I lift my head and spit out sand. Tiny grains trickle down my V-neck. Mina and Farrah apped me to the beach. I’m lying on my stomach at the unpopulated end, facing the ocean. In front of me, the two of them twiddle their fingers. “Oh,” Mina says, “we came by to say a quick ‘hi.’ So you knew we weren’t lying about wanting to come to dinner.” Farrah gasps, but I laugh. “At least not this time, I say.” “Touché, Sister.” Mina gives me a wry smile. “But we do have to decline your mom’s invite.” Farrah changes her black headband to silver. “That anemic boy asked us out.” Us? Mina dabs gloss first on her own, then on Farrah’s lips. “And Azra?” she says, puckering. “Zar sisters always kiss and tell. Text us your details and we’ll text you ours.” Ours? Really? They disappear and I make a mental note to delete all incoming texts from Mina. I prop myself up onto my elbows and wipe my face. My heart’s pounding from apping but also from a feeling in my gut that, for once, Farrah was right.
