

Paradise Lost

By Urbi Roychowdhury

**ISBN:** 9781370653836

Copyright 2017 Urbi Roychowdhury

Smashwords Edition

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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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Chapter One

"So, excited?" I opened my eyes to see my mother beaming down at me.

"Of course," I laughed, "I spent the whole night packing. I couldn't get a wink sleep at all." My mother smiled.

"It makes me wonder what you do have in that big bag of yours." I opened my exploring bag and peered inside once again to check its belongings.

"See, I've got my binoculars, exploring hat, sunglasses, magnifying glass, history book..."

"History book?" my mother asked curiously. "Didn't you say that you had already finished your homework?"

"No! Not for that mum. I just want to make sure that I see everything that I have learnt about Egypt in class. Oh! Mrs. Rosie will be awfully pleased when she sees how much I have learnt from this trip."

"She sure will!" I hugged my bag and looked up to the sky dreamily as I couldn't help but imagine all the fun-filled days that were ahead of us.

"I am going to see the Sphinx, the Pyramids and..."

"What about the haunted King Tutankhamen's tomb?" my mother added.

"Oh! How could I forget that! That'll be the best part!"

"Your father tells me that we'll have a wonderful hotel. Do you know that it has its own private terrace?

"Really?" I gasped greedily, "This sure is going to be the best trip ever!"

"Stop here, please." Dad handed the taxi driver the money and took my hand and a suitcase in the other.

"Hurry up, now! We have only 2 hours left for the plane to leave!" I said anxiously.

"We know, darling. Calm down." My father said.

I looked around the busy airport as I watched other families just like us, hurrying along for their plane as we were in ours. I beamed warmly at the billboard and at the third line which read 'Cairo' which made my heart do a somersault in joy. It was so exciting to imagine that just the next morning they'd be standing in Cairo.

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Chapter Two

"Here is your dinner, sir." I looked up to see a young lady in a uniform of blue and white hand us three trays with a hearty smile.

"Thank you." My father replied, smiling back at her. "You know, junior explorer, this is the best part of any trip, the food."

My mother laughed.

"But dad, what kind of food do you find in Egypt?" I asked eagerly taking out my travel journal and scribbling down whatever came up my mind.

Both my parents smiled at me.

"Well, it is a tropical country, isn't it? Probably the usual: rice, pasta. Who knows? I'm not sure."

"But, dad! We have to be prepared!"

"Well, it's a good thing we have an expert with us to guide us along the way." My mother said fondly. "You shouldn't worry about anything, dear. Just enjoy the ride. We'll be landing before you know it. Get as much rest as you can. We will be awfully busy after we land."

I considered my mother's suggestion and looked out of the small window, looking out at the view. There was not much to see. Only clouds drifting with us. Soon the motion of the plane nearly dragged my eyelids down and leaned on my seat, to fall asleep.

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Chapter Three

"Wake up, honey, we've landed." I heard the quiet voice of my mothers who was pushing me gently to wake up. But there was no need to call me twice. I flung up from my seat, my eyelids wide open. Could it really be? I looked out of my window and yes, it was.

I ran out of the plane scurrying through the seats and down the stairs, not waiting for my parents as they huffed and puffed behind me, handing me my bag and dragging along the suitcases.

"Slow down, Sophie, slow down." My mother said, nearly out of breath as I slipped my arms into my bag.

"Oh, mum, I'm just too excited!"

"We know, honey," my father said, finally catching on to his breath. "Just stay with us and don't run off." I nodded and immediately took a paper out from my bag. I looked around the airport. It wasn't very different from our airport, back in London. There were people carrying their luggage, following a porter and other people coming out from other planes. But, somehow, it gave me a scent of excitement and accomplishment.

"Come, on." I said impatiently. "859BTN. we have to search faster. What if he goes away?"

"He won't. Don't worry," my father assured.

I stared at the line of large cars and started scanning them one by one. Finally, we reached a large blue car with a man standing beside it.

"Here it is! 859BTN. this is our car. Mum, dad, its here." My parents hurried along to the car.

"Mr. Abdelmalek?" the tall man nodded and my father shook his hand.

"I shall send you your bill when you are coming back." My father smiled.

"Sure. That would be great."

I squealed as I helped my mother lode our luggage in the car.

"See, Sophie, here is where the real adventure begins." My mother sat beside my father in the front seat as my father scanned the car steering wheel and smiled. I had the entire back seat to myself and made myself comfortable. Finally, we were off. The adventure had begun.

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Chapter Four

The view from the car window was beautiful. It was a peaceful, quiet part of the town with a beautiful view of the houses and the green fields along the beautiful Blue Nile River. I had my camera in my hands, as I clicked as many photos as I could. There was a regular calling out of "Look, dad! A camel! Have you ever seen such a beauty?" or "mum, don't you love this view. I drew the same scenery in art class. I have to show this picture to Mrs. Brown!"

"So," my mother began, "to get things clear, we are now going to our hotel, 'the Cairo Paradise'."

My father gave a sturdy nod.

"Oh, the name sounds like a magical fortress that shall make you rule into a magical land where animals talk and do not obey any humans and we are sent to make that right..."

My parents laughed.

"Oh," my mother smiled, "you and your imagination can go anywhere! Anyways, as I was saying, we are going to have breakfast from there. Where exactly are we having breakfast?"

"Oh, there is this place called 'Cairo specials'. It's a cuisine and less than a mile away from our hotel. You can get all kinds of food there, even Macaroni Pasta, your favourite Sophie!"

But suddenly, I wasn't listening anymore. I scrutinized my eyes to a sight outside the window. On the other side of the road stood a tall, large bus painted red and blue.

"Sophie! Are you listening? Sophie?" my mother snapped impatiently.

"Mum, is that a school bus? Why is it standing there?" I questioned curiously still staring at the bus.

"Sophie, please don't stare at it. I don't think it's nice to take pictures of people you don't know. Now, how many camels did you see?"

I said nothing and looked carefully as a tall man in a black uniform marched out of the bus. He was hardly visible, but I looked closely. I was too curious to look away as my mother had instructed me to. The man was holding a gun in his hands. Slowly, as he stretched and looked around, a long line of children followed him. Suddenly a terrible thought struck me.

"M...mum you don't think those are kidnappers do you, taking those poor children away. Could they have somehow hypnotized them with their magical powers to work with them for life?"

"Sophie, please!" my mother frowned and said, "How many times do I have to tell you to look away from them."

"But, mum!" I cried in protest.

"Please move away from this spot. It seems like Sophie just doesn't know where to draw the line. "My mother scolded, "By the way, why have we stopped?"

My father quickly hit the accelerator, but nothing whatsoever happened. Once again, he did so, but this time, more fiercely. He groaned.

"What's wrong, dad?" I asked anxiously clutching onto my camera.

"I'm afraid it won't start." I gasped.

"But then... what are we going to do?" I cried.

"Calm down, Sophie and get out of the car. Quickly, both of you!" My father instructed.

"But why, dad?" I asked in a quiet, frightened voice.

"Please, Sophie, do as your father tells you.

I did as I was told and stepped out of the car, nervously holding onto my exploring bag as tight as I could. My parents pushed the car to one side of the road as I tailed along with frightened footsteps. I looked around quietly. Suddenly, I gasped. The bus was right behind us. All the gunned men and children stared at us. The children really weren't in very good shape. Their pale faces and dark hair were blackened by ashes. There was barely anything left of their clothes which were also full of ashes and torn apart mainly. Each child carried a large sack which was as dirty as themselves and their clothes. All the children had glum faces and their faces were dim and gloomy.

"See mum," I whispered slowly, "the kidnappers!" instead of the worried face, I had expected, my mother smiled, coldly.

"Sophie, now don't be silly. That's just Egyptian police. I suppose you aren't used to them. So, you bought all that information for home, but nothing about what they wore." My mother teased but had stopped smiling.

"But... that doesn't seem right." I murmured silently, still not satisfied with my mother's conclusion. "Well then, who are those kids? They look terrible." My mother pursed her lips and did not answer. I looked at her impatiently.

"Please, don't call them terrible, Sophie. How would you feel if you were to be called terrible?"

"But who are they?" I asked. Instead of answering, my mother pursed her lips and looked away to my father who looked worried and confused.

"So, what's wrong?" my mother asked.

My father was now looking inside the car engine. I looked inside curiously to reveal a group of wires and boxes inside mainly of colour yellow, black and red.

"I'm not sure." It was now that I heard stomping heavy footsteps. I looked around to see one of the policemen walking to us. I held on to my mother's sleeve, holding onto my breath.

"Good morning, sir. Is anything the matter? We were just going to leave with our crew when we noticed you. I see you are somehow stuck, I am right?" the man's voice was soft and reliable, but I still decided not to get too close to him.

"Oh, well our car doesn't seem to be starting and I think we might be not getting it moving anytime soon." My father said with a sigh.

"Hmm... well, I can take a look then I am seeing what is wrong." The policeman fixed the gun to his belt, which finally allowed me to breathe in relief, and took my father's place in burying his head into the car engine and fiddling around with all the wires and boxes that sat peacefully inside it.

"Hmm, I don't think this girl won't be moving around for a while now."

"B...b...but, what will we do?"

"Shhh! Quiet, Sophie." I gave an irritated glance to my mother.

"Well, I'll just have to call Mr. Abdelmalek and tell him to take this car out in the morning.

"Well, I see you are in a jam. Why don't you come and stay in the camp until you get things sorted out? I and my friend Tarek can take you."

"That would be wonderful! Thank you! We really can't thank you enough. We don't know what we'd do if you weren't here." With a last smile, the tall man ran back to the bus and sent a few wild instructions to other men with identical uniforms.

"Mum, what did he mean by camp? What about staying in the famous 'Cairo paradise'?" I asked anxiously.

"Hush... Sophie, don't talk about that now. We'll talk about this later." I frowned.

"Come on, Sophie" my father hurried. "We shouldn't keep them waiting." I followed the line gloomily and looked inside the bus. It looked nothing like the luxurious tour bus dad had promised to give me a ride on but my hopes rose when I was allowed a seat beside the window. But that was before I realized how many children were present on the bus. It had surprised me how the bus didn't tilt over or break down because of the number of children on the bus. There must have been around fifty in it. I crossed my arms to my chest and growled. It was a perfect example of how paradise could turn in to hell. The girl beside me kept on leaning to my side and there were children in the back who were screaming every time they saw a bird (and believe me that was very often). I couldn't even complain to my parents because they had squeezed somewhere into the crowd.

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Chapter Five

"Nan kaba alijamie, get down everybody, in a line please." It occurred to me that nobody heard that last demand because at that moment every single child ran to the door and jostled their way out. I hurried to look out the window and noticed all the children fall on their knees, some on their backs and even on their faces, but immediately getting up and running as if like running for their lives.

"Come then, Aisha. Follow the others" my mother instructed who looked as relieved as I was about the children leaving.

"Why would we get down here? Do we walk from here to 'Cairo paradise'?" I asked nervously.

"Yes, about that, we have to talk. Me and your mother have talked things through and decided what would be the right thing to do." I gulped nervously and started to follow my parents when my eyes caught upon a young girl sitting on the seat behind the one opposite to me. She, unlike the others, had no intention whatsoever to leave and seemed to position herself in a way to hide herself from the others completely. She wore a knee-length purple dress which matched her black hijab, which was tied loosely around her head. She clutched onto her sack tightly.

"Won't you leave with the others?" I asked softly, making sure not to scare her. She did not respond. Instead, she held onto her sack even tighter and threw me a horrid glance

"Sophie, hurry up! The bus will leave soon!" I heard my father call.

"B...but won't she... um... get down?"

"Hmm?" Mr. Tarek asked.

"Um... there's this girl. She hasn't gotten off yet.

"We'll handle her don't worry. Mr. Tarek went in as I and ran out of the bus with a last look at the girl. The girl gave me a nasty look and a scowl.

I looked at her innocently and confused but I was removed by Tarek and reached my parents outside.

"Sophie, come here. We need to talk." I gulped and ran over to them and sat down on a hard-wooden bench. Finally, I looked up with all my courage.

"Now, Sophie," my father began, "I hope you realize that we are in a jam." I nodded. "I've called the center and there aren't any more cars available."

"B...but, then what will we do?"

"Well, instead of packing and going home, I thought we could see this as an advantage."

I smiled, "good. We could maybe hire the bus we came in." I mumbled.

My father shook his head gravely, "not exactly. You see, it's not every day that you get to experience staying in a refugee camp and I planned to make a report on it. Oh, john will be so proud when he sees what a good job I've got out of this trip."

"Staying? Refugee camp? Um... dad, is that a... another fancy hotel?"

"well, not exactly, honey." My mother added, "we were thinking of staying here."

"HERE!?" at that moment, I suddenly seemed to be in a trance, wishing I hadn't actually heard my mother's last declaration. I gulped.

"What exactly did you say, mum?" my parents stared at me, horror-struck.

"Well, you know, it's not that bad, Sophie. You haven't even given it a try, have you now?"

"B...but, that's impossible! Cairo paradise?"

"Now, now, Sophie, if dad can write the report, we might even go to a business dinner to "cathedra Ritz". Remember that place? Wasn't it wonderful? – the food, the people..."

"B...but..." I cried, "How can I impress Mrs. Rosie and Chelsea and Prairie now?"

My mother frowned. "Dear, you don't have to impress your friends. Just have a good time."

I wept, "B...but I won't have a good time, and I know it."

"Why don't you go ahead and take a look. How can you be so sure?"

I grumbled and mumbled a few offensive words and shook my head and turned my head in a growl.

"Come now, honey, there's no meaning to sit here and remain upset. You'll never feel any better." My mother said laying a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sure we'll have a great time. In fact, this is the best time you can visit the tent. You may even meet the others whom you will be sharing your room with."

"This is so unfair! I don't want to meet anybody. I won't to go to "Cairo paradise"" I sobbed.

"Just give the place a chance, Sophie. I know you'll feel better after a while."

With a last sob, I gave the grass another ferocious look even though it seemed absolutely innocent and stomped off, my poor bag jumping along with my heavy steps.

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Chapter Six

The camp was larger than it had seemed when the children had rushed off the bus. It consisted of rows of tents that extended far off into the horizon, as far as the eye could see. There were blue tents stretching in neat rows. I sighed. This would have to be my home for the rest two weeks. I shook my head in disappointment.

"So, you are the new girl?"

I turned around to see Tarek, who smiled at me

"Yes, it's me," I said in a dull voice, sharing none of his enthusiasm "excuse me, Tarek, do you know where I'm staying?" I'd really like to start unpacking my things"

"Hmm." Tarek said approvingly. "Your tent, you see is there," he said pointing over to possibly the fifth row. "12th tent, the one with the florescent, bright paintings on it."

