“Do you want me to go get your stuff from inside?” I ask. My bag and all of my henna supplies are still strewn across my table; I’m hoping Chaewon or Jess will grab them.

“It’s fine. I’m sure … Chyna will take care of it.”

“Are you okay?” It’s the only question I can think to ask even though it doesn’t feel quite right.

She shrugs and says, “Are you okay?”

I smile. “I guess it felt kind of good to stand up to Chyna for once.”

“Even though you were standing up for someone else and not yourself?”

“I guess it’s easier to stand up for someone else. Plus … Chaewon and Jess don’t deserve that kind of slander. They worked hard. They didn’t play any games. They won fair and square.”

“I feel like I’ve seen a new side of Chyna these past few months.” Flávia sighs.

“Did you know her as a nice person before?”

Flávia lets out a small laugh, like thinking of Chyna as a nice person is maybe a little bit too much to ask for. “Chyna … has always been competitive and strong-willed. It can come in handy, like, when our whole family gets together and we play games together or whatever. I always hope I’m on Chyna’s team because I know she’s going to win. Whether we’re playing soccer in the summer or Harry Potter trivia in the winter.”

“Chyna likes Harry Potter?” I don’t know why that’s the most shocking thing to hear—but it really is. I would never have thought someone like Chyna could be a Harry Potter fan.

“We watch the movies every Christmas when they’re on TV.”

I can’t imagine it—Flávia and Chyna sitting in front of the TV marathoning Harry Potter of all things. I still only see Chyna as the girl who’s been tormenting me and my friends for the past three years.

“It’s funny because in my old school, when the girls sometimes said mean things to me because I’m Black, Chyna would get so angry. And now I’m not sure if she was angry because she knew it was wrong or because … it was me and I’m the exception to her rule. And is that good or is that bad?”

I definitely can’t imagine Chyna having any kind of a moral compass when it comes to things like race, but I furrow my eyebrows and try to work through it. Try to work out what Chyna saw in me the first day we met, and then later at the party when everything fell apart.

“Maybe it’s both?” I offer.

“Isn’t that a paradox?”