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and she began striding toward it, but I blocked her path. “Hey!” I said, trying on a broad smile. “How are you? Did Pallavi get to school okay? I’m sorry she was so cranky on your morning. What do you think was bothering her?”
    Priyanka wrinkled her nose, adjusting her glasses. “What’s going on?”
    I blinked. “With me? Nothing. Well, my backpack is kindof heavy, but—”
    She rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Sachi?”
    My heart sank. “What makes you think I want something?” In the old days, Priyanka and I always talked about our little sister. In fact, last year at this time, we were dropping her off at school together. But ever since the winter, Priyanka had gone from doing everything with me to criticizing everything I did. I had no idea what I had done to deserve it or how to make things right. Now, as she stood in front of me with her arms folded, her long braid flopping over her shoulder like the tail of an agitated raccoon, I thought,
She probably won’t listen, but I have to try.
    â€œOkay,” I said, taking a deep breath, “you know how I wanted to be in the after-school Video class?”
    She shifted her jaw to the side. “Yes?”
    â€œSo I sort of . . . got in. And—”
    â€œWhat?” She spoke with such force that the koala bear hanging from her backpack jumped on the end of its key chain. “What did you do, you forged the signature?”
    I looked at the koala’s matted fur, feeling like I was dangling from a chain myself. “Maybe.”
    As two girls walked by, one pointed at the koala, and the other one giggled. I felt my face grow hot.
    â€œMa and Papa are going to kill you,” Priyanka declared.“Do you really think they’re not going to find out? What do you think will happen when your class takes the practice test? They’ll know you haven’t been studying.”
    I cringed. Priyanka had gotten to the second part of my plan sooner than I had wanted her to. “Well,” I said, “I was hoping you could lend me your books from last year.”
    She stared at me. “Are you crazy? I’m not helping you with this.”
    â€œPlease?” I begged. “I’ll make sure they don’t find out.”
    â€œI can’t even believe we’re having this conversation,” she said. “Why do you need to take Video
now
? Just do it next year, when you’ve already gotten into high school.”
    Would she understand my reasons if I explained them? I had to try. “Do you remember the video in last year’s Arts Assembly?” I asked. “Where they talked about the different nationalities at school like we were countries on the news? You know, when the white girl asked the Muslim girl in the head scarf for the ketchup, and the voice-over said, ‘America recognized Pakistan today’?”
    I thought it would make her smile—I knew she’d liked the video too—but she folded her arms. “You think because those two boys made a video and got into Stuyvesant, you will too?” she asked. “You know that it’s just based on test scores, right?”
    â€œYes,” I said impatiently. “I know how it works.” How could I not, with my parents quoting from the
New York City Specialized High School Handbook
every evening? “I just meant—that video was so cool, and I want to make one like it. Not exactly like it, though—more like a sequel. If I wait until next year, people won’t even remember the first one.”
    â€œSo?” said Priyanka. “What’s worse—people not remembering last year’s video, or being the only cousin who didn’t get into Stuyvesant? I mean, if
I
get in.” Her tone showed that she thought she would.
    â€œI know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but . . .” I didn’t think I could tell her the other reason I had to take