I nodded and smiled again at him. The twelfth tent seemed to be the 1200th tent. I walked and walked until my feet could carry me no longer. Even though the camp looked quite well from a distance, as I walked towards it, closer, it seemed to have no difference with a pig stew. As I walked I looked nervously at the running children, bare foot. They all stared at me as if I were an intruder which made me even more uncomfortable. Men shouted to their young children who played and fought together absent minded. Wearing torn clothes didn't bother them. But where were all the women? Didn't they have mothers, wives, sisters, aunts? Suddenly me eye caught a bright coloured inscription. I suddenly realized that I had lost my count. I groaned. I couldn't start counting again from the beginning! Then I remembered Tarek's words. The tent did have drawings on it unlike the others. I took a deep breath and crawled in through the flap. I held my breath. If this wasn't my tent I'd have a lot to pay for it. Somehow I knew this tent belonged to a little girl. The tent was brown in the inside and it was pitch dark. Only some sunlight entered form the gaps of the tent flap. I opened the flap and the tent lit up. The ground covered a dusty white mattress covered with a blanket. On it, peacefully sat four large pillows at one end of the mattress. I bit back my tears in anger and disgust. I could never imagine sleeping, sitting or even standing on it. On the walls were drawings of pink and hearts to match a princess. I groaned. I was way too old for princesses. I imagined being surrounded by baby girls with silly pink dresses and playing with Barbie's.

I was told that in 'Cairo paradise', I'd have my own room. All my hopes of that ever happening faded. We already had our rooms. Bright gleeful days in 'Cairo paradise' showed no sign of occurring soon. I bit back my tears in anger and disgust. Finally, I bit back my vain a sat down on the mattress to open my bag and looked into it. But somehow, I didn't feel like unpacking because I still didn't believe that I would be staying here for the rest of my Christmas holidays. I knew I wouldn't stand one night there even if I tried. It was impossible even to...

"Amana!"

"Mama!"

"Amara!"

I gasped at the cries. I looked out of my tent and saw a young woman wearing a long green dress. She hugged a little girl about my age and another girl. She was the girl I had seen in the bus!

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Chapter Seven

I sulked back into my tent. The cries were nothing to do with my going to 'Cairo paradise'. I shook my head with disapproval and sighed. Suddenly I was interrupted in my quiet thought and looked up to see the young girl who was outside with her mother. I gasped and clung onto my bag tighter as if to somehow seek protection from it. Now that I had a closer look at her I scanned her from top to bottom. She appeared to be about my size or probably a little shorter. Her dark black hair was tied into two untidy pony tails on either side of her head. I recognized how her hair must have been ill-treated for the past few days. She wore an orange shirt and a short red skirt and white, dusty pants. Her clothes, too, were dirty and messy. The girl stared at me for a while and said nothing. We stood motionless for a while until she finally gave up on me and left with a frown on her face.

I gave a sigh of relief. There was no use in trying get along here. There would be no space for an intruder like me in here.

Suddenly I gasped. The flap had opened again as I felt the air enter inside my dark dungeon I smelt the familiar smell of lavender perfume. But this time it wasn't the young girl again. It was a sight that bought both anger and relief to me. My mother had changed into her coral outfit which was a flowery long dress with matching red bangles.

"So," she said, laying a warm hand on my shoulder, "did you finish packing?"

I answered her question with an arrogant grunt as I zipped my bag up and turned away from it.

"Hmm..." my mother said, looking down at me through her disapproving eyes.

"Now, if you ask me, I think it's just silly to sit and mope about something you know is going to happen." I rolled my eyes at her, paying no attention to her effort on me.

"Look honey, every cloud has a silver lining. You always used to tell me and your dad that. Why is it going to change now?" she said sweetly.

"Because..." I grumbled, "This cloud is a black one. It's not white. So is my situation here. We have no point of staying here! Then why don't we go back home?"

"Honey," my mother said sternly, "dad really wants to take this opportunity. It's not every day he gets to go to a Syrian refugee camp. In fact, he wants to know about the lives of these people and their experience of struggles so badly, that he has already started interviewing the man next to him." My mother laughed. But the laughter soon died down when she noticed my expression.

"Dad really wants to take this opportunity. The best we can do is try to show him how well we can cooperate. Don't you think?"

"I just think this place is rotten!" my mother sighed.

"Where is dad anyway?"

"He moved into the camp a few miles away. He really wants to get into Syrian culture."

I couldn't help but smile. "Mum, what's a refugee camp? And why do you go on saying Syrian? It's Egypt, not Syria."

My mother pursed her lips.

"Well?" I asked curiously.

"Now, now," my mother said taking my hands in hers, "why don't we just put all this aside and relax ourselves. While I was packing, I was just thinking how we didn't even have breakfast this morning, so why don't we go ahead, shall we?" the thought of breakfast reminded me of 'Cairo specials'.

I grumbled at the thought and fixed my face back into the sour expression. My mother, seeing a close storm approaching, quickly took my hand and declared that we go off for breakfast. I had nothing to do but obey as my mother nearly pulled me along. Finally, I loosened my mother's grip and caught my breath.

"Where are we going? I should take my backpack if we're going to 'Cairo cuisine'. I need to list down the food I eat. I could write it on napkins, but I need a pen. And..." I rushed in excitement.

"Oh, no, dear" my mother assured, "we will be having breakfast, lunch and dinner with the other children here, Mr. Tarek was kind enough to tell the cook to make three extra meals for us. Isn't that nice of them?" I nodded mechanically. "I'm sure you'll remember what we eat. Anyways, you might as well bring the notepad tomorrow. We'll be having the same meals." I gulped

"The same meals? What exactly do the people here understand by the word 'meals'?" Suddenly, as we hurried along the aisle, my mother stopped in a sudden halt. I gasped.

"Why have we stopped?" I asked

"Oh, honey," my mother said gazing out above the tents, "just stand here for a moment. I'll just go find your dad. He was here just a minute ago..." with that I held my breath as my mother drifted away. I tried to reach out for her as she vanished into the tents. I gulped and looked in front to see much of what I'd seen on my way. The long fields and children running by...

But that was not what I was about to see. I gasped and goggled at the sight I saw. Before me, stood a tall, narrow line of people. Some aged 5, some even as old as 70. I bit back an outburst of whelps as I felt a hard pinch! I sprang around to see a tall girl in a dusty pink shirt and blue skirt and blue pants. Her musty hair was pulled back in an untidy ponytail. She poked me and pointed at a table full of bowls in piles.

"Altutaharuk bsre!" she managed to spit out. I had no idea what that meant but I wasn't very keen on knowing either. I almost did burst out then. But quickly, I snatched a bowl and ran to join a young boy. I let myself fall into his tall shadow and looked around desperately for my mother or father or anyone who could comfort me right then at that state. I finally gave up and gazed at my empty bowl. This was another disaster I had to face at my arriving here. Once upon a time, the bowl must have been white and shiny. But that was a long long time ago. Because now it was completely blackened with not a single inch left white.

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Chapter Eight

The next time I was attentive enough to follow the little boy. I lifted myself on my tiptoes and gazed above. I was hungry and my tummy grumbled. Finally, the boy in front of my moved aside, giving me a full view of a tall lady in a dusty white apron. In front of her stood a table with a large pot and box on it. She lowered her large spoon into the pot and when she took it out I feared what I'd see.

I had experienced bad lunch days. Mrs. Smith in the cafeteria offered many of the kind. But this lady I saw before me offered a thick brown liquid into my bowl. With that she handed me a tiny loaf of bread. I quickly moved away from the line, having no intention of being poked once again.

Broth and stale bread! I groaned. How could this get any worse? Suddenly, I felt a heavy hard hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see my father with a bowl of broth and bread just like me. My mother carried the same. My face brightened at the sight of them. At least I'd be able to enjoy my little time with them that they had to spare.

"So, where do we sit?" I said gleefully.

"Good to see you back to your normal self." My mother noticed

"Come Sophie, I was planning to sit just here, and talk to these people as I ate about their experience of food here." my father said. My father moved forward and sat down on a large dusty mat with the other children and women and men. My mother followed his example and, with no hesitation sat down beside him. I twitched my nose in surprise.

"Here, Sophie, we kept a place for you."

This time there was no holding back any tears. I burst out. Hot angry tears burned my cheeks as I gave no effort to rub them off.

"What's wrong dear?" my mother asked with a worried glance at my father who was still engaged in his interview.

"I won't sit on that dirty pig stew even if you paid me to! How can you stand all of this?"

My father looked at me sternly, "Sophie, if you don't sit here, you'll just have to stand and eat."

"What? "I nearly yelled, "I can't even eat properly in this rotten place?"

"Sophie," my father said now, more gently. He got up and placed a stern hand on my shoulder and pulled my down but that didn't work. I always got stronger when I got angry. It certainly proved I was angry. For, I was surprised at my strength. I stood as still as a brick wall, my face as red as fire.

"What's wrong, Sophie?" my mother said, confused, "I really don't know what's gotten into you!"

"I... if I have to either s... sit on that garbage dump, oo... or stand, I www... on't eat at all!" I sobbed. I slammed my bowl and bread on the rug and trudged away.

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Chapter Nine

There were not many people in the camp in the afternoon, so I spent the rest of my time crouched in the dark, damp corner of my tent. Often my mother came to comfort me while my anger melted into sadness. Nothing could make me feel better. I had had enough of Egypt and the sphinx and the pyramid of Giza! I was ready to step into the snowy balcony and rooms of my own home, back in Yorkshire. Finally, I was forced to eat some rice we had packed from the airport. Even though it was boiled just the way I liked it, it turned my mind even sourer and I refused to have any more.

The day seemed to never end. I spent much of the afternoon and morning alone with the camps nearly empty. Finally, in the evening I watched much of the children and women and men coming back and getting into their camps as camps tents lit up in rows. Even though the sight was a pretty one, I hadn't the heart to appreciate it. I gasped and turned away as the girl in red and orange came in with her hooded sister and her mother. They tucked in to the blanket and it wasn't long until I found them snoring. My mother came late which made me grumble even more. "You should have seen your father's face at the end of the day" my mother laughed, "Oh, he's already finished one page of scribbles." I only mumbled a few words and stayed silent. Finally, my mother gave up and slipped into the dusty mattress and soon fell asleep.

But that was a long way for me. I heard the water from the clouds drip on our tent with the noise that reminded of my hometown. I spent most of my time watching the faint light blaming out of the tiny torch. I shivered as the dusty blanket seemed to turn to ice. I must have slept, though for I remember to have woken up from a bad dream. I dreamt of sunny days and home and pasta and clean beds. I dreamt of waking up with the flowery smell of the bed sheets and the air drifting into the open window, only waking up made it harder for me. Harder to remember that home was still a long way away. Two weeks would have to pass by before home would ever be in sight. I watched the hooded girl and her mother kiss the young girl goodbye and head off for a while to leave us alone. My mother too, headed off to join my father and help the young girl and her mother in 'getting water' – that was what she said. I gazed uncomfortably at the young girl who never took her glance off me. It was another day of bore and disgust.

My eyes were dreary and dull as all they saw was the little girl who gazed with awe at me. I glared at her but she didn't seem to notice and only looked more curious through her innocent brown eyes. I was relieved when we were interrupted by my mother, who swooped down at us and said,

"Honey, please come out and eat. You'll get sick if you don't! In fact, dad has already got three bowls and bread for us so you don't have to wait."

I got up and didn't hesitate. I was starving after a hungry day and the sound of broth sounded like heaven to me. But all my happiness melted when we bent round the corner. I suddenly remembered what horrible memory I had had of the place. But this time, my mother didn't wait for any excuses and rushed along around the corner. My father was standing there with three bowls with broth and bread in them.

"Come Sophie," my father said, "we were thinking of sitting in this nice shady spot on the grass. "I gulped and nodded. I sat beside my mother who handed me the black dirty bowl.

"Spoon"

"Spoon?" My father smiled, "you don't eat with a spoon here Sophie. See..." he demonstrated as he dipped his stale bread into the fizzling sizzled broth and munched on it. Then he sipped the broth and emptied it from the bowl.

I gulped. "Now," my father started to a couple who feasted on their meal, "about the food, now do you have any exceptions on a few occasions? How long have you been having this food? And how does it make you feel?" the couple answered as my father jotted down on a notebook.

"Do you want a page from your father's notebook to write down the names of the food?"

"No thank you," I sighed, "I'm not sure eating broth and bread is going to impress any of my friends or any of my teachers."

My mother sighed, "Now Sophie, eat up!"

I gulped and followed my mother's instructions. I munched on the bread only to find that I couldn't rip it off. I tried harder but failed. Instead my bread did a summersault in the air and fell on the mat.

"Oh, no! "I cried.

"Don't worry Sophie, why don't you have mine. I only took a bite."

"No thank you, "I sighed. I put my lips against the edge of the bowl and did my best not to scream in disgust. I tilted the bowl as I emptied the hot broth into my mouth. But it was too hot! The bowl fell from my hand and the broth fell on my dress and my hand. I yelped in pain as my mother put cold water from a bottle on my hand. I watched in horror as a red rash began to form on my hand. I cried and sobbed.

"Hmm..."my father examined. I think you better rest in your tent for a while before you do anything. I followed my father's lead gloomily. After he applied ointment on my burn, he left me alone.

"What is this place, dad! Why does anybody stay here anyway?" I asked gloomily as my father opened the flap, "is this some kind of gathering or holiday? Well if it is, I'm not really getting the life of the party."

My father didn't smile. Instead he looked grimmer than ever. "Unlike some kids, who are spoilt and have to get everything they want, these kids, here, have to leave so much just for the sake of survival. It is something we can all learn from."

"B...but what are they leaving behind..."

But my father had already left.

**********

Chapter Ten

I sighed, got up and dug into my bag. It looked the same from when I'd packed it up at home. I slowly unpacked my belongings and kept them on the mat. First my binoculars, magnifying glass, exploring hat, sunglasses, and...

I looked gloomily at my history book. I remembered how much I had boasted in class about going to Egypt and seeing the Sphinx and Giza. I remembered how Prairie didn't even believe me and just snorted – "that know-it-all" I thought. Then I remembered how Chelsea seemed so sad of what a good time I would be having and how she would be sitting absent – minded at home. Then I pictured Mrs. Rosie's face of how pleased she was about her top student learning so much from her trip. I felt a tinge of shame as I pictured the looks on Mrs. Rosie and all my classmates faces when I went home and told them about my 'paradise trip' not taking place at all. "I knew she was faking it from the beginning!" I captured Prairie and felt my fist tightening in anger. "Poor Sophie!" Chelsea would mock. But then my anger melted into sadness when I thought of how Mrs. Rosie would feel. "But Sophie, where's your travel album and your travel journal? The ones you promised to show me." I kept the history book aside and felt a tear role down my cheek. It was a cold, sad, silent one – none that showed much on the outside but more on the inside.

"His... tor... ry... book, history book!" I gasped. I looked beside me to see the little girl in red and orange.

"European edition," she read rubbing her finger against the word. "European edition? Europe?" she said, pointing at the word, "your home?"

I gulped nervously.

"Well, yes. I live in Yorkshire" I opened the map of Great Britain and pointed at the northern point of England.

"So you are not living in Syria?"

'Syria?' I wondered. 'Syrian refugee camp?" But the little girl looked as confused as I was.

"So you, do you live in Syria?" she nodded

"Aleppo." 'Aleppo?" I remembered to have learnt something, something Mrs. Rosie had told us about – the Syrian crisis...

**********

Chapter Eleven

The girl eyed me continuously; with the history book in her hands. Suddenly she took my left hand in hers and studied the burn.

"How did it happen?" she asked

"Oh, um... it's nothing really," I said quickly pulling my hand from her grip. She studied the ointment which had now melted off, leaving the burn a shade of pink.

"I know how to fix it! Come with me outside." I hesitated. I had been told not to go outside and to rest inside and I didn't exactly trust this girl, even with her playful innocent manner.

