Rebels by Accident by Patricia Dunn Page B

panel, and instantly, the air smells much better. “ Shukran ,” he says.
    â€œDon’t mention it,” Deanna says.
    â€œShe’s a smart one,” Sittu says to me. I smile, but I have to admit there’s a part of me that wishes I were the smart one.
    Sittu leans over Deanna and points out her window to a large steel gate. “That’s Kiddie Land.”
    I bend my head, and I can see the lights of a Ferris wheel in the background. “Is it a place for little kids?”
    â€œIt has stuff for older kids too. The Rainforest Cafe is there,” Sittu says.
    â€œI love the Rainforest Cafe,” Deanna says. “I’ve been to two of them in the States.”
    â€œI’ve always wanted to go there,” I say.
    â€œWe shall go then,” Sittu says.
    â€œReally?”
    â€œWhy so surprised?”
    â€œI’m not surprised.” I’m shocked. Maybe Sittu is just acting nice in front of Salam, and when we get back to her place, she’ll be all lock-us-up-and-throw-away-the-key.
    â€œYour eyes are the size of dinner plates,” Sittu says.
    â€œSee, I told you,” Deanna says.
    â€œTold her what?” Sittu asks, turning to Deanna.
    â€œShe just thought—”
    â€œNothing,” I say through gritted teeth.
    â€œIf it’s nothing”—Sittu turns her head to me—“then it has to be something.”
    Great. Now she’s correcting my English too.
    â€œWell,” I say. “I just thought—well, Baba said…”
    â€œThat I ruled with an iron fist?”
    â€œActually, a metal fist.”
    â€œYour baba always did have trouble with American idioms.”
    â€œDid you live in the States? Your English is awesome,” Deanna says.
    â€œWhen I was a child, the British still occupied Egypt. My father, Mariam’s great- giddu , made us all learn how to speak ‘the language of the enemy,’ as he called it. This way, they can’t put you down to your face.”
    â€œBut how do you know American?” Deanna says.
    â€œAmerican?” Sittu asks. “Is this a new language?”
    â€œI mean you say things like an American…with an English accent.”
    â€œSatellite.” Sittu smiles. “I love those American sitcoms.”
    â€œYou have a television?” I say.
    â€œAgain, the dinner-plate eyes. What did Baba say about me now?”
    â€œThat you thought television destroyed the brain.”
    â€œThe young brain. But at my age, I say there’s not too much damage left to be done. Salam, some music.”
    Salam doesn’t respond. He’s looking down at his phone.
    â€œSalam?!” She taps him on the back. “What did I tell you about texting while you drive?”
    â€œIs that an iPhone?” Deanna bends her head into the front seat. “I really want one, but my mom doesn’t want to change phone companies.”
    â€œSorry, madam. But I was just looking at my Twitter feed. My cousin says there is a call for demonstrations—”
    â€œLike what’s happening in Tunisia?” Deanna slides forward even more. “That would be so cool.”
    â€œWhat’s happening in Tunisia?” I ask, regretting the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
    â€œYou don’t know what’s happening in Tunisia?” Sittu sounds as if I’d just told her I didn’t know who the president of the United States was.
    â€œMy parents don’t watch the news,” I tell her.
    â€œBecause your parents choose to be ignorant about the world, does that mean you have to be ignorant too?”
    I don’t know how to answer this, so I just look out my window.
    Sittu makes the same sucking sound with her tongue and teeth that Baba makes when he’s disappointed in me. Until the other night at the jail, I hadn’t heard that sound in a very long time. “There’s a revolution happening in Tunisia, Mariam. People