Rebels by Accident

by Patricia Dunn

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I wipe my face.

  “Well, I think Hassan is trying to say maybe Sittu’s afraid to love you too much because she knows you’re going to leave.”

  “Excuse me, Deanna, but Sittu already loves Mariam ‘too much.’”

  Deanna and I just look at Hassan.

  “I think,” he says, taking off my sunglasses and looking me in the eyes, “your sittu loves you, but she just may not show it in a way you understand. You see, sometimes we are hardest on the ones who mean the most to us. Our expectations are higher.”

  I think I understand what he’s getting at. It’s not all that different from the way Baba and Mom treat me sometimes. They have such high expectations for me that I never feel like I’m living up to them.

  “Well, for the record, it’s not just an Egyptian thing. My mother’s on my case all the time,” Deanna says.

  “I suppose this may be one of those universal principles.” Hassan smiles at Deanna. I can see from the way she looks back at him that all is forgiven.

  I blow my nose in Sittu’s hankie.

  “Are you calling the mummies to life?” Hassan jokes.

  I can’t help but crack a smile.

  “Yalla?” Hassan asks.

  I look up, and from this angle, the pyramid looks even taller. I’ve never felt smaller in my life.

  “Look, you don’t have to do this,” Deanna says. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

  “No, she won’t.”

  “Just breathe.” Hassan takes my hand in his like Sittu did. “You can do this. You’re Egyptian.”

  “Egyptians aren’t afraid of heights?”

  “Well, I thought I’d give it a try.” Hassan laughs in a kind of goofy way, then covers his mouth, embarrassed.

  “Okay, I’ll try.” As afraid as I may be of heights, I’d rather jump out of a plane than face an angry Sittu.

  “Yalla,” Deanna says, grabbing my other hand. She and Hassan help me take my first step into the pyramid and what I expect to be darkness, except lighting has been set into the walls above us.

  Hassan takes the lead. I’m next. Deanna is “the sweep,” as she calls herself. I think she’s making sure I don’t turn around and run.

  “There’s a chamber below. Shall we go there first?” Hassan asks.

  “Let’s go to the very top first,” I say.

  “Really?” Deanna says.

  “Really. Let’s get it over with.”

  “To the top,” Hassan says.

  “Upward!” Deanna shouts, and the pit of my stomach feels the same way it did when Baba made me ride the Dragon Coaster with him at Rye Playland. As we got to the very top and it was time to fall, and fall fast, I looked down—and promptly threw up on the people in the car in front of us.

  “Hold on to the side poles.”

  “Okay,” I tell Hassan, but not before I touch the stone walls on both sides of me. The passageway is narrower than I thought. Hassan has exactly five freckles on the back of his neck, and together, they make the shape of a tiny banana. Focus on the banana and you will be fine, I think.

  We begin to climb. Before I take my third step, I trip and fall into Hassan.

  So much for fruit.

  “You okay?” He grabs my hand to help steady me.

  “Yeah.” I look down at what I tripped over.

  “The slats are there for safety, so we don’t slide down,” Hassan says. I am probably the only one who has ever tripped on the safety devices. I hold on to the poles, wishing I could hold on to Hassan’s hand the whole way instead.

  “This is harder than climbing to the top of the Statue of Liberty,” Deanna says, “but just as hot. It’s like there’s no air in here.”

  “No air?! What do you mean?!”

  “Calm down. There’s plenty of air. I just meant it gets hot in here. It must be so much worse in the summer.”

  “Someday, I have to climb the Statue of Liberty,” Hassan says.

  “You must.”

  “Well, we’ll see if I can get a visa.”

  “You can stay with my mother and me,” Deanna offers, crowding me in an effort to get closer to Hassan.

  He’s already using Deanna to come to the States.

  “Please—claustrophobic.” I elbow Deanna to get her to move back.

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s very kind,” Hassan says, “but my brother lives in New Jersey, and he would be very insulted if I didn’t stay with him.”

