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“Do you think if I hadn’t moved, you wouldn’t have ended up hating me?' Amira asks, catching me off guard. 'I don’t hate you,' I say automatically. 'Maybe not anymore,' Amira says. 'But you made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with me the moment we started at North, and I never understood why.' 'I told you why,' I say, defensive. 'It wasn’t personal. I just didn’t think being friends with you would be conducive to me reaching my goals.' Amira shakes her head and pushes to standing. 'Rochelle, how could I not take that personally?' 'I—' 'Just forget it,' Amira says, waving a hand. 'I don’t know why I even brought it up. I should go.' “Amira . . .' I falter, unsure what I want to say, but Amira doesn’t wait for me to figure it out. 'I’ll see you at work,' she says, and then she’s gone.” — Zakiya N. Jamal