No matter how much she breathed in and out, it seemed to Laila that she couldn't fill her lungs with enough air.
On the way to Karteh Seh, Zalmai bounced in Rasheed's arms, and Aziza held Mariam's hand as she walked quickly beside her.
The wind blew the dirty scarf tied under Aziza's chin and rippled the hem of her dress.
Aziza was more grim now, as though she'd begun to sense, with each step, that she was being duped.
Laila had not found the strength to tell Aziza the truth.
She had told her that she was going to a school, a special school where the children ate and slept and didn't come home after class.
Now Aziza kept pelting Laila with the same questions she had been asking for days.
Did the students sleep in different rooms or all in one great big room? Would she make friends?
Was she, Laila, sure that the teachers would be nice? And, more than once, “How long do I have to stay?”
They stopped two blocks from the squat, barracks style building. “Zalmai and I will wait here,” Rasheed said.
“Oh, before I forget...” He fished a stick of gum from his pocket, a parting gift, and held it out to Aziza with a stiff, magnanimous air.
Aziza took it and muttered a thank you. Laila marveled at Aziza's grace, Aziza's vast capacity for forgiveness, and her eyes filled.
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