"A... alright," I said guiltily. She took my other hand and we rushed outside the tent. It was rather shocking how the whole camp seemed almost empty.

"Why is no one here at this time?" I asked

"Everyone stays in their tents at this time a day." It was evident why. The scorching sun burned my hair as if they were to catch fire any time this moment. We ran to a shady spot where a tall flowery tree bloomed with several pink and red flowers.

"Sit," she said as I obeyed. The ground was dusty but cold and that was a great relief for both of us. She then tore a leaf from the tallest tree. She sat down beside me and pointed at my injured hand, which I placed on her lap. As she tore the leaf in half, a bluish liquid came out of it. As she let the liquid flow into my burn I yelped in disgust, "that's simply disgusting! It's slimy and yucky! And it hurts!"

but that wasn't for long because soon the burn got cooler and started to feel better.

"Better?" she asked as I nodded gleefully.

"Niroz taught me."

"Niroz?" I asked. Now that my burn was cured, I felt much more comfortable around the girl. She nodded. We always used to get hurt in the fields while playing. So, when we didn't want anyone to know about it, we cured it as easily as that!" I smiled. The young girl had a funny way of speaking as she used to wince her eye every time she blinked. The sun was getting brighter and the young girl suggested we go in.

"Amana told me not to stay out in the heat for too long. She said it could burn my skin." I looked at her pale skin and wondered that she'd probably look a bit better if it were tanned.

"Who exactly is Amana? Niroz?" I asked as the girl as she shut the flap of the tent.

"My sister," she answered, "Amana, Ahmed and Amara. Mama and papa are Acela and Aurangzeb. Everyone used to call us the 'a' family." I smiled.

"Aurangzeb? - as in the brave Mughal ruler, Aurangzeb?"

Amara laughed, "My grandparents had a love for Indian history, so did my father. Papa even said that he was about to call me 'Lokhibai' after the great rani of Jhansi."

"I love history too! It's my favourite subject! How 'bout you?"

"I'm not sure. I think I probably like science – that's what Amana likes."

"Amana? So, you are... Amara?" she nodded again.

"And you are Sophie?" she asked.

"Oh, uh... yes. How'd you know?" I looked at her for a while

"Oh, you generally get to know if someone new has come you get to know."

"Do new people always come here?"

"Every day"

"why?"

She shrugged.

I sighed and continued as Amara seemed to be growing uncomfortable.

"So," I continued, "your brother is Ahmed?"

"Yes"

"But I've never seen him before. Does he sleep in another tent?" Amara shrugged.

"I don't know why papa and Ahmed never joined us here! They'll probably come a few days later of probably not at all. Anyways, papa is always busy and he keeps on telling Ahmed that someday he will have to take papa's job and always tells him to pay attention to his lectures. Amana said they went to a job tour."

I looked at her confused. Suddenly everything seemed confusing and blur in my mind. So, what did it all mean? This young girl didn't seem to be revealing many answers.

"Oh I see.' I said. But both I and the girl understood that I didn't see anything at all.

"You know, we can go out in the evening and meet my friends- Niroz and Sandra and Yaman and..."

"Alright," I interrupted. Suddenly I had got excited. Did this mean I would finally get along to the ways of this camp! Maybe that meant that I could impress Mrs. Rosie and Prairie and Chelsea. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad after all. Amara seemed to see the excitement growing in me and smiled as I smiled back.

**********

Chapter Twelve

Evening seemed to never come, but soon as we sat motionless and still, the trees outside began to grow darker and so did the fields. The sky which had once been yellow and pale, lit by the sun, began to get darker to a dark shade of blue. We hurried outside into the darkness. Of course it wasn't all darkness for lamps were soon lit up with lanterns and children rushed about with women running with them as men took relief from their toiling in the sun.

"What about your mother and sister?" I asked her curiously as I panted to keep up with her. "Do they stay in another tent in the daytime?"

"Hmmm?" she asked getting slower and looking behind at me.

"The afternoon – the mornings," I emphasized, impatiently, "they weren't in the tent."

"Well we can't die in thirst can we!" she laughed and halted suddenly. I looked at her, confused, not getting any hint of humour in her words. Instead, I gazed around. We had reached the very end of the camp where I noticed the spiked fence surrounding our left. It had seemed so far away at first. But now, we seemed to reach the place in no time at all. I gasped for breath.

"So?" I said as Amara lifted herself on her tiptoes to tear a beautiful pink flower and preen with it in her hair.

"So, what?" she giggled. I tapped my foot impatiently. I hadn't come all the way running to notice how pretty Amara looked with flowers in her hair.

"You know," I said with my hands on my hips, "you could at least try to..."

"Amara! Amara! Amaraaa!" I gasped and looked away to see a short girl running to us from father away from the fence. Two untidy braids blew after her. She was in brown and green truck overs which weren't any cleaner than that of Amara's. I looked at her, horrified and moved aside just in time for the girl to fall head over heels on the ground as I fell along with her.

"Ouch!" I cried, "That was rude and mean! That hurt! I won't speak to you again until you say 'sorry!'"

To my surprise, the two girls peeled in to laughter just after the young girl got back to her senses.

"That's what happens when you have more excitement than your body can hold!" Amara giggled

"You know, Amara, that's just mean!" the two girls stopped laughing and stared at my horrified face.

"Sadiq?" the young girl said to Amara with a disgusted grin.

"Hmm." Amara nodded, " iinaha qalilaan min alsharir mudalil ", she added with a whisper.

Niroz laughed. "don't you know that it's rude to whisper in public?," I cried

Niroz suddenly stopped laughing. She said suddenly in a harsh tone which made me shiver, "you're the girl who got the rash for crying out loud at breakfast."

I gulped and went red in embarrassment as the young girl exposed a satisfied grin.

"Don't worry," Amara said, helplessly, doing her best for me to get a good impression of Niroz, "happens all the time." I tried to smile but instead turned into a cold grin.

"I'm Niroz, Sophie. Don't worry," she added, "I heard your parents call you by it. Oh, and I thought you weren't speaking to me" I threw a cold glance at Niroz.

"Come on, Niroz, Sophie! Sandra and Yaman must be waiting!" Niroz hurried off back, faraway along the fence. Just before Amara got ready to make another dash, I caught her.

"Sandra? Yaman?" I asked anxiously.

'Don't worry. Yaman is harmless. And Sandra's always ready to help." That didn't bring me any sense of relief. Amara seemed completely satisfied with Niroz as well. I slouched along miserably after Amara.

**********

Chapter Thirteen

We stepped into a clearing which was empty with no camps or people anywhere. In the middle of the camp was Niroz with two others. A tall girl stood with a little boy about 8 years old who sulked behind the tall girl. As I got closer, I gulped. I recognized the tall girl quite well. She was the girl I'd seen the other day at the breakfast row on my first day. The one who had made me suffer a painful series of pokes. She looked pretty much the same, only dirtier. This made all my hopes sink farther into a pit of disappointment. She looked gravely at me.

"This is Sandra and Yaman." Amara introduced. But I gazed down at Niroz who had a bleeding knee but didn't seem to notice.

"What about the others?" Niroz asked, "Amara, couldn't you get Amana to come?"

"I told you!" Amara said, impatiently, "She has to get the water! She won't come even if she's free, though."

"Water?" I asked. But all I got as an answer was odd glances staring at me as if I was an alien who had just landed on earth with no knowledge of real life at all. I sulked back.

"So, Sophie," Sandra said quickly to cover up the odd glances and silence. "Are you from Aleppo too?"

"Yorkshire. It's a place in England, Europe. It's one of the northern continents. It's cold and..." I said.

"We know, know-it-all" Niroz said. I went red. Amara giggled but soon quieted down as she noticed my horrified glance.

"Anyways," she added quickly, "Yaman and Niroz are from..."

"Amara and I were already friends from Aleppo. Sandra and her brother are from Latakia." I looked oddly at Niroz. They all had this one thing in common. Syria. Was this place a camp for... maybe a school trip- no, no, no schools can't be this big. Maybe it's a society holiday. Whatever it was, it was strange and these children obviously are unruly and seem to be used to this kind of disturbing life. How long are they here anyways? As all of these thoughts buzzed in my mind, Amara looked at me oddly.

"Hey, Amara," Niroz said, interrupting my thoughts wildly, "haven't you shown Ms. Bossy boots around yet?"

"My name is Sophie R. smiths, thank you very much!"

"What does the 'r' stand for, eh? Rotten?"

I heard giggles from the other two girls.

"Sophie Renay Smiths."

"Are you sure? It sounds more like spoilt rotten spoilt." I opened my mouth to argue once again but Amara cut in.

"It is quite a large place. I'll show her in the morning." Amara said quickly. I glared at all three of the girls. They treated me like a joker there just to entertain them! At home, I'd always be treated with dignity!

"The morning?" Sandra sighed. "But I won't be there. Mama doesn't like Yaman and me to stay outside in the morning for very long."

"Don't worry," Niroz comforted, "I'll come and stay with you if it makes you feel better." Sandra nodded warmly at her.

"It's a shame the evening comes and goes so quickly. Come faster tomorrow, will you?" Sandra added.

**********

Chapter Fourteen

As the sky turned darker blue to black, Amara and I hurried to our own tent. The fluorescent graffiti on the tent wall glowed on the dark as we entered, closing the flap behind us. But, we weren't alone. Amana was already in the camp. She gasped as I came in.

"I never got to appreciate the beautiful drawings on the walls."

Amara beamed warmly. "Niroz and I did it. She pointed at the scribbles on a corner. "See, that's my name. It's in Arabic." Amara got up on one knee and traced it exactly the way it was. "a-ma-ra and ni-roz," she said dragging her hand on every letter. She took a fluorescent marker from one of the sacks, leaning on the wall of the tent. She took it and drew what looked like an opposite c, a few u and w's and finally what looked like an l with a few dots on it. "a-yi-sha" she said as she wrote it. "Now there's your name too, see." I smiled.

"I don't think I'm ever going to learn to like Niroz."

Amara sighed, "Give her some time. You'll grow into her, believe me." I eyed her narrowly. She sure had some patience to practically live with a person like Niroz. But it was different with her. Amara wasn't an intruder who everyone was against.

"So," I began as Amara sat down beside me on her pillow, "you know both Arabic and English?"

"Uh huh." Amara nodded, "even French and Turkish actually."

"And this water thing, what do your sister and mother do in the mornings."

"You seem really confused. You haven't been here long, have you?"

I looked impatiently at her, "I only came here yesterday, you know!"

"oh alright," she said, finally, "Look, here we have to wait in line just like in breakfast and lunch to get water – in jugs."

I stared at her, disgusted, "there usually is a really big line if you don't go early, and so mama and Amana usually have to wait for a while. Anyways, they don't bring the water from the tanks before seven. So, no use going earlier and..."

"So you don't have a home..." I stopped midway and went red, "I'm sorry."

Amara smiled "don't worry. I wondered the same about everybody else when they came here too."

"So, do you?"

"Of course. I had a home on AbdelMazz Street. Our house was very beautiful and our garden was nearly as big as this camp. It was so nice and my room was in the east corner so I could get the cool breeze..."

"Amara! han waqt alnnawm." A sweet voice instructed. Amara's mother had just entered. She was still in the dress she had arrived in but it had turned a lot dirtier everyday as she crawled in her blanket.

"Come on, Sophie, Mama says we should go to bed now. Don't worry, I'll show you around in the morning. We can talk then."

"I'd better get into my pajamas." My mother had just arrived and was sweaty and tired.

"Here, honey." She said handing me a plastic, I took it and hurried out of the tent. Even though the sky had turned pitch black, it was lit by quite a few bright stars which supplemented the large lights arising from each tent.

**********

Chapter Fifteen

The toilets were not much of a sight to see. There were generally about a dozen people in line for the toilet as there was only one toilet per 7 tents. I stared miserably at the toilets. Finally, after what seemed like an hour I was in front of the toilet. I hopped inside in joy. But as I closed the door, I decided it was probably better to change in a dark part of the forest instead of the place I saw before me. God knew how the people of this toilet treated the area. It was obviously not cleaned for about a month for the ground had a mucky layer of something. I really had no interest in knowing exactly what it was. The toilet seat was worse with the same muddy layer on it. I quickly changed, making sure I didn't touch the ground. The walls were no cleaner. I quickly escaped form the toilet and the impatient crowd waiting outside.

I went back to my tent. Everyone was asleep. The first day I had left the beauty of the camp unnoticed, but now I had seen the camp in a different perspective. From far off, the camps looked like a flock of fireflies all in line. I quickly skittered back to my tent. Everyone else was asleep, except Amara.

"I...in the morning, I'll show you around," she yawned, her eyes half opened – half closed.

"You know Amara," I said, half to myself, "I don't think I'll ever like it here, I'm sorry, but it's true. Dirty tents, disgusting toilets, mucky food, water a wait away- I don't think I'll ever be able to adjust. But I've got so many questions and I'm so curious. I sometimes wonder how you can live here. That's the only reason I'm still alive in this horrible place. Because everybody around me doesn't feel the way I do about this place. I know it sounds selfish and mean. Sometimes I wonder if the reason I don't like this place is because I'm not letting myself like it and I just force myself to think it's bad no matter what. You and your friends like this place, I thought, but it's not that. You allow yourself to adjust, while I don't. I can't admit the disappointment. Were you disappointed when you got here? I just want to know how you feel happy here. How do you overcome the disappointment of staying in this horrible place!" but the only answer I got was a series of snores. I looked down to see Amara sleeping soft and sound, curled under her blanket. I sighed and did the same. But, somehow, no matter how hard I tried, I jolted awake again. There were just too many questions unanswered. This strange place was nothing more than hell for kids. But then why do kids stay here? And then again, the cut on Niroz's knee flashed through my mind and bought me a seer of pain. Even though Amara and the other kids say they have a home... somehow, they seem so unruly. Like barbarians. This all seemed so confusing and... and... and.......

**********

Chapter Sixteen

The sunlight hit my eyes and seeped through me like fire.

"Bye mama, bye Amana. Good luck." I jolted awake just in time to see Amana and her mother exit the tent, about a dozen pots in their arms. Amara looked back at me and smiled.

"Finally awake, sleeping beauty!" she giggled

"Huh?" I said, yawing and stretching.

"You slept nearly throughout the morning! It's nearly ten now. Breakfast is nearly over." Half of me was pleased it was about to be over and done with and the other half quivered in disappointment and starved in hunger.

"I was waiting for you to wake up as mama told me not to. Come on, we can still get the last few bowls. Your parents came to get you but I told them that we would be there soon." I looked at Amara gratefully as she took my hand and we rushed through the aisle of tents. Coming late seemed to be another perk, because the breakfast area was nearly empty and we didn't have to wait at all to get sizzling broth and stale bread in our bowls.

"Come on! "Amara instructed tugging on my sleeve, "Me and my friends generally take this shady spot on the grass. It's much nicer to sit here." I sat down beside her.

"you know, it's better to first blow on the soup a bit then test if it's hot with your lips first, then put it in your mouth. I tried to do so. I touched the sizzling soup to my lips. 'It's not that hot!' I thought and then emptied into my mouth.

"See," Amara said, beaming, "that does the trick! And try dipping the bread in your broth for a while to make it softer."

I gulped and followed her instructions, "you're right, it's much softer," I said smiling and munching on my bread.

