I slip through the almost empty corridors until I get to the one where my locker is located. Right next to Flávia’s.

I saw the henna tubes there this morning, stuffed into the top shelf, nearly toppling over. She doesn’t have even half as many as I do, but she has enough.

My heartbeat is suddenly faster than should be humanly possible. A scene of someone catching me in the act replays in my head as I open Flávia’s locker. Sure, Priti is keeping lookout, but there’s only so much she can do. And if I get caught, she’ll be in trouble too.

Grabbing a handful of the henna tubes, I drop them through the limited spaces between the books in my bag, until they’ve disappeared into the black depths of the bottom.

I’ve almost emptied out the locker when I hear a chorus of voices in the distance. My eyes dart toward the voices, but they’re far enough away, and Priti hasn’t sent me a warning text. Maybe they’re turning down another hallway, or going into an empty classroom.

I should be okay, I hope.

I take the last of the henna tubes and stuff them into my bag before zipping it up.

As the group of girls round the corner—a bunch of tall, gangly sixth years who look at me with frowns as they pass—I’m jiggling open my own locker door. When they disappear out of sight, I breathe a sigh of relief.

But now I realize I have a different problem entirely. Do I have to go through the rest of the school day with these henna tubes in my bag? What if Flávia realizes they’re missing and reports it? Will they search the school? Lockers? Bags?

And what if my books mess up the henna tubes? What if the henna leaks all over my school bags? Then I would be caught red-handed. Literally.

“What are you planning to do with those?” I hear a familiar voice behind me as I swing my locker door shut. Chyna is staring at me with the smuggest smile I’ve ever seen.

“With what?” I blink back at her innocently, my voice far calmer than I feel. There are a million thoughts screaming in my head, most of them to the tune of when did she get here? And how much did she see? And where is Priti?

Her smile tells me she’s seen far more than I want her to. Her gaze travels down to the bag that I’m clutching in my arms. Hugging to me like it’s my lifeline.

“I won’t ask you to show me,” she says, like she’s doing me a favor. “I’m sure Principal Murphy will be more than happy to ask you to do that.”