Mo was waiting in the corridor outside her class. She was feeling sick. She had two exams that day and physics was first. She really hated physics. It was her worst subject. Terry looked back at her from the front of the line, and then looked away quickly. Mo thought she looked guilty. She didn’t have a problem with physics she didn’t have a problem with anything ... Miss Perfect!

“Hi, Mo, it’s your favorite exam today,” said Nima, laughing as she joined the line. Terry was looking at Mo again. “So, what’s wrong with her?” asked Nima. “I thought you were friends.” “Yes, so did I,” said Mo. “But she hasn’t spoken to me for two weeks now. She promised to help me review for the physics exam too, but then she’s ignored all my calls and texts. She’s forgotten who her friends are!” said Mo angrily. Mr. Reed was talking to the class and the other students were going into the exam room. Mo gave Nima a worried look and followed them.

Mo couldn’t answer question number five. She looked up and saw Terry sitting two rows in front of her. Mo couldn’t believe it! Terry was holding her phone on her knee under the table and reading from it. Is that how Terry always got such good grades? She felt really angry at Terry, but she didn’t know what to do. She thought about telling the teacher, but what would everyone else think of her? “Stop writing and put your pens down.” said Mr. Reed as he started to collect the exam papers. Oh no, Mo hadn’t answered two of the questions. She was going to fail again!

Mo wanted to talk to Terry at lunch time, but she couldn’t find her anywhere. The next exam was history. That was Mo’s favorite subject but she wasn’t feeling good. Mo went to the library to study, but she couldn’t concentrate. She didn’t know what to do about Terry. She thought about telling a teacher, but everyone would hate her if she did that. “It wasn’t fair!” she thought. “Terry was getting good grades by cheating all that time.” thought Mo. Just then, Mr. Reed walked past her table. “Mr. Reed.”

Mo was sitting behind Terry again in the history exam that afternoon. Mo was feeling terrible. Why had she told Mr. Reed? But it was too late now. And anyway, Terry didn’t want to be her friend! Mr. Reed wanted her to look at him and nod if she saw that Terry was cheating in the exam. She was working on the last question when she saw that Terry had her phone under the table.

Without thinking, Mo looked up and nodded to Mr. Reed.

Mo was walking towards the school gate, when she heard footsteps behind her.

My world was in a constant state of change and I was having trouble keeping up. Life with Mom, Dad, and my sister, Linda, had always been comfortable and fairly predictable. My grades were good, and Linda and I got on well. We played together and fought together, the way sisters do. As the older one, I was used to being told to set an example, which wasn’t too difficult, since Linda was only two years younger, and she usually wanted to do anything I did, anyway. Life was pretty good.

Then the changes started coming.

First came a family meeting with surprising news that would change my world. We were moving. Our new home would be across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, in another borough of New York City. We were leaving the only home I had ever known. Even worse, it would occur right before the beginning of sixth grade. Not only would I not be able to graduate from elementary school with my friends, but I would have to start middle school with a class full of kids who had known each other, and bonded, since kindergarten. Where would that leave me?

I spent the summer adjusting to a new neighborhood, literally being the new kid on the block. Making friends didn’t come easily to me, and it didn’t help being the eldest child of immigrant parents. I was different, and being different is the last thing any middle school student wants. The fear of starting a new school hung over me like a black cloud, damaging each summer day.

The first day of school arrived too quickly. I entered my new classroom trying very hard not to appear as scared as I felt, but it wasn’t easy. Twenty-eight faces turned to look up at me as I followed the Assistant Principal into the room. They all looked so cool, and some of the girls even wore make-up. How would I ever fit in? I was out of touch in every way possible. I wasn’t allowed to wear make-up or nail polish. Most of my clothes were handmade, sewn by my mother and grandmother.

Mr. Bernstein welcomed me to the classroom and introduced me to my new desk mate—Janet.

We walked to the cafeteria, sat together, and opened our lunch bags.

“This time, it’s a teamwork,” our English teacher said one Monday morning. “You’re going to read a nice book together with two or three teammates. Then each team will make a presentation by the end of the week. The team that makes the best presentation will get a prize.” As soon as our teacher finished explaining the rules, Liya went to me and asked, “Teammates?”

Since Liya and I were interested in picture books and took painting class together, I agreed to be her teammate without a second thought.

During the lunchtime, we went to the dining room together to exchange ideas on the reading project over lunch. Kasha, with whom I always did stuff together, happened to sit at the next table.

“Kasha, do you have any good idea for us?” I asked casually.

“Why should I give you guys ideas?” she replied in a hurt tone. “I’ll save them for my own team. After all, I am not your first choice for the project.”

On hearing this, I realized that she was mad with me, for a good reason. If I were her，not only would I feel hurt, but I’d also be worried about which team I could join. Now I had my teammate and Kasha didn’t.

With my eyes fixed on the floor, I apologized in a low voice, “I’m sorry to leave you out. But would you like to join us now?”

I thought that Kasha would be pleased with the invitation. To my surprise, she refused immediately. At the very moment, I realized that Kasha was really angry. So, I decided to do something to let her know that she was always one of my best friends.

That evening, I happened to see a picture book that Kasha and I had read together.

The next day, I slipped my painting into Kasha’s desk, hoping that it would make her forgive me.