**********

Chapter Seventeen

After breakfast was done, Amara and I rushed to our tent as I grabbed my camera and exploring hat.

"We'd better hurry!" Amara rushed "the sun will be scorching hot soon. Come, we'll take a shady lane by the fence. It will be cooler." I obeyed as she sent us to the fence once again. The morning went fast. As Amara and I walked by the fence, she showed me every single tent as we ran through the aisle. She showed me Yamaha and Mulsan and Argustan, her friends from Damascus and a few more form Homs. All of them made me just as disappointed as niroz had made me. They were in the same rags and the same attitude. They laughed whenever I commented on how they needed help or when they did something unusual.

She showed me the lunch-breakfast-dinner area and the water well which was followed by a rather long line of people who were half asleep but clutched on to their jugs.

By ten, I was panting and gasping for breath as Amara laughed.

"Come on, Sophie! We haven't even seen half of the camp!"

I panted, "Slow down, Amara! Maybe we should just rest for a while."

I sat down on the grass and got my breath back.

"oh, come on!" she mocked and jogged along the fence.

"Amara, wait!" I bellowed, "why not? Why can't we stay here? I'm too tired to go anywhere."

"The scary ghosts will get to you." Amara whispered "if you don't come."

"Scary ghosts? "I asked with a retorting chuckle. "Now who are they supposed to be?""

"let's go, please." She tugged on my arm but I held back.

Even though I continued laughing, Amara had a look of dead seriousness on her face.

"Well? "I asked my laughter dying down slowly

"they are..."

"Excuse me Tarek,"

I gasped. It was a deep voice which I'd heard before. I turned around and saw two identical tall men talking right in front of us. His black suit and his gun nearly made me scream. My fear slowly died down when I'd recognized the two men.

"I warned you." I heard Amara

"What do you mean?"

"Excuse me, Tarek, hal qult tubukh lajaeal almaraq balnsbt lana?"

Mormaz nodded.

Then, without another word, Amara raced away, tugging onto my arm and not letting go until she reached a shady spot far away from the log cabins.

I panted, crawled in and sat beside her

"Go easy, Amara!"

"I told you they'd come!" she warned

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the scary ghosts!"

I laughed, "I see. And these Syrian ghosts of yours, are they invisible?" I laughed.

"It's not funny, Sophie. Those people in those black uniforms with guns – those scary ghosts."

I stopped laughing and looked gravely at Amara.

"From when are walking talking people called ghosts?"

"They wear black – kind of like a black ghost like those in the "mughamarat maladh alqamar walttaj almasruq". Anyways, it doesn't matter what they look like. They're scary ghosts from the inside... and last night..."

"Like those in the what?"

"Hmmm?"

"The comparison you brought with Tarek and Mormaz." I emphasized impatiently

"Oh, the 'adventures of moon haven and the stolen crown', from the 'adventures of moon haven series?"

"Mr. Tarek and Mr. Mormaz?"I asked in horror, "you mean, them? The black ghosts?"

Amara sighed and looked solemnly at me as if she were a parent explaining her two-year-old about the cruel outside world

"They can't be that bad!"

"Sophie, mama always used to tell me 'never judge a book by its cover.' Don't judge people before you get to know them."

I looked into Amara's innocent eyes and decided to obey.

"But why? Why do you hate them?"

"Well they don't let us enjoy our holiday! Firstly, they bring too many children which is a mean thing to do. This place is already overcrowded! Secondly, they are always monitoring us like we're going to blow the place up any second..."

"Wait..." I gulped "you say holiday. But do you even know what holiday this is? I mean... hey, is it a Christmas holiday? But why are there so many people? It looks like they brought the whole country here! But where's the Christmas tree! You can't have Christmas without a Christmas tree, right?"

Amara shrugged."

"We don't have any other festivals in Syria, either. We have Eid, but that's in September, not now." Amara shook her head.

I looked at her, confused

"Maybe the mean scary old people took all the Christmas trees like the goddess Archena who stole Eid!" I gulped. I decided it was better not to know about this Syrian story of hers.

"That's one theory we know is not possible." I beamed.

"Why not? It seems reasonable!" Amara said in a hurt croaked voice. I sighed. I shook my head and decided the matter to fall.

"It's getting hotter here. We'd better get inside before we get roasted." Amara didn't smile and still looked as hurt as before. I ignored and lead the way back to camp. As we crawled in the camp, a cool breeze entered with us.

"I wonder why they don't have bath tubs in those toilets! In this weather, don't you take baths?" I asked fanning myself with my hat.

"Of course!" Amara laughed, "You actually believe we'd survive here without a bath or two! We don't have bathtubs. We generally bathe with the water we collect in jugs."

"That sure is hectic! I sometimes wonder why people live here, in this horrible place. I can't bear the look of it!" Amara nodded in agreement.

"By people," I snarled, "I mean you." Amara sighed

"For the last time, ask mama or Amana. I have nothing to do with staying here, really. It's all for this horrible holiday!"

"I don't understand why you're so into this idea of a holiday! It could be something else too, you know!" Amara looked confused.

"But this has to be a holiday!"

"And what makes you think that!"

"Because Amana told me so. And it's obviously a camping trip!"

"Camping?" I choked, "camping? You've put all of this as camping?"

"Well yeah. These large blue tents are just like the ones papa and Ahmed used to put up when we went up to the mountains on holidays." I sighed and my voice softened.

**********

Chapter Eighteen

We spent the rest of the time in silence. I was pretty sure Amara was just trying to rack her brains to find an answer in that dusty old thinking corner of hers. But I stared not thinking of anything at all. This whole camp was confusing and Amara was no help at all because she herself was confused and only brought more confusion in me. But what if I'd, stayed in Cairo paradise or just went back home straight away. Would I have had the same feelings that I was having now? Would I ever feel the same? For somewhere in that complex innocent mind of every person in this camp, I saw a tingle of fear. Fear that I'd neither seen in anyone or experienced myself. It was only strange. I had no way to understand it, either. All I had for answers was this small, playful little girl who didn't seem to understand matters any better than I did. Mum didn't seem any keen on sharing ideas about the topic either. And dad was just too busy. I looked back to Amara and into her big brown eyes as she stared back.

"Well, why don't we go outside? We can... I don't know... play or..." Amara mumbled helplessly.

"But nobody will be there. Sandra and Yaman will stay home and Niroz will be with them. What's the use? Even though I'd rather not be out without Niroz."

Amara laughed faintly. "It doesn't matter, does it? We'll go alone. Even though it is rather sunny and..."

"Uh... Amara, why don't you tell me more about yourself and Syria? We rarely could ever finish a conversation without an interruption." I could stand the boredom no more. I took out my special butterfly notebook with the matching pen.

"So, Amara..."

"Amara Lebanon. L – e – b – a – n – o – n."

"So, miss. Lebanon, would you please mention the location of your house. I mean the real one. Not this dirty pig stew."

Amara laughed, "So are you interviewing me, madam?" I nodded.

"Fine," I agreed, putting my notebook aside.

"Now, can you spill the beans? Your house. Your real house. The one in Syria. I really want to know what this whole Syria thing is about."

"Syria thing?"

"Oh, get on with it, will you?"

"Fine. I live in this big beautiful house. It was the largest one on our lane. Well, it had to be big. Not easy to fit 5 members in a cottage, is it?"

"5 members, eh?"

Amara nodded and continued. "It was just beautiful! Better than you could imagine," Amara said. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the thick mattress, dreamily.

"Now, downstairs there was the kitchen, the dining room, the sitting lounge, the... um... and the..."

"Sitting lounge?"

"It's just a sitting area. Wait! I'm not done yet! Now upstairs. In the left corner was my room with Amana. Oh, and Ahmed had his own room. I was so jealous of him. But our room was really big, but not empty, though. Amana loved decorating and photography, so, I really did nothing much to my room."

"Oh yeah," I snorted, "now, you barely get anything out of her. All she does is goes out in the morning and comes back with dozens of jugs."

"Don't say that," Amara said in a rather hurt voice. "She really doesn't have an option."

"Hmm" I agreed, "some vacation you are having here. Are all Syrian vacations like this?" Amara glared at me.

"Just because you don't know her, that doesn't mean she's what you think she is."

"What else can I judge her by?"

"I really don't know what happened to her after she came here. She's changed from that jolly, cheerful, talkative, bossy girl to a quiet, sad one."

"Talkative! Bossy!" I choked. "Oh yeah. Like that's even possible! It's like calling angel, a devil."

"No, it's true!" Amara fought

"Hmm. Proves just how bad and discouraging this place is! At least I've got someone who feels the same about this place." `

"You know, we don't think this place is some paradise either!"

"I know. But everybody here seems so cheerful and jolly. I mean, how you can manage even a grin in this horrible place!"

"Well maybe some kids are just spoilt and rotten. Maybe other kids aren't that spoilt and rotten. Maybe they can adjust with stuff and learn to let go of the best times and face worse. Some people aren't as lucky, Sophie. And some people aren't as spoilt and rotten as others."

I fell dead silent.

"Spoilt? Rotten? I am not spoilt rotten! Why does everybody keep telling me that? First dad, then you!"

"He said you were spoilt rotten?" Amara snorted disbelievingly.

"Indirectly, yes. Just like you did." I muttered through gritted teeth.

"I didn't say you were spoilt rotten. I said some people are."

"Oh yeah. Like that's convincing enough!"

I took Amara's place and slouched down into the pillow.

"We really have nothing to do here. It's like paradise turned into hell. And then again, I don't even understand this place. Dad didn't answer my question the way he was supposed to and I'm not keen on asking any of your friends. So, you're my only answer. And it appears that you don't have any answers at all!"

"Paradise to hell?"

"I meant my trip. I was supposed to have a vacation here. You get it? Exploration-views-travel-FUN! But that's all gone when our car broke down and we have to stay in this miserable place! All the fun is gone!"

"How can you be so sure? How do you know that there isn't a silver lining in this cloud?"

"My mother told me that on the first day we came here!" I fired, "you don't know how hard I've tried, Amara. But I still end up hating it!"

"Well, if you ask me, you haven't done the least bit of trying." I glared at Amara but she was looked as calm as ever and only glared back at me.

"Sophie, we have no choice! Anyways, it doesn't matter what the situation is. It matters on how you look at it. We look at it through a lens of hope while you see the same dusty, dirty horrible place."

"You don't know how hard it is to stay here. We had to leave so much! We had to leave an entire trip we had planned. A trip that would be paradise. We left that, Amara! We left paradise!"

Amara stopped. And in just a few seconds broke into peals of laughter. I stared at her in shock.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, Sophie," she said finally, wiping her tears, "I sometimes wonder, why you treat us like we're beggars on the street!" I went red in anger and frustration.

"What?"

"When we went out to play; when go to sleep; when we go to eat - always the same airy attitude!"

"Airy attitude?"

"Uh huh."

I went silent again.

"Well, at least I..."

My voice trailed away with the wind as the flap opened and a hot humid air entered. I looked at the flap and saw her again, dirtier than ever.

**********

Chapter Nineteen

Amana stared back at me and glared that silent graceful glare she had fixed to her face, instructed to show up whenever it set eyes on me. I tried to ignore it, but it caught my eye whenever I tried to look away. Her mother came in after her, huffing and puffing with one jug under each arm. Amana helped her put it on the tent floor.

"Thank you mama, Amana!"

Mrs. Lebanon smiled as she rubbed the sweat off her forehead. Amana did no such thing and only looked away.

"I... um... thanks." I said awkwardly. Mrs. Lebanon looked at me surprised as if I had just appeared out of thin air. She gave me a toothless smile.

"Ah," she said to Amara, "this is your new friend?"

Amara nodded. "this is my mother," Amara introduced.

I nodded and forced a smile. "Uh... nice to meet you." She said nothing and only left the tent.

We followed her out for lunch which we finished quickly. We ran back to our tent as we watched the sun recede gently as a faint darkness and cool breeze arose in the busy camp.

"Quickly! Quickly Sophie! They'll be waiting!" Amara rushed once evening fell. We ran out of the tent. Near the fence, stood three lonely figures who were chattering along and trying the make a tower with twigs and leaves. With their third failure, they welcomed us.

"What were you trying to do?" Amara asked curiously.

"A twig tower but then the wind kept coming in and then..."

"Hey, were you trying to it the way you do the card tower?"

"Yep."

"I know how to do that easily. In fact, once I did one so tall, I couldn't see the top unless I stood on the bed. It nearly touched the ceiling! It was so big that..."

"Then let's try it, shall we, know-it-all?" Niroz said impatiently.

"Alright." I agreed hastily and fell to my knees. I took the base and started with a triangular base with a flat top.

Niroz did too as Yaman collected twigs of proper sizes.

"Hey, you're really good at this!" I said, patting Niroz and Yaman on the shoulder. They smiled warmly. Finally, we finished the top where Sandra placed a cut out leaf in the shape of a star.

"Wow!" I gasped as I looked at the tower.

"Wait!" I took the bow ribbon off my dress which had been speared with broth, "won't need this anymore. It's already destroyed."

I put the bow on the top of the tower just behind the leaf.

"Hmm, I think that'll be good enough" Niroz and Amara stared at me as if I'd just popped out from nowhere.

"Well that's a noteworthy change." Sandra mumbled. I ignored their shocked glances and looked away at the camps.

"It really is a beautiful sight from here."

"Uh huh. Maybe you can take pictures on your camera to take home and..."

"Camera!" Sandra gasped, "Why didn't you tell us before?"

"Oh it's not a very big one, just a pocket size one. It's just a..."

"A 2.5 by 3 inch screen?" Amara supplied.

"Just a 2.5 by 3 inch screen. Not too big, so I just... how did you know it was a 2.5 by 3 inch screen?"

"Um... Yaman told me."

"Yaman! He told you? How?"

"Yep. He told me."

"But I never showed him my camera."

"He saw it on the first day when you had it in breakfast."

"B...but, he wasn't even beside me. How could he..."

"I don't know."

"Oh," I gulped and stared at the short boy who seemed to pay no attention to the conversation and took all his frustration in trying to make a stick stand for more than five seconds.

"Well then," Niroz said impatiently, "get the camera or just go home."

"Fine!" I breathed as I ran back to our tent and brought back my camera which was under my hat. I hurried back as the others waited for me.

"Here," I panted.

"Hmm," Sandra examined as she took the camera from me. "Hey you were right Yaman. Good job."

Yaman smiled dryly.

"Now what do you want to shoot?" Amara asked enthusiastically.

"Umm... I'm not sure. The view from here, I guess. I mean there really is nothing much to see from here."

"Hey, there are some beautiful views from the fence in the morning." Sandra piped. "We can always take the photos in the morning, you know."

"Who wants to wait so long?" Niroz stormed.

"Maybe I can take some other pictures now and the rest in the morning." I suggested.

"Um..."

"Oh Niroz, don't be so impatient!"

"Fine!" Niroz muttered, "If you say so."

"Ok," I said, taking deep breathes. "Now...uh, the place looks good from this angle, don't you think?" I said, going farther away from the spot and closer to the camps.

"Wow!" Sandra gasped, "You've got a great angle there! Did you learn photography anywhere?"

"No, not really," I admitted, "my dad taught me a few tricks, actually. Oh, and you should always make sure that the flash is focused on the main object. Wait a few seconds after you capture it until your hand is completely still, and then... click." A flash of light appeared from my camera as I quickly checked it.

