“What did … what did she say to you when you told her you wouldn’t have an idea for her until later?” I ask after too much silence has passed for it to be normal.

“Well …” Chaewon begins. “We actually did give her an idea.”

“Oh?”

“It was … I mean, I don’t know if you read all of the texts in the group chat, but Jess and I had kind of settled on an idea before you suggested the henna business.”

I try to recall what the texts in the group chat were about. I remember scanning through a few of them without really considering them. Maybe I should have taken their ideas into consideration before bulldozing in with my own but, whatever their idea is, I’m sure mine is better. Mine is unique. Authentic. Nobody else would have thought of it … unless of course they attended a South Asian wedding and decided to take all of the sparkly, nice things from our culture that they liked.

“What’s the idea?”

“Well, you know how my parents have their shop in town?”

“The Korean shop?”

“Yes! Well, my mom sells these cute trinkets that she imports from Korea. They’re really popular over there, so I thought we would try and sell them over here too. I think the girls in school will really like them. They have cute cartoon characters on them and stuff.” Chaewon’s voice is bright as she says all of this, like she’s really excited about it. She must have been excited all along, but I didn’t even consider it. I feel a stab of guilt in my stomach but I push it down.

I may not have indulged Chaewon’s idea, but she hasn’t stood up for me, well … ever. Shouldn’t we have some kind of solidarity between us? We’re both Asians. We’re both minorities. I would stand up for her.

“It sounds like a good idea,” I say, trying to mean it. It’s reselling products that her mom has already shipped in; not exactly the pinnacle of creativity, but it is … something. And I’m sure that most of the other girls in our year will be doing something similar.

Minimal work, after all.

“Thanks.” There’s a dip in her voice. “And I’m … I’m sorry about what happened earlier today.”

Ah, there it is. What she really called to say.

“It’s …” I begin to say it’s okay, before realizing that really, it isn’t okay. That the way things happened was far from okay. Friends shouldn’t treat each other like that. “It’s … what it is,” I say instead.

“Jess was upset. She … was never really a fan of your idea, but she wanted to try it because you were so excited, you know? But you have to admit, you were pushing us out a little bit. It felt more like your thing than ours.”