  His brother? “You have family in the States?”

  “My brother and his family live in Paramus. Do you know the place?” He looks over his shoulder at me.

  “The Paramus mall,” Deanna says, jutting her head over my shoulder. Hassan stops climbing and turns. Their faces are so close, I think they’re going to kiss with me stuck between them.

  “Why are we stopping?” someone shouts from behind us. The accent sounds French.

  “Great mall,” Deanna says.

  Hassan continues the climb.

  “Hassan, why wouldn’t you get a visa with your brother already in the U.S?”

  “Your government makes it hard for people like me to travel these days.”

  “People like who?”

  “Young Arab men.”

  “You’re Egyptian,” I say.

  “Well, your country doesn’t really see the difference.”

  “Egypt is in Africa,” I say.

  “Well, yes, but we are still Arabic-speaking people and mostly Muslim.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you’re Arab.”

  Hassan stops climbing again and turns to me. “You say Arab like it’s a bad word.”

  Startled, I stumble and Hassan grabs my arm and pulls me to him.

  “Careful,” he says.

  “I didn’t mean to offend.” I guess whether it’s coming out of some TV reporter’s mouth or Karen’s mouth back at school, Arab always sounded like a dirty word.

  “Mariam, please understand, Egyptians are not from the Arabian Peninsula, and our histories and cultures are very different, but when it comes to—”

  “WHAT IS THE HOLD UP?” echoes up the staircase.

  “Hold your horses!” Deanna snaps.

  “Alas, this is not the place for such a discussion.”

  Hassan picks up the pace. We don’t talk, and as I take each step, I think about Hassan and how he seems like a guy who only wants to help.

  I start to think I’m glad Sittu made me do this when the ceiling drops so low that I have to bend over. It’s so dark that I can barely see Hassan.

  “Deanna, I want to go back.” I turn to her. “Please. I can’t breathe.”

  “What?”

  “It’s too hot! I want to go back down. Now!” I reach out, accidentally grabbing Deanna’s right tit.

  “Ow!”

  “You have to get out of my way. Now.”

  “Mariam, you can’t go back now. You’ve come so far.” She won’t get out of my way. “You know you’ll so regret not finishing this.”

  “Please! Get out of my way. I want to go back down!” I’m struggling with Deanna, my voice getting louder and louder.

  “Let her go back down already, so the rest of us can go up!”

  “Take deep breaths,” Deanna says, ignoring the voice from behind us.

  “Deanna, I’m freaking out. I can’t breathe.”

  “She wants to go back. Please. Let her go,” Hassan says from the dark.

  “Fine. I’m coming with you,” Deanna says. “Excuse me,” she says over and over, pushing people to the side.

  “It’s scarier going down.” My eyes are burning and I’m gasping for air.

  “Hold my hand,” Deanna says, “and stop panting. You’ll pass out.”


  I take a deep breath, grab Deanna’s hand tightly, and, focusing on the back of her light green T-shirt, let her lead me to safety.

  chapter

  THIRTEEN

  When we leave the Great Pyramid, we find Sittu sitting exactly where we left her, and she’s arguing with a man holding a camel by its reins.

  “Emshi!” she shouts.

  I rush toward her, thinking she’s in trouble, when Hassan pulls me back. “If he sees us, he’ll want to raise his prices.”

  “For what?”

  “Emshi? Doesn’t that mean ‘walk’?” Deanna asks.

  “In this context, it’s like saying ‘get walking’ or ‘get lost.’ She’s negotiating a better price for the camel ride.”

  “Camel ride? I’d rather walk,” I say. The last thing I want to do is get up on something that high off the ground that doesn’t have a seat belt.

  “It looks like fun,” Deanna says. “But I don’t want to look like a geeky American tourist.”

  Hassan raises his eyebrow, like, Are you kidding me? but instead, he says, “You look beautiful.”

  “And you’re pretty good-looking yourself,” Deanna says, looking into his eyes.