"Let me see! Let me see!" Niroz piped.

"I will! I will! Stop getting so jumpy!" I scowled and handed her the camera.

"Nice!" The others gasped.

"I can make it look even better with the effects I can get here,"

"Why don't you take some more pictures?" Sandra suggested.

"Of us this time. So you can remember us." Amara added.

"Ok."

Then we started with the pictures. I, Amara and Sandra took most as she didn't like being in pictures and I was generally occupied in one.

"If you ask me, I think they're great." Amara praised as Sandra handed the camera to me and we scanned them together.

"SANDRA! YAMAN!" I gasped and turned back to see an old woman yelling from the nearest tent."

"Um... I'd better go. Come on Yaman" Sandra muttered irritated, taking her brother's hand.

"Bye Niroz. Bye Amara."

The three girls smiled at each other and I suddenly felt that left out feeling I'd felt from the moment I'd entered the camp. Somehow I didn't belong here and I knew it only too well.

Niroz somehow noticed my expression as I quickly looked away, hopping she hadn't noticed any change.

"Goodbye Sophie Renay Smiths! It's been a great day and I hope we'll be able to play again soon." Words are very powerful. Especially names. And that certain name Niroz had called me, for the first time, made me forget my loneliness and suddenly didn't make me feel left out anymore. Not bossy boots. Not know – it –all. But Sophie.

"Please," I said warmly, "call me Sophie."

"Fine, Ms. Bossy boots."

For the first time, I felt like I'd actually laughed.

I remembered how at school laughing would always be if someone were to be insulted. My longest laugh was when Prairie had tripped and dropped macaroni pasta all over her dress. The other time was when Chelsea had forgotten all her lines during the spring recital. I wondered how much I'd probably laughed if Niroz or Sandra would be insulted somehow guilt arose to me as I imagined how I'd have laughed. But Niroz's words made me rethink what I would have done.

"I'll drop by to get the jugs from you!" Niroz yelled as Sandra waved from her tent.

"So, I think I'd better get back too and get the jugs. Bye girls."

"Bye Niroz!" we piped as we saw her disappear into the sea of tents and people.

"Come on." I did as Amara told me and followed her to our own cozy camp and crawled in.

"What did she mean?" I asked as we got in.

"Hmm?"

"She said she'd get the jugs from Sandra's."

"Yeah, so?"

I heaved an irritating breath as Amara giggled.

"Oh, you're even worse than Niroz!" she expired. I ignored and continued.

"Why doesn't she get her own water? Why does she get it from Sandra's?" I asked, destined to get the answer.

"Oh," Amara started, "Niroz's mother wasn't able to come on the vacation and her uncle has a broken leg and heavy shoulders. There really is no one to get water. So, Sandra's ma and amma get extra water. Oh boy, are they nice! They were willing to take care of her uncle and adopt Niroz and take her mother's place. Some people are willing to do so much just to earn happiness for someone else."

I gulped, "wow." I whispered.

"Now hurry, will you!" Amara yelped suddenly, disturbing my thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Go to the bathroom and get dressed! Soon you'll find yourself asleep in the toilets, if you don't hurry."

I gasped at the horrible thought and rushed out with my pajamas. I took deep breathe before entering the bathroom before I finally entered, holding my breath until I finally gave in and learnt to live with the smell. When I came out, I suddenly found myself habituated with the smell and finally let myself breathe the fresh air. I walked back to the tent when suddenly I heard quiet voices. Voices I recognized. I looked up and saw Sandra carrying a few jugs with Niroz.

My worried glance curled up into a smile and took a deep breath.

"... horrible... Sophie... always..."

I stopped in my tracks. They were talking about me? And I actually made myself believe that they were my friends, that I wasn't left out! After all we'd gone through? That was it! Amara was wrong. I had tried! It wasn't me who wouldn't see this place through a lens of hope. It was this place who looked like that to me!

"That's right."

I suddenly got back to my senses with their voices and hid behind the nearest bush I could find.

"But what did Amara mean?" Sandra's voice echoed, "So you can remember us."

"Well, Amara told me that she was supposed to go to this paradise trip to see the sphinx and Giza and other view sights."

"That's strange. It's really strange that she's from Yorkshire too, don't you think?" Niroz nodded in agreement.

"Well, at least she's understood something." Niroz's voice echoed.

"And what might that be?"

"That to make someone come up to your level, you don't make them change. You have to make yourself change. As in change to become as low to their level and then go through the challenges they have to go through to become like you with them. Change with them so that you don't underestimate them. Because you know what it feels like."

Suddenly their conversation fell silent. So did the ones in my mind. Their level? Now that's a fine deduction!

"Anyways, thanks for carrying them over."

"Bye then."

"Bye"

**********

Chapter Twenty

I waited still for the two girls to disappear in opposite directions. Their level? Confused – true. But I still felt as if the two spiteful girls who could not stand the sight of me now were talking about how I'd changed for the better. If that meant anything, that meant that they felt that somehow I'd found my way into their friendship circle.

I chipped back to my tent as Amara lay on her pillow.

"Ouch," I yelped. I felt my hand burning. I looked down and saw a red blotchy rash all over my left arm.

"Oh no! I must have scraped my arm when I was hiding in that bush!" I cried, "No wonder! It was a thorny bush." I said, scraping off the thorns still stuck to my hand.

"Bush? What bush?" Amara asked, examining my arm.

I went pink. "Oh, I fell in this thorn bush on the way and..."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Sophie!" Amara moaned looking at my rash which had gotten even redder.

"Ouch!" I yelped, "Don't hold onto it so hard! It's still burning, you know!"

Amara sighed, "I think I have some leaves left"

She crawled to the edge of the mattress where the three sacks lay and dug into the first one. She finally fished out two leaves. And like before, she ripped them and placed the spilling sap on my wound. And like before, it burned worse than ever.

"Ouuu!" I cried.

"Sophie, you're only making matters worse!"

"What do you expect me to do? Hop around like an Easter bunny?" Amara finally fell into fits of giggles.

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh while I die here of pain and agony!" I muttered through gritted teeth.

"It'll get better soon, Sophie. Don't worry." Amara said, finally wiping her tears. And in no time, it did. It turned pink at first then back to its normal colour.

"Well now I'm glad that's over." I sighed, and fell into the nearest pillow I could find.

"Why don't you ever change into pajamas?" I asked with an accompanying yawn.

Amara fell on the pillow beside me.

"We didn't bring them from Syria."

"Who doesn't even bring clothes to a vacation?" I stored.

"Well," Amara sighed, "when I am asked to take the few most important things, I don't really go for clothes."

"Few most important things? W... what do you mean?"

Amara sighed and looked up at the tent celling "it's a long story." She muttered, so softly that I had to prick my ear to listen. I decided to saw no more and cut the topic short.

"Arabic, English and French. That's quite a mouthful. Do you Syrian children have extra-large brains?" Amara giggled and suddenly seemed to get back to her old, cheerful, playful spirit.

"Oh, I remember just so well how our teacher, Miss Caroline, used to tell off all of us." She cleared her throat and stood up on her knees.

"Oh, my littal darrrrlings! It is 'arrrrr'. Remember zee 'arrrrrr's. Wiz out ze 'arrrrr's ze littol frenz childrrren arrre not gezing it. Yez, Sophie, ze arrrrrs are not rolling! Ze arrrs! Ze aRRRRs!"

I giggled and rolled on the mattress along with Amara.

"Oh, old miss. Caroline. She made us all laugh but none of us learn."

"Les français sont les plus divins en matière de nourriture et de culture." I snorted.

"Nice. You know French too, then?" Amara asked in awe.

I smiled. "I've always wanted to learn French, actually, but never got the time. I just learned that one sentence from Mr. Bordeaux, the French man from over the street." I sighed.

"So, why didn't you tell me before!" Amara snapped impatiently, "Miss Caroline always told me that I was a pro at French. In fact, I once taught the kindergarteners a few tricks and tips."

"Wow!" I gasped

"Uh-huh. I can teach you in no time. Don't worry."

I beamed warmly.

"Really?" I grimaced, "you'll really teach me?"

"Of course." I smiled.

"Now come on!" Amara rushed, "we better hurry. We should get to bed soon, anyways." I smiled again warmly.

"So," Amara started as I stared at her with awe and substituted my diary.

"Now firstly, let's learn some French greetings. Hello, good morning, good day and..."

**********

Chapter Twenty-one

The sun woke me up this time, or probably it was just the sudden temperature increase. I looked beside me at Amara who slept peacefully with a pen still in her hand. I looked down and saw my butterfly notebook lay on beside me. I'd expected the same empty diary with 'trip to Egypt' written right on top. But it was full on quite a few pages. I scrutinized my eyes and peered down at Amara's neat and tidy handwriting.

"Flower – fleur" I read out in a sleepy voice. The heading now depicted the words 'learning French'. I felt my lips curl up into a grin.

"Smile now, but I'd actually like to see you learn all those stuff." I gasped and twirled around to see Amara rubbing her eyes awake.

"Last night," Amara whispered, "I could have gone on forever, but that was before I realized that you'd already dozed off to sleep, so I decided to accompany you."

I laughed and fetched my exploring outfit from under my pillow and crawled out the tent flap.

"What's the hurry?" Amara called from inside.

"We should head out early. We're taking those pictures, aren't we?" I yelled back and hurried to bathroom and back with my exploring hat on my head; the camera over my shoulders and my outfit boots on.

"Why don't you ever change clothes? How can you survive even one day in those disgusting rags?" I asked as I took a sniff of Amara's sleeve.

"I told you," Amara sighed, "I left them in Syria."

"But why? Why'd you leave so much?"

"It's a really long story, Sophie."

"Oh" I said in a disappointed growl. I had told her my story. Why is she so sensitive about her own? She barely shares anything to me!

"Sophie! Amara!"

We looked up to see the short dark haired trio waving to us as we walked towards them.

"What took you so long?" Niroz tapped her foot impatiently.

"We slept in because we spent nearly the entire night up teaching Sophie French."

"French?" Sandra whispered curiously.

"Yeah. I've always wanted to learn French but I never had the time, but now I do and Amara's teaching me."

"That's all great!" Niroz grumbled, "Now come on! The sun will be boiling and scorching soon!"

We all hurried up to the fence

"Now, what pictures are you going to take again?"

"Oh, um... we decided yesterday that we'd take pictures of each of us."

"Sounds great!"

"Wait!" Sandra's voice alarmed us all, "why don't we take pictures from the sight?"

"Great idea!" Niroz piped.

"The sight?"

"Yep," Amara added, "come on, we'll show you." Amara took my hand and they all led me farther along the fence until they reached an area where the grass had grown yellowish and a few dried-up leaves covered the area and formed a round circle.

"Here we are!" Amara declared. "If you look over the fence, then you'll see lots of animals and you can even get a view of the forests."

"That's great!" I smiled. "Now what do I film first. Hmm... hey, this tree looks..."

"Alghazal! Alghazal!" I gasped. The voice was so much different from the others. As strong but sweet. This wasn't a girl's voice so it had to be...

Yaman stretched out his arm over the fence and pointed at something that rustled along the bushes."

"Sophie! The deer. It's going away." I quickly clicked a picture to the direction they all instructed me to. I looked down to see a beautiful brown deer with slender, fast legs and two beautiful horns that stretched out like branches of a tree.

"Now that's a beauty!" I heard Niroz's voice whisper from over my shoulders.

"You know you're a great spotter, young man!" I said warmly as I leaned to the short skinny boy who gave me a dry smile.

"Do you want to take some pictures?" I offered him and handed him the camera. But, instead of taking it, he only went white and went further away from the camera and tried to hide behind his sister.

"W...what's the matter?" I asked in a surprised voice.

"Don't bother, Sophie." Sandra sighed, "Yaman has never held a camera. Papa always told him that he'd teach him photography. Now papa, he was a master at this stuff. But papa's back in Syria."

"Poor Yaman" Niroz sighed, "he'd always wanted to learn photography. Who knows when we'll go back again?"

"Well," I suggested, "If you really are that keen on learning photography, I could teach you."

Yaman's face suddenly lit up.

"Sophie yurid 'an yaelamak altaswir alfutughrafiu." Sandra knelt down and said quietly to Yaman

"Hal haqana?" he whispered. I yelped. Somehow, Yaman's voice seemed to startle me. We'd spent so much in silence that I'd somehow taken it for granted that he probably couldn't talk.

I gulped and said, "Sure! I mean I'm not a pro at it, but I could surely teach you the basics."

"I'm not sure that's possible, Sophie." Sandra sighed.

"Hmm?"

"Yaman can't speak English. He only knows Arabic and French."

"Oh."

Yaman's face went white again as Sandra shook her head gravely

"Well, then we'll communicate in French!"

"French!" Amara choked, "Who's that even possible? You only know one sentence and it's..."

"And 56 words."

"But you barely know them!"

"You'll teach me more and I'll learn super-fast and won't fall asleep – I promise."

"Oh Sophie," Amara said, shaking her head, "you know, Rome wasn't built in a day."

"Look, Amara, you'll just teach me words related to photography like a lens, distance, photos, pictures..."

Amara sighed. "Fine. I'll try my best." I smiled.

"Don't worry chap," I said warmly as I kneeled down and patted Yaman on the back.

"You'll be the best photographer in a few days. Say we practice in the mornings, eh?"

Sandra nodded.

"Okay. I think he'll be up then."

**********

Chapter Twenty-two

We spent the rest of the day eating meals; taking pictures and playing around. It had been weeks since I'd actually felt the wind in, my hair and my spirit going abuzz. I'd run faster than I'd ever run; and talked more than I'd ever talked before.

It was only when I slipped into my pajamas and crawled into the tent that I found Amara alone.

"Now," she started, handing me my butterfly notebook, "write down your so – called photography words." She said with a smile.

I eagerly scribbled down about 15 words. "Photo, camera, photography, lens, distance, there, beauty..."

Amara read from behind my shoulders. "Okay." Amara said and took the pad from me.

"Oh, and If you don't mind, I'll take some leaves in case I get bruised somewhere else."

"Sure, " she said. I smiled and crawled over to the sack and dived into it. It was dark inside and all I could see was black hollowness. I dug deeper and caught hold of something. A thick bunch of pages... I dug It out and found a large, thick square book. I blew the dust off the cover and it depicted pictures of gods, goddess's mermaids and other mythological creatures. On top were scribbles enscripted in gold. I opened the book. All the pages were covered in layers of dust. As I blew them off I noticed that all the pages were full of the same scribbles. But these weren't scribbles. This was another language, similar to those on the tent walls.

"Is this... is this Arabic?" I asked, turning to Amara, who was still scribbling down words in my notebook.

"Hmm?"

"This book," I asked impatiently, "I found it in your sack. Is it some fantasy novel or..."

"Oh!" Amara squealed, "You found my book! I'd always wanted to bring it here. It's my favorite one." I smiled

"See?" she said and took my finger and made it touch the words as she said them along, "alkharafat sayrayan alshaebia. Popular Syrian fables."

"Oh, that sounds interesting." I piped.

"Oh, it is, believe me." She said, "Oh," she squealed as she flipped through the pages, "Here's my favorite! Quisathwriat albahr –the story of the mermaid." Amara said dreamily.

"The story of the mermaids? Eh?"

