“I’m waiting for you to tell me how beautiful I look, obviously.”

“Wow, Apujan, you’re so beautiful,” Priti deadpans. Her face and voice are so devoid of emotion that I burst into a fit of giggles. She joins me a second later, and soon we’re both bent over laughing.

Priti wipes a tear from her eye and I blink rapidly, trying to keep my tear ducts in check.

“You’re going to make my makeup run,” I say after the giggling has finally stopped.

“You started it!”

She catches my eye in the mirror and I’m surprised by how alike we look, even with my face full of makeup and hers without any. I am a shade darker, but we both have the same wide eyes, inherited from Ammu, and the too-round face inherited from Abbu. Perhaps the biggest difference is Priti’s button nose, compared to my longer, slightly arched one.

After a beat of silence, Priti says, “You’ll be careful at the party, right?”

“Yes.” I’m not sure if I’m telling the truth or not. When matters of the heart are involved, it’s difficult to be careful.

Even from the outside, Flávia’s house is already far different from Chyna’s. It’s a small, narrow brick house wedged between two other strikingly similar buildings. When I climb the small steps and ring the doorbell, it emits a hollow sound.

Chyna, surprisingly, greets me with a smile and a hug when the door swings open. I can smell beer on her.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” she exclaims, brushing back wisps of her thin, blonde hair.

“You are?” I ask, but she doesn’t seem to hear me—or care.

She grabs my hand and drags me inside, through a pair of double doors and into a sitting room that’s full to bursting.

“Last one!” She shouts loudly at the room full of people. They glance up, some utterly nonchalant, some with broad grins on their faces. They all let out a cheer that drowns out the beat of the music. I catch sight of Chaewon and Jess in a corner, and turn away. I’m not in the mood to face them tonight.

Flávia strolls up to me once the crowd has turned back to itself and Chyna has disappeared somewhere among the throng.

“I guess our entire year is here?” I shout over the music, by way of greeting.

“Yeah,” Flávia shouts, a sheepish smile on her lips. “She’s pretty excited that she was the one to do it.”

Is that the only reason I got invited? Why Flávia called a truce? I try to ignore those thoughts. I’m here, after all. There’s nothing I can do about it now.

I see Flávia’s lips move but the sound gets drowned out by the music, which seems to be getting louder and louder with every passing second.