  I turn away. Get a room already.

  We watch the guy walk away with his camel, but he only goes a few feet before he returns to Sittu. He says something that I can’t hear, and again, Sittu yells, “Emshi!”

  Again, he walks away with his camel, only to come back a few moments later. This time, Sittu stands up, and Hassan says, “I think she’s done.”

  The three of us walk over to her. “Ready?” Sittu says.

  I’m not ready to climb up on that beast, but I’m even less ready to argue with Sittu about it. “Sure,” I lie.

  The camel guy looks Deanna and me up and down. “American,” he says. I think he’s just figured out that he’s been duped.

  He waves over another guy with a camel.

  “My name is Hakim, and this is George.”

  “George?” Deanna and I say in unison.

  “Yes, George,” George says.

  “Okay, George. I’m with you,” Deanna says. “This is going to be great! Thank you, Sittu.” Hassan and George help her into the saddle, and she looks so graceful, you’d think she’s ridden a camel a million times before. The camel spits and shakes his head, but otherwise doesn’t seem to mind too much.

  “Mar, it’s amazing up here,” Deanna calls as George walks the camel around in a circle. “This is so much more fun than riding a horse.”

  Okay, but I’ve never ridden a horse.

  “Ready?” Hassan turns to me.

  The saddle is way too high up; I’d so much rather walk. But when I look at Sittu standing, arms folded, tapping her foot in the sand, I don’t even bother to argue.

  “Okay.”

  “Put your foot into my hands,” Hassan says, “and we’ll hoist you up on the count of three.”

  I nod, not wanting my voice to quiver, and lift my foot in the air, trying not to fall back.

  “Waahid,” Hassan starts.

  “Itnein,” Hakim continues.

  “Talaata,” they finish the count together, and before I know it, I’m up on the camel, but I lose my balance and start to slip down the other side. George leaves Deanna and runs over just in time to push me back up.

  “You okay now?” Hassan asks, biting his front lip, trying not to laugh. Sittu’s covering her mouth, and Deanna’s looking down at the ground. But George and Hakim aren’t holding anything back. They’re cracking up like I’m the funniest thing they’ve seen in years.

  “Aren’t you going to ride?” I ask, looking down at Hassan and Sittu. “I thought Egyptians weren’t afraid of heights.”

  “Not heights. Big teeth.” Hassan grins, showing us his teeth. I didn’t notice before, but he has one crooked tooth on the right side. From the way Deanna’s staring at him, she must think it makes him cuter. It does.

  “You’ve ridden one camel, you’ve ridden them all.” Sittu slaps her thigh; she cracks herself up. “We’re going to drive the car around and meet you both in front of the Sphinx.” I hear Umm Kulthum coming from Sittu’s bag. Sittu pulls out her phone and looks down. “A tweet,” she says. “Hassan, it looks like tomorrow will be the day.”

  “The day for what?” I ask.

  Sittu looks up at me, but before she gives me an answer, Deanna says, “Sittu! You have an iPhone. I should’ve known you were messing with me.” She pulls out her own iPhone and shows Sittu. “When we get back, I’ll show you my apps. I have some great games. I can even check my horoscope.”

  “You can let the stars—or your iPhone—guide you, but I think the camel will get you closer to your destination.” Sittu smiles. “Yalla, Hassan.” Sittu and Hassan walk in the direction of the car. George and Hakim walk us toward the Sphinx.

  “Isn’t this amazing?” Deanna calls out to me. “This is, like, the best day of my life.”

  “I’m happy for you,” I yell back, holding the reins as tight as I can. I don’t want to fall off and break my neck.

  “Oh my God, did you see that? My camel just spit all the way across…Mariam! Are you listening to me?”

  I can’t listen and be terrified at the same time. “Are you upset about not climbing to the top of the pyramid? It’s not a big deal—”

  “Just not having the best time,” I say.

  “Egypt is so amazing!”