"Uh – huh" Amara answered, "after her husband dies in sea, beautiful Atargatis dives into the water and wants to become a fish. But the gods don't let her because they say that she is too beautiful to give up all her beauty, so she turns her feet into one fishtail but keeps the upper part of her body, human and... oh, this is my favorite part!" Amara turned the page to a picture of a beautiful girl with long brown hair and green eyes on a rock with a silver fishtail.

"So, does she survive? D...does she meet her husband?" I asked impatiently.

"Um... I'd rather not tell you," Amara smiled slyly. "Then you'll lose interest in the story completely."

"Oh, darn it!" I muttered, "Looking at you makes me jealous and make me want to know all languages."

"Oh, Sophie!" Amara snorted, "You don't have to know the language. I'll read it to you and translate as I go along."

"Really?" I smiled.

"Now pay attention, I won't repeat twice."

I snorted, "Oh, go on, will you?"

"Fine! Now, once upon a time in a far-off land, live a..."

**********

Chapter Twenty-three

The next morning, I had gotten up early to teach Yaman his photography lessons. It was quite successful too. Yaman was a keen learner and managed to somehow get some meaning out of my poor French which he considered as It had been only two days since I'd begun learning the French language. Yaman was overjoyed to get his first successful picture of the forest with which I told him that we'd rather end the day there and headed off for breakfast. My parents were more than pleased to see me come happily in and sit down on the mat and drink the hot broth with no pain at all. The rest of the day we spent with the others. We mostly played around in the summer sun. Somehow, I found myself getting more used to their ways – how easily they rolled on the ground with no mind on the dirt they came in contact with. I learned how that climbing trees and scraping your knees and making a fuss about it is just crying over spilt milk.

With the coming days, I got to know the place and the people better. Niroz taught me that if you would stand still long enough, a squirrel might crawl over you or a woodpecker may start pecking at you as if you were a tree. Sandra taught me that the best way to carve on a hard rock is to first spill water on it and cover it with leaves for a night so that the rock soaks all the water and become soft and easier to cut and carve. Yaman taught me that if you roll over a hill and get grass on your clothes, you should roll over again, and then the grass falls off. Amara told me that the medical leaves stay fresh if you keep them in water for overnight.

The people too, soon got to know me as well as I got to know them. Niroz biblical was of the age of 10 and was rather impatient as it came and playful too.

Sandra Anzaroot was less impatient and playful. She had this knack of staying in one place and doing something constructive. Yaman Anzaroot was generally in the shadow of his sister and was rather shy and dependent on his sister for nearly everything that he did. But he usually was a keen observer and very polite and patient. With the days of my lessons, he found more interest in photography and its technology. I was told that he was only 7 and Sandra was 14. He had wanted to learn photography and English, but came here before he could.

Mrs. Anzaroot, their mother, was a kind – hearted woman who spent the entire day taking care of her children and Niroz and the other elderly people in the camps, including Mr. biblical, Niroz's uncle.

Sandra's grandma too was active for her age and generally helped her daughter in whatever ways she could, like bringing out the water.

Mrs. Lebanon, too, was a strong and hardworking woman, who fended for her loved ones. But as many of the others said, she is a broken-hearted woman, who is strong enough to hold on.

Amana Lebanon was a sour faced girl of 16, who very rarely stayed near people. That was all I could discover from her.

"Just like mother, always, she was – is never able to let go and is very easily heart broken." Amara had once told me.

"But why?"

Amara had always shrugged my question to rest

"One thing about her is that she'll never admit she's wrong. Even if she knows it, and admits it to herself, she'll never let you get to her." Amara had warned me.

I frowned. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I just wanted you to know that she's not all that bad. She's human just like us and she has a heart and feelings."

I snorted, "Hidden feelings, you mean?" Amara had always glared at me when I had said that, but I'd never understood why.

Why does she care for that soft – spoken sour – faced sister? She does nothing to make anyone like her!

I had always ignored Amara's feelings for her sister, which she had often tried to put into me. That was mostly the only thing we disagreed on.

I tried to make Amara change her mind off things. But it never worked. I tried to think of what Niroz had said that night; what mum had told me; what Amara did too. Find the silver lining. Get into her shoes. Oh, and how I tried to make Amana like me. I smiled at her every time she glared. I even offered to help her get water. In fact, I asked her to play with us, but they were all offered with the same impatient growls and groans and glares. The only times she talked was when she bid Amara and Mrs. Lebanon goodnight and when she bid Amara goodbye while going to get water.

Of course, I always thought that I wasn't trying enough and that I had taken it for granted that she didn't like me and that I couldn't like her like I felt about this camp at first. That had to be it. I had to try harder. But soon enough, I forgot all about Amara's sister and decided just to enjoy my holidays.

But the thing which bothered me the most was Amara.

I wasn't bothered about the fact that she often giggled too much and was too playful; or the fact that she never changed into pajamas or that she always believed that Amana and I were born soul mates. It was none of these features that bothered me. It was how little Amara shared about her past. Every night we spent time learning French words or reading out her Syrian fables or scanning the pictures I'd taken with Yaman, or chatting about our day or applying the natural ointment on my rashes and bruises which no matter how much I fitted in with this camp, I still hated and couldn't stand.

Her past, she always told me, was a long story which I'd always left there.

It had been nearly a week or more and Amara and I soaked the medicinal leaves in water.

"Hmm." Amara agreed, "That'll do."

"Just a second." I said, "I'll just check if there are any more leaves in the bag." I crawled back to the sac and dug in. But this time, I felt a soft, thick bind. Spirals. I grabbed it and fished it out. This was another book. Only the cover was velvet and blank with the same golden inscriptions. I opened it and saw photos – pictures. The first one showed a rosy cheeked girl playing in a meadow with long brown hair covered by a hat and a long strawberry dress. With her was a shorter boy with black hair sitting on the ground. The girl looked almost identical to Amara, only had a lighter shade of brown on her hair.

"I...is this you?"

Amara gasped and saw the book in my hands.

"Oh, you found our old family album."

She took the book from me and blew the dust off the cover.

"I nearly forgot about this old thing." She laughed, "Now let's see."

She laid the album in between us on the floor.

"a – ha. That's Amana and that's Ahmed. Oh,"

Amara said dreamily, "I remember this. Amana was 7, Ahmed was 5 and I was 2. This is in that beautiful meadow in the lowlands where we used to go in the spring. Roses and Jasmines, they were – the flowers that bloomed. I think roses and petunias weren't rare either. Oh, and maybe..." but I wasn't paying any attention at what Amara had been talking about.

"T... that's a...Amana!" I asked in disbelief, Amara nodded in surprise.

"Why?"

"She's... uh... pretty."

Amara laughed.

"Uh – huh." She smiled, "a smile sure looks good on her. At least it used to." Amara's chuckle turned into a sigh. "She never laughs anymore." I looked at her sorrowfully and then at the picture. Now that I'd seen the two, Amara and Amana had a clear resemblance to each other. They had the same big brown innocent eyes; The same silky, shiny hair; and the same mischievous smile. On the other hand, Ahmed Lebanon had a strange resemblance to his mother. The same narrow grim black eyes; stubby nose, thin lips and coal black, bushy hair, which I'd noticed when Mrs. Lebanon would wash her hair.

"Hmm," I mumbled and turned over the pages one by one as I listened carefully and Amara told me precisely what every picture was, when it was taken and who was in it.

"Now this," she said finally as the last picture flipped after the one before, "this is my auntie Maria and uncle Amon. This was taken in Belton road at their house just before we came here. Finally, Amara closed the book and sighed. The last I saw of them. The last gift for Eid I got from her. Probably the last I'll ever get from anyone."

Suddenly, before I could stop myself, I took off my hat and threw it on the tent wall, nearest to me.

"Now what?" Amara snorted, "my album isn't up to your classy level"

"No!" I muttered, "It's only this. Amara, I know every rock, every corner of this camp. I know the people here like the back of my hand, thanks to you. But how can this be? I know nothing about you. Why can't you tell me about your past? Is there something you have to hide?"

Amara's grin vanished. "Sophie, it's a long story..."

"No, Amara!" I bellowed, crossing my arms over my chest and looking away "I've told you my story - All about me. I've told you about my house, my school, Mrs. Rosie, the dinner lady, my friends – Rose, lily, prim, Chelsea, Prairie and Katy. I've told you all I know. Don't you think I deserve to know whatever you know too?"

Amara took a deep breath as I sat down in front of her, eagerly.

**********

Chapter Twenty-four

"I used to go to the St. James Aleppo School near my house. We used to walk to school while Ahmed cycled. Papa told us that it was better for a girl not to show off much of her sporty skills. I was considered a mediocre student, though Amana was always told that she'd get some good opportunity for sure, some day. Ahmed was always told by papa that he'd someday take the business of marketing that papa did. On the other hand, Amana wanted to be a doctor and loved biology and chemistry. Of course Amana spent the most time with me so I'd learnt to like whatever she did and I wanted to be a doctor too. Mama used to cook the meals and I'd play in the evenings with my friends. Zara was my best friend. Niroz played too, but like many other girls, she didn't go to school for most of her life. In the end, papa forced the Bilicals to send her. She went with me as she was new.

Our house was wonderful too. We had so many balconies and a beautiful terrace. We had a large garden too. Papa did most of the gardening and Ahmed helped. Amana said she couldn't stand dirt in her nails, so neither did I.

It was only that day which changed everything, when papa and Ahmed went to the store and never came back.

Amana told me that he'd gone on a travel tour and would come back soon. But something in Amana's voice made me realize that they might never come back. Mama cried that night and so did Amana. Mama told us that she wanted all of us to stay in one room to keep safe – even though she never explained why. Form that day things changed. We past weeks with the Biblical. They said they'd supply food for us. Then one week later, when I woke up, Amana told me that school was closed. It was a Wednesday and school was never closed! But for some reason, the whole month was off! Mama kept crying 'the bombs! The bombs! They are coming for us!' while Amana always cooled her down. The next day was worse. I'd go out to play when everything went dark. For all I remember, a truck had knocked me. A truck full of gunned, masked men. Amana had carried me in and noticed that I'd cut my knee and put ointment on it. I remember I cried in pain that night. Not the pain on my knee, but more the pain and shock. I remember what Amana had told me when I'd cried. "It's only you and me now, Amara. Now the world is against us. We must stay strong together and save mama." Of course mama had been acting strangely for the past few days. Somehow, the strong woman within her; the woman I knew, was gone. It was evident when she came in the room and nearly fell down. How when she used to hold her tea, it always slipped and fell on her dress. How when she cleans dishes, she leaves none of them intact.

I could no longer leave the house then. I was a prisoner in my own home. I was told to eat less, for; we'd borrowed food from the Biblicals.

The next day, I no longer found Niroz or her family – they said she'd fled. After that the Alfia's next door had left too. But where – I never knew. For some reason, we started sleeping in the basement, for a safety I never knew of.

The coming night, I remember – no one came. I slept peacefully, as I recall. But I had woken with great pain. As if I'd been thrown rocks at. When I woke, I found Amane's tearful face. Mama stood beside her. Somehow, she was stronger than ever. Her face was as hard as stone and her eyes – grim. Around us, was total darkness. Only certain light came out from the cracks of the ceiling. I had cried and wanted to know where we were as Amana took me in her embrace, but mama didn't listen.

I remember what she'd said. Take a few things only. Only those of great importance. She gave us sacks to put them in. I took a few crumbs of bread, water and the album. That was all I could take. Finally, Amane and mama hit the ceiling hard together with a few scraps of sticks and I saw that it suddenly seemed to go higher, when finally, I saw the light – it was the sun. Light flooded into the place. I knew the place well. It was our basement.

I took a look at myself and saw a dirty mess of blood and ashes. I was too weak to walk, and so Amane carried me as we climbed up to the streets.

"Where's our house?" I'd asked in terror, but neither answered, for on top of the basement, in the streets, was only ruins of bricks, plaster, marble, cement and ashes, cinder and blood. As we walked further into the town, more terror was to wait, for the entire town, once where our school was, the markets, the houses, were all replaced by ruins of the same terror I'd seen that'd replaced our house. Dead bodies lay here and there as different people helped carry them in cots. I whimpered and buried my head in Amara's shoulder. I thought I would cry at the disastrous site, but no tears came out. I was too shocked to cry. But that wasn't the only thing to worry about then. For, the roads were now full of colours.

Well, people. It was so busy – busier than I'd ever seen before. I did my best to keep hold of Amane's hand, for there wasn't even place to walk, up, down all was occupied. Was that all that had been going on the time I'd been locked up at home? I didn't know. All along, all I heard was mama's voice from somewhere in the crowd.

"Stay with me. Stay with me." And in some miraculous way I did. Her voice seemed to go on top of all the cries of "Alqanaabla! Alqanabl!"

"Bombs! bombs!"

It was horrible. And after what seemed like hours, someone's warm arms fetched me out of the crowd, when I woke, it was dark and night, the city was asleep, so I thought. But it was busier than ever, with the same rush.

**********

Chapter Twenty-five

When I woke, I was in Amane's arms, which was carrying me. We had survived the stampede. But as I stood I saw that on either side of me was long lines and rows of... of... people. That's right. They were all in line like the people of camp for getting both and bread for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

We were in a line too. We had been there for hours. I clung onto my mother's hand who had taken me and Amane in her embrace. I couldn't see what was at the end of the line until the last couple was gone and then I saw a large boat with about 50 people on it. The sailor looked at us as I slouched sleepily in my mother's arm.

All I remember was that the sailor had said, "Only two, dearies. Three won't do. I remember Amane hoist me on and got in with me.

Mama had given me a warm kiss on my head and her last words she whispered were the ones that guided me along the journey.

"Be strong, my dears." She had said, "You are all I have left. Please don't let me down. Stay strong and hope this all shall be over soon."

That was the last I saw of her before Amane shed her last tears as the shore got smaller and smaller, and finally vanished along the horizon. Somehow, I never cried anymore. I wanted tears to come out of me to make me feel better, but it never happened, I wondered why. Night along with darkness. Amane told me that it'd be like one of those trips to the sea where we'd go on boating trips. But, truly it was nothing like that.

The entire boat would wobble and bobble with the people on it, each clinging on for dear life. Me and Amane were sitting on the side. That was lucky considering we didn't have to be squeezed in the crowd of people. Of course, when you're on a boat that is about to overflow any moment, you'd rather prefer the middle than the edges. At night, there was merely any sleep, for people feared that if they'd close their eyes in that boat, they'd probably never have the good fortune of opening them ever again.

Of course, Amane told me that staying awake wasn't the answer to survival. We had to go to sleep. But for once, I did not obey. As half the boat slept, I stayed awake. My doll sank that night. It was dark, but I could see the stars.

"See, over there, that's papa and that's Ahmed." Amane had told me that night, pointing to the stars.

"Have they gone to sell space ships? Are they testing them out, over there?" But Amane would only laugh. A sad laugh.

Days went and came. Amane had brought only food in her bag. She said she knew this time would come. But nothing is everlasting, and so the food finished soon enough.

We would starve and soon Amane would get angry and curse the gods, while I shivered to keep warm. Soon, death approached us. Not that I was hurt, only that soon, one by one people disappeared from the boat. It was a relief to me, believe me. But I never knew how the pain felt until I saw it right in front of me. The water, then was our greatest enemy. Some would decide that it was better off to drown than live such a savage life. Other children would fall in while others face death in trying to save them.

