Rebels by Accident by Patricia Dunn Read Free Book Online

hero.
    â€œLook.” Deanna nudges me. “Pink shoes.”
    Oh my God. It’s the cotton candy lipstick lady.
    â€œWhat’s on the other side of that door?” Deanna asks Ahmed.
    â€œAlways wanting answers. You know, you should be careful what you ask.”
    Deanna glares at Ahmed. She’s not going to let it go.
    â€œAn interrogation room,” Ahmed says.
    â€œWhat did he do wrong?” I ask.
    â€œMaybe he’s one of those bloggers who criticized Mubarak,” Ahmed says.
    â€œIt’s illegal to blog here?” I say. This country is worse than I imagined.
    â€œOnly if you say something the government doesn’t like.”
    â€œI read about this,” Deanna says. “Most of the bloggers are older, like in their early twenties—”
    â€œThat’s young to some of us,” Ahmed says, and smiles.
    â€œWhatever you say.” Deanna flips her hand at Ahmed. To me, she says, “All they did was write about the rich people who live so well while others are starving in bread lines in this country. It was so depressing.”
    â€œYes, it’s very depressing,” Ahmed says. “But starvation is not the problem in this country. We are not respected by this government. Mubarak—over thirty years he’s been in power, and he kicks us like dogs.”
    â€œWhy do people keep voting for him?” I ask.
    â€œMar.” Deanna rolls her eyes. “You can’t be that naïve. It’s all fixed. The elections here aren’t real.”
    â€œBut that man they arrested looks too old to be a blogger,” I comment, just to say something. I’m embarrassed that I really don’t know anything about Egypt’s government.
    â€œOlder people can’t blog?” Ahmed says.
    â€œI just mean…” I stop myself. I don’t know what I mean. I guess I just can’t believe someone would be arrested or stopped from visiting a country or returning to his country because of a blog post. Ahmed glances at another soldier. “That man may not have written anything, but maybe his cousin who he hasn’t spoken to in years did. Or maybe he doesn’t know why they are giving him this hard time, and maybe he will never know. All I do know is that man will be in that room a lot longer than we will be in this line, unless he’s able to put more than a few dollars in those soldiers’ pockets or throw around a few big-shot names of people he knows. But if he could do that, he probably wouldn’t have been pulled aside in the first place. This is what it’s like here. Harassment. Always harassment.”
    â€œBut the woman and the boy—are they going to be sent to jail too? They didn’t do anything.”
    â€œThe officials probably thought it would be easier to let her in than to have her scream out here. You don’t want to upset the tourists. They probably would’ve arrested her and the woman in the burka if they were men.”
    â€œ Burka ? ” I say.
    â€œThe one all covered up.”
    â€œWeren’t there women bloggers who were arrested too?” Deanna asks.
    â€œTrue,” Ahmed says.
    â€œDeanna, we have to call your mother. She’s a lawyer. She’ll know how to help these people,” I say.
    â€œMy dear girl, that is very sweet, but American lawyers are not what those people need right now. Prayers are what they need,” Ahmed tells me. I know if my face is showing how I feel, he can see how freaked out I am. “Look, don’t worry. In a few hours, insh’allah , they will probably let them go. Like I said, it’s just harassment. People are used to that sort of thing here.”
    â€œHow can they take it?” Deanna asks.
    â€œSome protest—mostly on campuses—but security in Egypt is very good at containing dissent.”
    A soldier—the same guy Ahmed was just looking at—walks over to us. He stares at Deanna and