares as much as my parents do.

“Poppy, tell me right now, were you with a boy? You know you’re not allowed—”

“It was for a school project,” I say, shaking her off. I shut my door with a slam, cutting off any conversation that might have progressed.

In my room, I slump onto my bed, groaning. Really? This is how it’s going to be? My sister is going to throw me under the bus for a brief flash of vindication?

Anam and I have always been a team, holding a strong front when it came to our parents.

Apparently that time has come to an end.

Most of my bad mood dissipates by the morning, even though I have to pass Rosie in the cafeteria to get to my locker upon arriving at school. Warm memories of last night float through my head, comforting me despite everything else.