“You come to our Brazilian barbecues every summer. You eat our food. Do you think it’s trendy?”

“No … yes … I don’t know. That’s just something we do. Not a trend.”

“Neither is being Korean,” Chaewon says from the other side of us. “Or wanting to sell something that’s Korean. It’s just something I do.”

“Or henna. That’s just something that’s a part of my culture. Just like our food is—you know, the food that apparently gives everyone digestive issues?” I shrug. “One you thought was trendy, the other you didn’t, so you used it to spread rumors about my family.”

“That’s … different,” Chyna says, but for once she doesn’t sound like she actually believes what she’s saying.

Flávia shakes her head and says, “Imagine someone said the same stuff about me that you said about Nishat. Imagine they excluded me because I eat Brazilian food and speak Portuguese.”

“That would never happen,” Chyna chimes in immediately. “Flávia, that’s not … Nishat hasn’t given you the whole story. Nishat has her own friends, and her sister. I’ve never had anything against her.”

“You spread rumors about her for being a lesbian.” It’s Jess who volunteers this piece of information, and I wonder if it’s going to make Flávia back off. But it doesn’t. Her grip on my shoulder tightens, and I’m not sure if it’s to help her or to help me.

“Because being gay makes her different?” Flávia asks, and I’m not sure if anyone else hears the tremble in her voice but I do and it sends an ice pick through my heart.

“I didn’t spread any rumors about anyone,” Chyna says, with less and less conviction. “I really don’t know why you’re ganging up on me like this.”

Flávia takes a deep breath and says, “Come on, Nishat.” She slips her fingers through mine and leads me away from Chyna and the hall full of girls in our year. All of them seem a little stunned by what’s just passed. If I’m honest, I’m also more than a little astonished. The most I expected was to get rid of some of my anger by telling Chyna what was what. I never expected this.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say to Flávia once we’re outside the school building. The place is deserted. Most people have already gone home. It’s only our Business class left now.

“I think I did.”

“You didn’t have to do it for me.”

Flávia smiles. “I did it more for me than for you, Nishat.”

We sit down on the steps beside us. They’re near the front entrance to the school but far enough away to obscure us from view.