"I was trying to annoy you," she said.
He gave her a sidelong glance. "It worked."
But she thought his grimace softened. And she thought that maybe the sunburn on his
cheeks deepened momentarily.
Laila didn't mean to tell him. She'd, in fact, decided that telling him would be a very bad
idea. Someone would get hurt, because Tariq wouldn't be able to let it pass. But when they
were on the street later, heading down to the bus stop, she saw Khadim again, leaning
against a wall He was surrounded by his friends, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. He
grinned at her defiantly.
And so she told Tariq. The story spilled out of her mouth before she could stop it.
"He did what?"
She told him again.
He pointed to Khadim. "Him? He's the one? You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
Tariq clenched his teeth and muttered something to himself in Pashto that Laila didn't
catch. "You wait here," he said, in Farsi now.
"No, Tariq "
He was already crossing the street.
Khadim was the first to see him. His grin faded, and he pushed himself off the wall. He
unhooked his thumbs from the belt loops and made himself more upright, taking on a self
conscious air of menace. The others followed his gaze.
Laila wished she hadn't said anything. What if they banded together? How many of them
were there ten? eleven? twelve? What if they hurt him?
Then Tariq stopped a few feet from Khadim and his band. There was a moment of
consideration, Laila thought, maybe a change of heart, and, when he bent down, she
imagined he would pretend his shoelace had come undone and walk back to her. Then his
hands went to work, and she understood.
The others understood too when Tariq straightened up, standing on one leg. When he
began hopping toward Khadim, then charging him, his unstrapped leg raised high over his
shoulder like a sword.
The boys stepped aside in a hurry. They gave him a clear path to Khadim.
Then it was all dust and fists and kicks and yelps.