“You don’t have an older brother, do you?” I ask Aniyah abruptly.
“Nope. One younger sister. She’s thirteen, so she’s kind of an asshole.”
“Tell me about it. Mine are eleven and fourteen. They’re the worst.” I hoist Binx closer to my chest, holding on to him like a surly security blanket. “So you . . . what? Wanna start the fat brown girl clique?”
She cocks her head at me. “Doesn’t that sound dope as hell?”
Honestly? It really does.