Chapter Seventeen
There have been more massive demonstrations to protest how slowly things are changing. The Army did fine Hosni Mubarak $34 million dollars for “shutting off communications.” That shows what happens when you get telecom companies mad at you. Far more serious for us is that the Government eased the blockade of Gaza’s Rafah border, allowing most people to go freely although men aged eighteen to forty still need permits. Mubarak kept that border closed for three years. Israel protested the opening, but it did no good. Unfortunately that means that it will be easier for terrorists to move freely. I’m betting Egypt will be an Islamic Republic run by the dominant Muslim Brotherhood party within one year. That spells trouble for Israel.
—From the Secret Diary of David Hargrove
School seemed so dull for me compared to all the interesting stuff now cluttering up my brain. I felt like I’d lived a hundred years already. I broke out of my thoughts when I realized Mister Aziz had asked me a question.
I replied slowly and clearly, using the classical Arabic accent that had existed for thousands of years. When I finished, I sat down and watched my teacher’s face.
He seemed confused. He started to say something and then stopped. Finally, he nodded in my direction and turned to ask a question to another student.
I discovered I knew a number of ancient languages, including some that hadn’t been spoken for thousands of years. My accent was flawless, so Mister Aziz reluctantly began handing me ‘B’s’ on my tests. I accepted them with good grace. I then would turn and wink at Taylor, and she would wink back.
It took weeks after the press conference for things to settle down at school. Several non-Western students had surrounded me one day and accused me of making up the story just to make me seem more important.
I looked directly at Neguib. “Did I make up the story? Do you want me to show everyone that it’s real?”
Neguib shook his head and walked away without saying a word. His lack of fight shocked his friends who saw the fear in his eyes and decided to back off.
My life changed markedly at school. I no longer ate alone or at a small table with Aasuma. Taylor had insisted that I join her, and I had insisted that they include Aasuma. Taylor had shrugged and agreed.
Tiffany had objected.
“We don’t have to eat lunch with them,” she said pointing at Aasuma and fully expecting Taylor to come to her defense.
Taylor stood her ground.
“If you want to say something nasty about Olivia or her friend, it’s like you saying it to me.”
Tiffany had stared at her friend for a couple of minutes before backing off.
Taylor had never lost her popularity, so most of her friends quickly accepted Aasuma and me rather than be cast out of Taylor’s group. Of course they gossiped among themselves. Why would someone like Taylor even want to be friends with someone like me who had no friends, no money, and looked like I did?
What particularly bothered many of Taylor’s old girlfriends was that she and I often would turn to each other and begin talking and whispering. We would continue for several minutes, ignoring those around them as if we lived in our own unique world.
So much had changed. My reunion with Aasuma had been surreal. We hugged. She felt terribly guilty because she had obeyed Abdul and not told her parents about his weapon. Caught up in the demonstration, the army detained him. By the time the Muslim Brotherhood won the election, Abdul’s face revealed the damage he had suffered. Meanwhile, Aasuma’s family had been devastated because now it would be more difficult for them to find a suitable bride. They talked openly about finding a match for Aasuma. The girl prayed it would take them years.
Taylor and I were not terribly surprised that the Army released Neguib even though the other ‘Lions of Islam’ were still in jail awaiting trial. Apparently, his father pulled a number of strings by using his diplomatic status.
Neguib hadn’t learned anything from his ordeal. The Revolution of January 25th filled him with fervor. He still joined his comrades in marches to force the Army to cede power. His current dream was for an Islamic empire to cover the entire Middle East—a goal his father also shared. Still, Neguib avoided me. He would find excuses to walk away whenever I approached him. He confided to one friend that he still had nightmares in which he saw me blow a hole through one of his friends. He feared if he said something that offended me, I might respond and inflict such damage that even his father would not be able to fix the situation.
* * * *
One day Aasuma and I were studying together in the library. She noticed that I was fingering my gemstone absentmindedly while concentrating on the novel I was reading.
“It doesn’t glow as brightly as before,” Aasuma said.
I looked up and nodded. “Nothing is the same as before.”
Dad promised me that when the time was right, he would return the real necklace from the secret safe deposit box where it now lay. He found this substitute in a museum store. He feared that people who saw the film showing me destroying the wall would notice just how brightly my gemstone was glowing and make the connection that part of my power came from that jewel.
Aasuma and I discussed the upcoming dance. It seemed like a year since we had first shopped for my dress. We had made a second shopping trip a couple of weeks ago. I felt so much older and more mature now. Paul had asked me to go as his date and I accepted.
I now thought of Mister Hargrove as an old friend. He confided to me that his country was furious at me, but he was very proud of me for what I did. He told his wife it was a brilliant solution. Now, his only concern was that Paul and I would have a wonderful time at the dance. As a little present, he arranged for a limo and dinner for the four of us. Taylor and I were double dating. Her date was a couple of years older, but that was only to be expected. That girl always preferred older boys.
When I went to bed, images and sacred texts from the Hall of Records flooded my mind. I searched for ancient wisdom that would help me with practical things like getting through high school. The thousands of volumes provided insight on almost everything else. They were curiously silent when it came to the everyday problems of a teenage girl. They had all kinds of arcane advice, but had nothing to say about how to talk to boys or deal with my emotions that rose and fell seemingly without any control on my part. I decided I’d have to rely on Aasuma and Taylor to help me get through the next few years.
