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“Of course not! I'm stressed because the popcorn machine just lost it, and I didn't know how to fix it! And I should know how to fix it.’ I step back, surprised. I don't think I've ever heard Amira yell before. Sure, we've argued and had our spats over the years, but she's never really had an outburst like this. At least, not in front of me. ‘Sorry.’ Amira's voice is low. She hangs her head, and I know she's feeling embarrassed. ‘That was a lot.’ I shrug. ‘I've had my fair share of meltdowns before. It's nothing I can't handle.’ Amira snorts at that. ‘Oh, I know about your meltdowns. Remember when you got a ninety-nine on that art project, and Ms. Bloom said it was because there was 'no such thing as perfection' when it came to art.’ ‘Which was ridiculous,’ I say. ‘I stayed up for hours working on that stupid papier-mâché mask, and Taylor painted it for me, so I know it was, in fact, perfection.’ ‘Wow, I can't believe you confessed to cheating.’ Amira clutches a hand to her chest dramatically, and I roll my eyes. ‘I did not cheat; I outsourced the final step of my project to someone who actually has skills. And I helped her with the English essay that week. It was an even exchange.’ ‘Sure, sure, whatever you say, cheater.” — Zakiya N. Jamal