But Priti shakes her head. “I think she left around the same time you did. Chyna was kind of mad about it.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t go to parties anymore,” I suggest. “We’re not the best at them.”

Priti scoffs. “We’re great at parties. Other people are bad at them. They’re the problem.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. We’re pretty great.”

“We’re fantastic.” Priti agrees with a smile.

The rest of Saturday passes by without incident. Priti spends a lot of time holed up in her room, studying for an upcoming math test. I want to talk to her more about what happened with Ali, but I’m afraid of making her upset again. Priti is definitely not someone who is prone to crying, so seeing her like that this morning has me shaken.

I spend a lot of time taking test photos of henna designs to put up on my Instagram page. I wonder if it’ll get the same pull as Flávia’s if I do a henna design on Jess and put that up on my page. Jess and Chaewon haven’t said much about the Instagram page, but I’m sure I can convince Jess to hand model for pictures.

Ms. Montgomery wants to see our business plans on Monday to help us get started as soon as possible so I’m feeling extra nervous. I need everything to be perfect.

On Sunday morning Priti knocks on my door, which is a surprise in and of itself. Priti and I are not the type of sisters who knock on each other’s doors and respect each other’s privacy. We barge into each other’s rooms (and lives) without a second thought.

“Ammu wants to talk to you,” she says, cracking the door open and peeking through.

“She wants to talk … to me?”

“To you. That’s what I said.”

“To me? Are you sure?”

“She said, ‘Can you tell Nishat to come over?’” Priti’s trying to be all light-hearted and charming, but I can see from the way her eyes roam around the room, never landing on me, that she’s just as nervous as I am. Ammu and I have barely spoken since I came out to her. She hasn’t even looked me in the eye since that fateful day. What could she want with me now?

“Did she say what she wanted to talk about?” My mind is running through a million worst-case scenarios. My palms are sweaty, my heart is as fast as a hummingbird’s, and I’m pretty sure I’m shaking. What if this is it? The end? What if they’re done skirting around the topic and now they want to do something drastic? I can’t stop thinking about all of the gay people thrown out of their homes.

Priti shakes her head, her eyes finally landing on me. She gulps and it makes me gulp.