I had, too, often nearly fallen into the water but Amane always caught me. Day in and day out went the same. Starving. Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. Death, approaching us one by one. Soon there were only about half the people left from what we had started with. There was no crying anymore. I wanted to cry for I'd felt like it was human to cry. People were dying in front of me... why wouldn't I cry? Don't I feel their pain? But, believe me, I did feel pain. The pain too great to cry.

The tears had all wiped out from me as well as everyone else from the boat. With every death, there was only silence. I had learnt that fear, death and survival were as easy come as fun, entertainment and games. No fear anymore. Somehow, we'd already given ourselves up to God, asking him for no mercy. No pain anymore. This was just like a trial. Stay alive as long as you can. Stay alive. I thought of what mama said to me and Amane. we were all she had. Staying alive. That was all I needed to do. Stay alive and believe me, that isn't as easy as it sounds.

**********

Chapter Twenty-six

The first sign of land we found was when the tall woman with the blonde hair screeched out "land! Land!" it had woken us all from our doze. And she was right. Soon, came shore. As I scrutinized my eyes, I saw people running towards us and launching our boat. I wished to run out of the boat, as fast as I could and get away from it as fast as I could, as fast as my legs could take me. But, I was too weak. I only slouched on the boat. Amane seemed too weak as well, since she took no pain in trying to pull me out. We were all exhausted. And one by one, men and women in bright fluorescent outfits came and pulled us away from the boat. Strong arms held me. As I looked up I saw a bold, tall woman holding me as I tend to fall down.

"We've got a kid here! Marisa, take her to compartment 507, Girls compartment." I heard her yell. I was so weak that even the sound of her harsh voice seemed to break me apart. I felt myself being handed to another woman. I was weak, but I was still able to read the banner.

Cairo station – it read. Even though geography wasn't really my subject, I knew well that Cairo was in Egypt and Egypt was I... in...In Africa! But my home was in Asia! So how could I have gotten there I had no idea. Home! I suddenly got back to my senses and rushed to find Amane. I was weak, but I needed my sister. There I found her weak as she was held firmly by the same bold woman who'd held me. She was being put in a different train. Even though I was weak, my anxiety overcame my weakness as I loosened Marisa's grip and rushed towards Amane.

My voice was shaking, but, Amane was calm. I ran to her and held her tight as If not wanting to let her go.

"Amara," she had told me, stroking my silky brown hair which had turned rough. Her warm hand made me feel safe, but Marisa was heading for me and I gasped "Amana!" I cried, for once, a warm tear rolling own my cheek.

"Remember to be good when you reach the place. They will give you food, and a place to stay and you'll be safe."

"But what about you?" I had cried.

"Don't worry about me." She had told me, "just remember this is just a vacation, so enjoy yourself and have fun..."

That was the last I heard of her before both of us were pulled in different directions. I had cried her name several times, but no answers came.

"Please!" I cried to Marissa who didn't seem to be paying much attention to me. "My sister! I need her, please!" I gave a last cry before I was shoved in a closed room, with tall, tiny windows.

**********

Chapter Twenty-seven

I jumped up and looked out and saw the other people helping people from the boats where had they put Amane? But soon they were there no more and we had entered the green countryside. These places matched those with the pictures in my geography book. Soon, I found seven other girls just like me in the very same compartment all around my age. At least I think so. I never bothered asking for they were in an even bigger mess than I was. Half of them were crying and others were muttering things about the reason of life and death and some talked to their parents in their sleep. We had spent a day or two in the musty old train. There was barely any room for us in the compartment and we squeezed in. An old lady would come and serve food – water and rice. After days and days starving in that boat, it felt like heaven.

The second day the train halted and we were sent out by a man in black. That wasn't the end of our journey, of course. We were then sent to a large ground were a line of buses stood. The meadow reminded me of the playground we used to play in. But one of the girls in our group was very keen on playing, then. Nor was I. We had gone through enough. We joined with a group of boys and got on one of the buses.

These buses were the ones you came in. They were large, red with blue stripes. The inside was full of seats and there was barely any room to place a foot anywhere. When the bus door opened, children rushed in and nearly knocked me down. Suddenly, they seemed to find their energy again. I spent the entire journey sitting beside two red headed twins who screeched every time they saw a cloud. And believe me, that was really often.

My journey ended when the bus halted and the doors opened. Children rushed out while some wanted to stay. And cried for their mothers and brothers. I went with the eager children as I remembered Amaras words well – "you'll be safe"

The thought of Amane made me cry. Hot, angry tears rolled down my cheek. She had left me alone in this place to fend for myself. So had mama. Mama had left me with Amane and Amane had left me all alone. Somehow Amane's cool attitude in the station made me furious. She just left me with no care for me. But there was no time to worry about that, for I had been given a tent number and was told to go there. And I did. All the tents were identical to each other, just like this one, without the paintings of course.

At first, I hated this camp even more than you. But then, I found Niroz. I'd made friends too. With Sandra and Yaman. Niroz worried about her parents like I did about mine. But I always told her that they'd probably stayed back or like mama, were late, or were separated like Amane was. But somehow I doubted this trip idea. I started to distrust my sister. But when you came along, she's changed so much. I never know why. She's become quiet and meek and cold and doesn't boss around me, or take me under her wing anymore. Things have changed and I miss home, I want to go back. But the image of our house in ruins, the gunned men, the entire town in ruins, so many people in fear... the sight of death is not a happy one Sophie and it is not easy to forget either. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see it, death. The sight of the people dying on the boat. Truly, I do. But, like my time in the boat, I never cry. I sometimes wonder if I'm a cruel person, not crying when someone dies. But, just like everyone else, my pain and shock is too much to come out through tears."

**********

Chapter Twenty-eight

"Good night, Amara! Lights off!" Amara gasped and turned around to see Amane and Mrs. Lebanon curled up and asleep under the thick blanket. I had been so into Amara's story that I didn't even notice that everyone around us was asleep.

"Well," Amara smiled sadly, "we better get some sleep too, don't you think?" but I didn't answer. I was to stupefied to listen or speak.

"Oh, Amara, I'm so sorry," I finally choked, "I didn't know that you've been through so much..." just like in her story, I was too shocked to cry. I'd never imagined that such a powerful story could be hidden behind such a cheerful little girl.

"I... it's all right." Amara's voice was uneasy as she bit back tears.

I lay down under the thick blanket and Amara did the same.

"Amara, you should write these feelings down, to make you feel better, when they bother you."

"Thanks," Amara smiled, "I'll try writing them down on the rocks or the ground with sticks. I'll try in the morning."

"Hmm." I thought. "Oh, and Amara do you..."

But before I finished, I heard snores. I looked beside me and saw Amara sound asleep and I decided to keep it that way.

**********

Chapter Twenty-nine

Some NGO wanted to connect people of different cities in this community Christmas celebration in Egypt. They wanted to bring them in rags and make sure all hope is lost. Then they'll surprise them with gifts. That seemed just right to me. But still the next morning, at breakfast, I went for help. Mum and dad were probably no good so I walked across the food bar towards the three tall men in black. There was only one man standing after breakfast was over and everyone had cleared off. Mr. Tarek stood tall and gunned. He reminded me of what Amara had told me. And even though I know that it wasn't true I gulped. I brought my courage and went towards him. He noticed me and gave a start.

"So, our little, Sophia... what was it?"

"Sophie!" I muttered, rolling my eyes at the man who stared at me most innocently.

"Oh, um... yes, Sophia. What brings you here?" when I first came to the place, I couldn't stand the man getting my name wrong, but now I got used to it and decided to accept it.

"I came to you because I hoped you could help me with something – to understand this place better."

He nodded sincerely.

"Um.. This place it is very unpopulated."

"You are a very clever girl." He smiled, "what makes you think that?"

"The stars. There are thousands of them. You won't find so many in the cities, like where I am from."

"Correct."

"Well, this camp has been built for quite a long time. But you have built them, bigger and bigger as you went along, not all at once. I noticed it from the empty place you keep to the sides, in case more come. So, this is an ongoing process? So, it possibly can't be a Christmas holiday."

"Christmas holiday!" he laughed, "my dear child, we are here to protect you. For a Christmas holiday – party – celebration – there is no time. Go hire a clown for that! Of course you are right about this ongoing process point. Our camp started from only ten tents. It got bigger and bigger from there. The government has given us this big, big place to make this big, big camp to keep these people and children like you. To protect the valuable future that we need for life to go on."

"P... protect? What are you protecting them from?" Mr. Tarek pursed his lips and mumbled something.

"I...is it a person?"

"Hmm." Tarek muttered, "I can promise you that these are no bedtime stories for little children like you."

"Please tell me." I begged, "no one will. I want to know."

Tarek shook his head, "later you will understand that not telling you is probably the best." With that he nodded and left."

I grumbled and muttered, "Fine! Don't tell me. I'll just have to find out for myself!"

Still, it was true, I had learnt something. That this was definitely not a party. This was something much more dangerous. Protecting them... protecting them... protecting them from what? No one knew. I decided that it was best not to tell Amara of what I had found out. She had gone through much already. This would scare her even more. Sandra, Niroz and Yaman new nothing about his either. And Mrs. Lebanon, Mrs. Agrotte, grandma Agrotte and uncle Biblical pursed their lips about the subject.

**********

Chapter Thirty

I sighed and looked up at the tent ceiling. It had been 3 days since Amara had told me her story and I still found no answer. Amara had turned back into her cheery self and things were like the story had never been told. I closed my eyes as Amara smiled down at me.

"Exhausted?"

I nodded.

Amara lay down beside me.

"We finally finished the first story of Syrian mythological stories!" Amara squealed. I smiled.

"It sure was exciting!"

"Uh – huh." Amara agreed, "I loved the part when Krista got the sun crest back from the goddess Arinna."

I smiled.

"I realize why you like that book so much." Amara laughed.

"It's time you were asleep, girls, don't you think?"

"Fine, mama." The light went off and soon everything was silent and asleep, except me, of course. My mind buzzed around the three words which were connected but, again so apart.

Fear... death... survival...

Fear... death... survival...

Fear... death... survival...

I bit my lip. There was nothing to be afraid of. In fact, this was a peaceful camp. In fact, I'm pretty sure, Tarek meant... meant... protect them from the surprise!

But I knew it wasn't a surprise. It wasn't a party. This was...

Fear... death... survival...

Fear... death... survival...

Fear... death... survival...

I could take it no more. I draped the red shawl around my shoulders and went into the cold dark night. Only the lights on the boarders of the fence were lit. I ran to the fence and looked out at the forest. I smelled the green minty smell that came out of the forest. I took a deep breath and sighed. The smell of the wilderness, always brought me shelter to hope. But I knew this was not natural. Dad had told me on the first day that we came here that it was man – made. Anyways, it gave me relief.

"I knew you'd be out here."

I twirled around in fright to see the tall girl in the short dusty purple dress. Her black pants matched the duty hijab that covered her head. She looked nothing like she did in the picture. Her big brown innocent eyes were tired and glared at me; her sweet, innocent smile had turned into a dry scowl. At that moment, she looked nothing like Amara and the fact that they were sisters came nowhere on my mind.

"I... I was just leaving." I said firmly, trying as hard to not make myself look scared and just let her boss me around.

Her voice was rather broken and sharp.

"I could have gone home, you know," she smiled a sad smile as she looked beyond to the woods, "but apparently, the queen of fancies stopped me." She muttered glaring at me.

I gulped. "It's cold outside."

"I'm sorry, dearie, unlike you, beggars who have hidden feelings don't have a shawl." I gasped.

"I'm sorry I said that," I said in the frightened tone I ferreted to expose in front of her. "I was new then... I didn't know the rules..."

"I could have gone back to Aleppo and started a new life instead of staying in this prison."

Now, it was my time to glare at her, "I think that's selfish. How can you leave Amara here to fend for her just like you did before?"

Amana's glare suddenly turned into a sad smile, then into a laugh, "you think this is all a fairy tale, don't you?"

"W... well... nobody tells me what it is. What do you suppose I do?"

"That's what they do. They tell you that it's not a bedtime story for kids. On the other hand, other kids have to suffer it their entire life." She gave a tiny laugh, "funny system, they have."

I gulped. "Suffer?" I asked, "Children suffer? The children in this camp... suffer? But what is it that they suffer?"

"You shouldn't believe a word she says?"

"Amara?"

"Hmm." Amana answered. This holiday tour dream of hers if even sillier than yours."

"B... but that's unfair! You're the one who told her that it was a vacation!"

"Oh Sophie!" Amana nearly laughed. Somehow her innocence turned into the devil she was. "All my life I've wanted to have a family who would keep me safe and whom I would protect from having a career. A doctor. Yes, genius, Amara's told you about it, hasn't she? You two share this rather ironic friendship."

Amana looked at me, "the girl who can give up nothing and the girl who gave up everything."

The words hit me like stones, "gave up? Everything? What did she give up?"

Amana looked at me and glared.

"Would you please stop acting like a chicken?"

"I really know nothing! Truly! I'm not lying!"

Amana sighed, "I think you should have talked to me before Amara pestered all of that nonsense into your head."

"'Y... you certainly seem kinder towards Amara in her stories." I muttered

"Look, sweetie, Amara told you her story in her point of view, the wrong point of view, while I tell my story from my point of view, the right point of view!' Amana spat.

Amara's voice echoed in my mind. "She'll never admit that she's wrong. She may admit it to herself, but she'll never let you get to her."

I gulped and softened my voice.

"So what is your point of view?"

"Sit down" Amana groaned I obeyed and sat on the wet grass. Amana did the same and looked at me grimly.

"Do you really want to know... the... the truth?"

I nodded. Amana sighed and took a deep breathe,

**********

Chapter Thirty-one

"Well, what they say is right. The truth is no fairy tale with good always winning.

As my sister probably told you about our life before the mishappenings, things went well. In school, I was mostly in the good lists with my wish of being a doctor. Amara tried to follow my steps, but almost always, failed. I and Amara were close to mama while Ahmed was close to papa.

Days in the sun came and went until that day. The day... the day... the day d... death approached my brother and father." Amana eyes had welled up with tears.

"D... death?" I gasped, "But Amara told me that they'd gone on a business trip."

Amana looked at me fighting back tears, "me and mama tried hard to hide the truth from her... the dark, terrible truth. We thought that after some years, she'd forget about them and we'd never have to tell her. But the day will come... the day will come when the truth will be revealed."

Amana wiped her tears and continued with a shaky voice.

"Soon the bombs started falling. The bombs that killed my father and brother and many others who went to the market. Papa and Ahmed had gone to the market and never came back. We later discovered the truth. Soon, our school got bombed and so did our lovely statues and memorials. One by one, one by one they all went down. After the incident where Amara was attacked I had decided to keep Amara away from those people and the bombs. I locked her up in the basement at night, mama too. Even though Amara was suffering, she saw the world through a blur. Mama, was too weak and shocked after the death of Ahmed and papa. Instead, she used to sit and look out of the window all the time, as if hoping they'd probably come home after a long business tour, like they always did. It was my job to keep the family together, especially Amara, who was young and knew very little about what continued in the outside world, under her nose.

Without the money we got from papa, we were poor and we had to get food from the Biblical's.