  “I was referring to this moment, on this animal, but if you really want to know how I feel…” I stop myself. Dumping on Deanna isn’t going to make anything better. It’s not going to get me home, it’s not going to get my sittu to like me, and it won’t even get me off this stupid camel. We don’t both need to be miserable.

  “Tell me.” She leans so far in my direction I’m afraid she’s going to fall off her camel and onto me.

  George and Hakim shout, “Careful!”

  “Deanna,” I snap, “sit up straight!”

  “Tell me what you’re so pissed about, then.”

  “I’m just tired.”

  “The truth.” She leans so far toward me that I reach for her, thinking she’s going to fall, and almost slip again.

  “Please!” Hakim and George both shout, running to my side.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

  “See, Mar, if you don’t tell me, we’ll both fall off these camels and break our necks.”

  “You had me up half the night with Hassan this and Hassan that!” I finally say, looking straight ahead.

  “Well, excuse me.” She sits up straight again. “I was just excited. Sorry. I wanted to share that with my best friend.”

  “I’m happy for you. I really am. I’m just tired.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “Miss, here is the second pyramid,” Hakim says as they stop the camels so we can take a longer look.

  “Shukran,” I say to him. “Are you crazy?” I say to Deanna.

  “Beautiful, no?” George asks Deanna.

  “Very,” Deanna says to him. To me she says, “Don’t call me crazy!”

  “Why would I be jealous?”

  “Maybe you like him,” Deanna says.

  “Well, I did see him first.” Why did I just say that? Hassan is cute and all, but I can’t imagine my first kiss being with him.

  “Oh my God.” Deanna puts her hand over her mouth. “You’re right.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “We go?” Hakim asks.

  “One minute, please,” I tell him. “Deanna, are you okay?”

  “You saw him first. You saw Hassan in the kitchen. You had first dibs. And I didn’t even ask you if you liked him. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” Deanna’s starting to sound like I did in the pyramid.

  “It’s okay,” I s
ay.

  “It’s not okay. I’m your best friend, and best friends don’t…” Her voice cracks as her eyes tear up.

  I want to reach out to her, but I’m afraid I’ll fall off the camel.

  “Deanna, please. It’s fine. I don’t know why that even came out of my mouth. Maybe I am jealous. But not because I like Hassan. It’s just you’re so into each other and…”

  “What do you mean ‘but not because I like Hassan’? What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing…”

  “Then why don’t you want him for yourself?”

  “He’s cute—okay, gorgeous—but he’s into you.”

  “He put his hand on your knee.”

  She doesn’t miss a thing. “That was probably an accident.”

  “You sure you don’t like-like him? Maybe he’s not your type, but I’m sure he has a friend.”

  “Deanna, I don’t want Hassan’s friend.”

  “See? You do want Hassan.”

  “No, I don’t want Hassan. I mean, okay, he’s cute and not sleazy—”

  “Sleazy?”

  “You remember what Baba said about Egyptian guys? How they just want one thing from American girls?”

  “Of course he said that. He’s your father. If you were going to Italy, he’d say it about Italian guys.”

  “I wish sometimes he wouldn’t say anything.”

  “He cares about you.” Deanna pets the side of her camel. “That must be kind of nice.”

  “Having a father who doesn’t trust you?”

  “Having a dad,” she says, looking me straight in the eyes. I feel awful.

  “But how many kids can say their mom wanted them so much she went and had them on her own? Most people just have kids. Your mother really wanted you,” I say.

  “Still, not having a dad can really suck sometimes.”

  “Do you know anything about your dad?” I’ve never asked her about him before. We’ve hung out every day since last summer, but I assumed since she never talked about it that she really didn’t want to.

  “We don’t call him that. He’s just the sperm donor,” Deanna says. “My mom said she picked him because his eye color, hair color, those sorts of things, matched hers. She wanted me to look as much like her and her family as possible. Except for this”—she points to her face—“I do look a lot like my mom.”