“It has to be in the proper format. A two-inch square with the head in the middle.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” she said. “How’d you get so smart about this?”

A shadow passed over his face. “We left everything behind. Everything we owned, and all our important documents as well. Fortunately, my parents had made digital copies and stored them online.”

Julie tried to imagine what that had been like for him—walking away from his home, his neighborhood, his town . . . his father. “I’m sorry that happened to you and your family. It must have been awful.”

“The worst part is that my father is still detained. My mother and our host family have been trying to secure his release.”

“What’s he like, your father?”

Tarek’s large, dark eyes turned soft and beautiful. “He is my best friend. And the best soccer player I know. I learned all the moves from him.”

“Oh, look, it’s Jumbo Julie and Lawrence of Arabia,” called a harsh-sounding voice.

Julie’s head snapped up. Vanessa Larson, along with Jana and three others in their clique, were bearing down on them. As usual, they traveled in a pack, all skinny jeans and silky hair and nasty attitude.

“Ignore them,” Tarek said.

“Sure,” she muttered.

“You two make such a cute couple,” Vanessa said, sidling closer.

Julie wanted to disappear without a trace, but there was no escaping the gaggle of girls. Humiliation felt like fire, the kind of fire built for human sacrifice.

“Lawrence of Arabia was an Englishman,” Tarek said easily. “I am not an Englishman.”

“No, you’re a terrorist, that’s what I heard.” Vanessa did a lame imitation of his accent. Then she whipped out her phone and took their picture. “I’m going to post this online so everyone can see what a cute couple you are.”

Julie still had a knot on her head where Vanessa had “accidentally” bonked her during surf rescue. The knot seemed to throb as her temper rose. “Why would you do that?” she asked, dismayed to hear a tremor in her voice. “Can’t you just mind your own business?”

“Oh, look who’s talking,” Vanessa snapped. “You’re the one who told your mom a bunch of lies about us. She saw us at the library and said you gave her some bullshit story that we’re picking on you. As if.”

Julie’s insides turned to ice. Really? Had her mom really said something to Vanessa? After Julie had begged her not to? Everything was going to get worse. Way worse.

Mortified, she stood and gathered up the passport forms.

“Whatcha got there?” Jana asked, snatching up one of the pages.

“Hey—”

“Ooh, a passport application. Does this mean you’re going away?”

“God, I hope so,” Vanessa said. She grabbed the form and ripped it in half, and then in half again, all the while holding Julie’s gaze with hers. “Unfortunately, they don’t give passports to people who hang out with terrorists. Oh, and your mom probably can’t get one either, because they don’t give passports to murderers.”