"Some days, I just wish that this is all a bad dream and that I'll just wake up and papa and Ahmed will be back again and mama would be her old self and me and Amara would be free. I hope that somehow, maybe god shall rescue us. All I ever wanted was to protect our future."

"But... but why do they do it? Why do they bomb the streets?"

"Look, everybody in this small world of ours wants power in one way or the other. It is the nature of the human race. Power means happiness to us. Like I want to have power over Amara and my family; like you want power over your friends to fit in, Amara wants to have power over happiness and friendship."

I went silent.

"I can't believe it! Dad told me that people built that artificial forest near the fence. How can the same people be so destructive and so nice?"

"We are our own enemies. No force of nature is as destructive as our own race. We are our own enemies, Sophie."

I sat, stupefied, "And w... why would you hide so much from Amara? She deserves to know like I do, like you told me!"

"Oh, Sophie! You don't know what it's like to know this. When you've lived through it. Every moment of life trying to only survive. I had to survive, my family would survive on me. Amara is only a child who cannot take in much pain. If I ever tell her, she may even die of pain. I have tried to reveal as little for this reason. When she is stronger and older and understands her family struggles like me, I shall tell her. You won't feel so much for you won't feel the pain of death that she has experienced."

I gulped, "continue."

"Finally the day came when our house went too. That was the time, we had no option but to flee the country. When war is upon one's home, other countries allow refugees, that's us, to take shelter in their countries. Egypt was the nearest. So, Egypt was where we'd go. That was where Uncle Biblical and Niroz Biblical went. Of course her uncle was badly injured and her parents had met the same faith that papa and Ahmed had. Of course I left everything, only food, I took. To keep my family alive. Every day, the town would be crowded of people, fleeing, just like us. To cross the sea, we took the boat. But mama had to leave us for there was no space for her. That was the worst time of the entire trip, leaving mama. The trip was disastrous, and I always had a worried Amara with me, asking questions. After the food got over, I would get angry and curse, but nothing would happen. Several times, Amara would nearly fall into the water, but I would always manage to catch her.

After days, we met shore. Amara believes that it was selfishness that brought me to leave her. That was because she was helpless and scared. But I knew the place they would take us was safe. Where kids roamed freely and where we would get food and a place to sleep and where we wouldn't have to fear the bombs. That we saw as paradise at the time. But they put me in the woman's compartment and Amara in the girls'. The journey was more hectic for me. I was with girls who would cry and bawl and stare. But of course I was late as the train stopped working. At night, we had to sleep in the dark, cold and damp, broken train before we could get into a new train where I met mama. Mama never forgave me either – for letting Amara go away alone. But seeing mama again was the sign that gave me happiness.

After we reached the station, I tried to sneak into the girls group to find Amara but I never did find her but ended up in the bus you were on. Later on, me, mama and Amara were reunited. But, if Amara asks you why little Bo peep has turned into a hidden feeling-ed sister, tell her that sometimes the truth can set you free, but often it locks you up in a dungeon of fear which you can't escape from, no matter how hard you try."

**********

Chapter Thirty-two

I gulped.

"B... but I still don't get this whole thing!"

Amana sighed, "Syria! Syrian war, ISISI! Doesn't that ring a bell in you?"

I gulped, "uh..."

"No?" Amana spat, " um... what about your teacher that Mrs. Crapy of yours, didn't she tell you anything about this?"

"It's Mrs. Rosie!"

"Oh, whatever!" she glared at me, "well did she?"

I wrinkled my nose and stared at the flaring girl who looked like she would have liked to scream.

"W...well, why don't you tell me about it? And pipe down, will you? Would you like the entire camp to wake up? It's this war?"

"Hmm" Amana answered grimly. "Of course, I never understood it well either."

"I... I think she might have told us about this political disruption in this... um... Syria? And she said that it started it in around 2013 or... um, around that time. And some political stuff. These rulers,... they, um, teamed up with these people, ISISI, and they wanted power?"

Amana nodded.

"Well... I know you tell me this to, you know... why exactly did you tell me this?"

Amana sighed, "I'll tell you the truth. In this camp, you're the only one who's not gone through this, but knows the story. You don't know how it feels to go through the shock and pain, to experience death as if it's just a game. But I was wondering if I could feel better some way, you know, if you could help?"

I gasped.

"You're asking me for help?" I narrowed my eyes at her as she glared at me.

"Fine! Don't help me!"

She got up and stomped away.

"Wait, Amana, wait! Okay, I'll help you."

Amana stared at me as if I had just popped out of thin air. I ignored her glance.

"Um... why don't you, um... write it down? You can use..."

"I've already tried that genius!" Amana spat, back to her snob pushy self. I promised myself to keep my temper as I took a deep breathe.

"Um..." I thought for a while before Amana gave an irritating grumble which brought me back to my sense.

"I know, um... is there a place you know where people don't go very often and which is mostly empty and inhabited."

Amana gulped and whispered, "there is one place..."

I followed her into the dark night, farther along the edge, when finally we came into an empty space. The space kept for more refugees to come, on one corner of the open field was a long narrow room which we entered. The door creaked as we closed it. I yelped and decide to stay closer to Amane and make sure I didn't get lost. It was a long corridor. The end of the corridor was a tiny room, with a few broken chairs and tables. Amana closed the door slightly and turned to me.

I gaped at the place. "What is this place?"

Amana smiled, dryly, "I'm not sure actually. People say that this whole place was a school which broke down during the 2nd world war. A charity agency run a school for this camp children. It has stopped for quite a long time now. This is one of those broken classrooms. She pointed and the wall and ceilings, "see how old these walls are? People say these are very very old."

I gasped and moved away from the nearest wall.

"It... it won't fall on us, will it?"

Amana laughed. "Don't be silly!" I shivered.

"So, move on, will you!" Amana snapped, "why'd you bring me here?"

"Look," I said softly, " you need to tell someone these feelings. You can't just lock them away in your heart and hope that you'll forget them someday. A wound may heal, but scars won't. Those memories have scarred you, Amana. You have to tell someone without having the fear of them laughing at you or making fun of you."

Amana gulped and then glared at me.

"So you propose that I just shout like an imbecile with no meaning at all! Now that's a solution!"

I gave her a cold look.

"That's my idea. Take it or leave it."

Amana sighed. "If you say so."

I smiled.

"Please, Amana. Try. Like I had to when I first came here."

I fell silent and stared at her for a few seconds.

"Go ahead then." I said, heading for the door, "I suppose you'd rather want to do it by yourself."

Amana nodded quietly, "if you wouldn't mind."

I smiled and opened the door to step out.

"Oh, and Sophie, just one more thing..."

I closed the door and twirled around to Amana. She patted my shoulder and took my hands in hers, warmly. Somehow the coldness and harshness and snobbishness in her had disappeared and all I saw was a scared little girl who needed someone.

"I just want to say... thank you."

I gulped, which turned into a laugh, "thank me? For what?"

"For hearing me out." I didn't smile or laugh. I just stared blankly at her.

"Oh, and... I know how you feel."

"About what?"

Amana shuddered. "You feel like you don't belong in this place... um... just because you're not from Syria. But the world doesn't work that way. It doesn't matter if you don't speak the same languages or wear the same clothes, or even like the same things. We are all one family. The world, true it is large. But we are all connected in one way or another. The truth is we are all human. And no matter where we come from, we have that one thing in common – we are human and we all deserve the same things, to have a home, family, food and love. That is one thing that connects us all. We all need love."

The last words came as a whisper to me, For the wind blew and left into the cold, dark, night. I stared at Amana. For a second I found myself in her. We both needed to tell somebody about our feelings. At school, I was always the know-it-all who had to impress the teacher and had to show her friends that she was the best. And now that I looked back, I saw myself in the same perspectives. But something about this camp made me feel free. Not that it was large and a great place to play. It was because all the people here needed love. And, as a matter of fact, so did I. I needed a friend who wouldn't see me as a know-it-all. All the people here needed love. We all need love.

Somehow, I broke out of my daze and left Amana.

"Thankyou" her voice echoed in my head.

**********

Chapter Thirty-three

The entire meeting felt like a dream, for the next morning, Amana wore that same sour face she did when her eyes fell on me. But certain things had changed. For one thing, she had made a few friends, and played around and had that cheery innocent face I had seen in her picture. Amara believed that she had won her sister back, but I never really told her the reason why.

The days went by like dandelion blowing off from the shoot. In Seconds.

With Yaman learning photography and Amana playing with us, the camp felt like the next paradise. I also loved to help Niroz's uncle who could now walk around quite freely. Helping suddenly seemed like another joy.

But the good days are the days that last the shortest. The 2 weeks went by like they'd never happened. Soon, my parents came to me with the ending, when it felt like it had just begun.

"Sophie! Good news!" the words had stung me like bees.

I walked over to my parents. It was lunch and the sun was scorching hot as usual. I ran over to the shade.

"Well, you've sure turned sprightly after all these days you've been forced to stay here!" mum laughed. I smiled.

"I've decided that this place isn't so bad if I gave it a chance." Mum smiled.

"Well," dad said warmly, "guess what! We booked the plane early. Isn't that great! I finished my interview and experience here. Since you've been such a good girl and cooperated with me for so long, I decided to book the plane and not spend another week here. Isn't that great?"

"But there's only 1 week ¬¬to go. Why can't we just stay the rest?"

They exchanged shocked glances.

"Sophie, is something wrong?" Mum asked, worriedly.

Dad looked at me sternly. "We're sorry, honey, we didn't know. Anyways, we're leaving tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning!" I gasped, "but... but..."

Mum stared at me and gulped. "Would you like to help us pack, honey?"

I sighed, " I'm alright, mum."

"It's okay." Dad said sternly, "only, we'd like you to keep your own bag packed. So, you can do it tonight." Dad left sternly to his cabin. We watched him go as mum eventually turned to me.

"You sure you don't want to help us pack?" Mum gulped.

"No, I'm fine." I sighed, "Mum, can you somehow make dad change his mind and let us stay for probably another week or so..."

Mum looked at me strangely, "Sophie, when you first came here, you couldn't stand the sight of dirt. Now you're rolling on it?" she said, scraping the dust off my shoulder.

"Oh, um... yeah. Well, can you make him change his mind?"

"Oh, honey," Mum fretted, "you should have told us earlier. We can't cancel these tickets! They were too expensive. Some other time, dear."

I sighed and turned away.

"We're sorry." Mom whispered and kissed me on the forehead. I forced a sad smile.

The rest of the day was same as usual, with the same smiles and laughs and jokes and games and fun. But when all the others played along the same jolly spirit, Amara always seemed to eye me. I would never take her gaze. I could never tell her that I was leaving! Just like Amara... how she dreaded the day would come, and it would come soon...

When night fell, I couldn't stand the pain of clearing out the mess we'd made in the past weeks. I smiled at the books and leaves and rocks.

From there, I picked out my camera, my history book and my...

"Exploring hat? Can't go exploring without an exploring hat," said a laugh. I gasped and saw Amara handing me the hat and gathering my other stuff.

"Oh, Amara, thanks. I was about to tell you but... um... I..."

"What are you so afraid of?" she laughed, "I'm not the school master you know. It's already past 9. We should go to sleep."

I smiled and lay down on the pillow as I cleared the mattress.

It was then that I realized, as much as I feared the moment to come, Amara did even more.

**********

Chapter Thirty-four

"Wake up, honey!" I gasped and jolted up. The sunlight had seeped through the tent flap and my mother beamed down at me.

"W... what's wrong?" I yawned,

"Nothing." Mom declared, "we're leaving, don't you remember? Wake up and get ready! You can't leave in this dress, it's covered in dirt."

"Sure, mum." I stretched and turned around to see that the beds were empty.

My mother looked narrowly at the mess on the edge of the tent.

"I don't see the packing going any smoother."

"Oh, I..." I noticed the mess too, and grinned, "I was too sleepy last night."

My mother sighed, "honey, we told you about it yesterday morning to give you enough time to pack."

"I'm sorry, mum."

"Well, then," she snapped, "get going, will you? We don't have much time."

I bit my lip as my mother left and handed me a pretty summer dress.

The toilets were fairly empty at the time as breakfast was over and the sun was a bright yellow.

I brushed my hair and left to my parent's cabin with my bag slouched over my shoulders.

"I'm done."

"Good!" my mother sighed, "honey, could you sit down for a while? Your father and I have a little work left."

"Sure, mum." I looked around at the cabin. It was quite a clean one with a carpet on the wooden floor with two beds and a dressing table in the middle.

"Mum?" I gulped.

"Hmm?"

"Could I go out for a while? There's something I really need to do."

"Well, okay. But don't be too long."

I nodded and left.

**********

Chapter Thirty-five

Saying goodbye was much worse than saying hello, for I hated to leave the place which had offered me so many friends. First were the policemen who I thanked and bid goodbye.

"So," Mr. Tarek had asked, "has our little Sophia finally got the answer to her question?"

"Sort of," I'd answered, "but, as a matter of fact, you were right. It really is no children's bedtime story."

"and by the way, I think Sophia quite suits me." Mr. Mormaz chuckled as Mr. Tarek smiled cluelessly.

They all smiled and I did too. Next were the girls. Sandra and Niroz were by the fence with little Yaman. I bid them farewell and a few tears were shed.

"Oh, come on Sandra!" Niroz had flared impatiently, "cut it short, will you?"

For once, we all laughed, including Niroz.

Little Yaman declared to be the saddest.

"Don't worry!" I pipped, "maybe someday if I go to Syria, you'll be the photographer who'll be taking all the pictures."

Mrs. Lebanon, uncle Biblical, grandma Agrozette and Mrs. Agrozette were talking by their tents. They all bid farewell warmly as Mrs. Lebanon embraced me.

I had still missed one – Amara.

I ran everywhere. In the end, I saw the tiny, skinny figure, skipping rocks in the pond.

"Amara!" I panted, " I've been looking all over for you!"

Amara gave a sad smile. Unlike the others, she didn't shed a tear. She only looked at the pond in which she tried to apply her full concentration.

"It's all right, Sophie, I know."

I sighed, "Well then, we're probably never going to meet again."

"Never say never, Sophie." I gave a sad laugh.

"Well then," she sighed, " then I'll probably never know the truth, will I?"

"Never say never, Amara."

She smiled.

"Don't worry," I whispered, "she'll tell you one day when you're older."

Amana came to us in a joyful prance.

"Goodbye, Sophie. Thank you for everything." She said.

Amara stepped in front. I wanted to hug her as hard as I could to show her exactly how much of a friend she was to me. But I just stretched my hand as Amara shook it. I smiled at the two sisters, none tearful but with a tingle of sadness in their hearts.

"Sophie! Come on! We got your bag!"

I turned around to my parents.

"I'd better go." I whispered. But I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to tell them how much they meant to me and how they'd turned my holiday, into the best trip ever, but I never could.

Instead, Amara took my hands in hers and whispered, "goodbye, Sophie."

I bit my lips to hide my tears and whispered, "Goodbye."

As the car took a turn and disappeared to the driveway, I watched the two girls with whom I longed to be with.

"So, Sophie? Did you have a nice trip?"

But I wasn't listening and watched them constantly. Even as they got smaller, I could still see that glistening smile of Amara's. That glistening smile of a friend from Syria, I once knew.

The End

~~~~~~~~~~

This story was a Christmas school assignment which was appreciated by Urbis's English teacher who recommended her to publish it online.

