“All right, put it in first gear. Now let out the clutch and press the accelerator … easy, I said!”

The car jerked and stalled. Amira’s legs were just long enough to reach the pedals.

“Try it again. And don’t worry about going off the road; it’s hardpan here.” She tried again and stalled again. And again. Then she managed first gear but stalled when she shifted to second. Each time, Amira remembered Laila’s fear of a breakdown.

Then, suddenly, she got it. She took the Mercedes through first to second— with only a little grinding noise—and then to third. The landscape was rushing by faster than it ever seemed to do when Malik was driving, and she was grateful for his steadying hand on the wheel. Then she pushed it away. She had been oversteering, she realized. All that was needed was an easy turn of the wheel, a light touch on the pedal.

The feeling of having the powerful machine in her power was magical. She drove in circles and figure eights. She learned to use the brakes and, at Malik’s instruction, switched on the headlights, blinked the turn signals, even ran the windshield wipers; the fact that German engineers had provided for such an unlikely event as rain impressed her.

“All right, Little Sister, we’ll run out of gas at this rate. Slow it down. Now, stop.”

She braked to a halt that was only slightly too abrupt. “Can’t I drive back to town?”

“No. That’s enough.” Malik shut off the ignition, got out, and came around to take the driver’s seat. “You liked that, did you?”

“I loved it!”

“Well, now you know how to drive. It’s something you never forget.” Was that what Laila had meant? Or was it all of this, the whole experience, the feeling of power, all the while dressed like a male, doing something only males were permitted?

Malik started the engine and turned toward home. “Thank you, Brother. Can we do it again sometime?”

“Who knows? But there’s the airport. Maybe you’d better put your girls clothes on and hide the ghutra before we get any closer in.”

“Oh, all right.”

She reached under the seat for her dress.

“No!” Malik said suddenly. “Don’t do it now. There’s an army Jeep com- ing up behind us.” He glanced worriedly at the rearview mirror. “Damn it! I think he wants us to stop. All right, don’t worry. Just remember you’re a boy, and don’t say anything unless you’re asked.”

He pulled over. The Jeep swung around the Mercedes and stopped in a cloud of dust. A small, wiry man wearing a pistol and a larger man with an automatic weapon got out and approached the car. In the heat of the desert, Amira felt as if she were freezing.