“Nishat.” Her lips are pressed into a thin line. “What do you want?”

“You can’t stand that someone else gets attention even for a second, can you?” The words tumble out of me before they’ve even formed in my mind. It’s like I’m working off adrenaline.

Her lips get thinner somehow. “What are you talking about?” she asks at the same time that Flávia shuffles over with wide eyes and says, “Hey, Nishat.”

I barely register her. All I can see is Chyna, with her wispy blonde hair and blue eyes—trying to manipulate a victory for someone who deserves it, just like she tries to manipulate everything. Like she manipulated our friendship to make herself out to be kind of person who fits in, and me to be the “other.”

“Telling people that the only reason Chaewon and Jess won the business competition is because being diverse is trendy?” It’s an effort to get out the words in a remotely calm and collected way. The way Flávia is looking back and forth from Chyna to me makes me think maybe I’m not as composed as I think I am.

Chyna has the gall to sigh, like this conversation is boring her. “People like new things. It’s not exactly a reach. Whatever Korean stuff they were selling is something we haven’t seen here before so yeah, it’s trendy and nothing we have is going to be new in the same way.”

“Like henna is trendy?”

Chyna rolls her eyes. “Yes, like henna is trendy. That’s why we did the whole henna thing. That’s how business works, Nishat.” She says it as if she has a master’s degree in business and I’m someone who needs to be schooled.

There is more anger in me than I know what to do with. But before I can say anything more, Flávia’s hand is on my shoulder. Instead of sending me into a tizzy like it normally would, it actually calms me. I feel like she’s on my side for once.

“Flá, come on, we have to finish packing up,” Chyna is already turning away and I realize that a bit of a crowd has gathered around us. I must not have been as quiet as I thought I was being. Chaewon and Jess are looking at me from their almost-packed stall with wide eyes. Chaewon gives me a weak smile when I catch her eye.

“Chy, do you think it’s trendy to be Brazilian?” Flávia asks this softly enough, but it seems to ring out across the entire hall. More and more students are stopping in their tracks to listen in on this conversation. I don’t think Flávia cares.

Chyna turns back, brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and heaving another deep sigh. “What are you on about, Flávia?”