Sadia. Colleen Nelson

rolled my eyes. Mom was so predictable. Education was the number-one most important thing to my parents. Once they’d decided Aazim was going to be a doctor, Dad had determined I’d be an engineer. If he’d asked me, I’d have told him I wanted to be the next Kia Nurse and play basketball for Team Canada.

      “Can I see?” she asked, coming around the counter. She had it out of the pouch before I could say no.

      “Here, let me show you,” I said and took it from her before she could turn it on. The first photo was one of Mariam without her head scarf. I held it close to my chest and clicked past the incriminating shot, then passed it to her.

      She grinned as I showed her pictures of basketball tryouts and the one of me that Josh had taken. She pressed the arrow button for the next picture, but instead of stopping like my iPhone did, it went back to the beginning. “Is that Mariam?” she asked, leaning closer to the camera. The three of us — me, Amira, and Mariam — looked back from the screen. Two with head scarves, one without.

      Mom’s eyebrows shot up. I turned the camera off quickly. Oh boy.

      “Why isn’t she in hijab?”

      “Don’t say anything to her parents, okay? She’ll never speak to me again.”

      “They should know.”

      “Not from us.”

      Mom pursed her lips. “Do you do that? Change at school?”