She shifted on the bench, and Ahmad prepared himself to shuffle closer to the edge, but she paused.

“Hey, what’s this?” She leaned in over his shoulder. Ahmad impatiently tapped his fingers against his rectangular Switch screen to zoom in on what she noticed.

“It’s really weird, but this game seemed to come with some sort of bizarre avatar system, like one for a game you would play online,” Ahmad said, peering closely at the screen. “You choose them to represent your character. Oh, do you want one of the controllers?”

“Yeah!” Winnie hummed distractedly. “Is it just me, or do these avatars seem really detailed?”

“In what way?” he asked.

She leaned in and tapped against the screen. “The hair on this one looks just like mine. All my frizzy curls. They look so real. . . .”

Ahmad looked up at her.

Winnie’s brow was furrowed. “Ahmad,” she said, “do you have something to tell me?”

Oh no.

He knew that tone of voice.

It was the same tone Mrs. Evans used on him when she had her doubts about who actually started the skirmish at the lunch table or threw an eraser at her back when she was writing on the board.

“No. Like what?”

“You were just freaking out at me for following you home, but this avatar on the screen totally looks like me! It’s even the same shade of brown as me. Did you talk to your sister about me or something?”

“I didn’t! I swear!” Ahmad spluttered. “I just—it doesn’t really look like you.” But he had to admit, it certainly did.

Winnie raised her eyebrows and tapped her finger against the screen. Under her touch, the avatar twitched and shook out its—her—fluffy tight curls in a very Winnie way.

“Well, maybe it does, but I really don’t know how! Honest, I don’t!”

Ahmad really didn’t. He wasn’t the type of kid who was in school plays or exhibitions, so Farah had no opportunity to size up his schoolmates. Besides, this type of deliberate friendship arranging was more of Ma’s embarrassing style.

But it was bothering him now: How could this be?

Before either of them could say more, though, the machine in Ahmad’s lap caught their attention. “It’s ready,” Winnie whispered.

Ahmad took a deep breath and clicked start. For a moment, the screen flickered—and then returned to the same menu. He growled in frustration. “All that time and it won’t even turn on?”

“Let me try,” Winnie said, and took the Switch from his hands. She tapped one of the avatars—the girl that she said looked just like her—and dragged it to the center of the screen.

They waited one moment.

Two.

Ahmad shook his head.

“Forget it. Nothing’s working right today.”

He reached out to take the machine back from Winnie. Their hands met over the avatar.