It was no use. His mind had skittered off track. He banged his fist on the table, fighting back tears. This always happened. He started out sharp and snarky—and then, when he actually needed to be able to say something, it all just fizzled out. Poof!

After another heavy minute Mr. Willis sighed and leaned back.

“Well, that’s that. Mrs. Evans, I hope you don’t mind excusing Ahmad for the rest of the day. He’s going to spend some quality time in here thinking about how he can explain this to us.”

“But . . . the project!” Ahmad burst out, unable to help himself. His heart sank. Today was the day that art class projects were announced, and those were legendary.

“Don’t worry, you’re not going to miss out on all of it,” Mr. Willis said, frowning. “But there is a problem. We’re doing it in partnered pairs this time, so unless someone nominates you during class, you’ll have extra work to make up.”

Ahmad sank down in his seat. This day had just gone from bad to worse.

“This isn’t fair,” he mumbled. “It really isn’t fair.”

“I wish I could make an exception and let you come back to class,” Mr. Willis continued, “but the fact that you won’t tell us the whole story—”

Behind them, the door to the conference room shot open. Mr. Willis, his mouth still open, whirled around. Mrs. Evans gasped and nearly dropped her coffee mug.

“Winnie? What are you doing out of class?”

Ahmad stared as Winnie Williamson—straight-A student and pride of the seventh-grade class—stepped through the doorway. Her brown cheeks were slick with sweat and her dark halo of curls were mussed about her face.

She looked nervous, entirely different from the girl who had rushed toward him earlier as Mr. Willis paused to speak to another teacher. That moment, when she pressed the package between his fingers and whispered, “This is yours,” her entire face had been glowing.

“Well, you see . . .” Winnie hesitated for a moment, her hands balled in fists at her sides. And then, almost the way Ahmad would, she just blurted it out.

“Mr. Willis, I’m Ahmad’s partner in crime. And I want to be his partner for the project, too!”

CHAPTER TWO

YOU KNOW, YOU DON’T have to follow me all the way home—unless you aren’t done with getting me in trouble today.”

Winnie Williamson nearly knocked over the city trash can she was casually standing behind. Ahmad waited, trying his best not to squirm in sympathy as she shook off a McDonald’s wrapper clinging to her sleeve and smoothed down her curls.

“I’m not following you! We just happen to be walking in the same direction.”

But Winnie wouldn’t quite look him in the eye. Ahmad felt exasperation writhing like a trampled snake in his gut. It helped loosen his tongue.