Huda waited in the parking lot of the Baghdad Fun Park, face still burning with shame, and stared across an artificial lake at the turquoise dome of Martyr’s Monument. The fountains in the lake had been switched on to celebrate the president’s victory in the referendum, and a veil of spray drifted across the water, through the parking lot, and toward the gates of the amusement park.

Huda counted four guards standing watch at Martyr’s Monument, then she glanced at the man in the booth by the entrance to the parking lot. Two more guards slouched by the turnstiles to the amusement park. As if on cue, Khalid appeared behind them. Huda slid out of the Corolla and raised her hand. Khalid waved back and loped through the rows of parked cars.

“I’m starving.” Khalid jogged toward her. “What’s for dinner?”

“Is that how you greet your mother?” Huda steered him toward a bench overlooking the lake. From there, no one could approach them unnoticed. “Sit down. I want to speak with you.”

“I’m hungry,” said Khalid. “Can’t we talk on the way home?”

“No, we cannot,” she snapped. “Sit down.”

Khalid scowled and slumped onto the bench.

“I have just come from your school,” she said.

Khalid shot her a startled glance, then quickly looked away, across the lake toward the glittering dome rising a hundred twenty feet into the sky.

“I was summoned for a meeting with your principal.”

Khalid grew very still. Huda glanced over her shoulder. The old man was still in his booth. The guards at the amusement park paid them no attention.

“Principal al-Quds told me every student marched in the victory parade yesterday—except you. How can that be? Surely, you are not so foolish as to skip a parade honoring the president?”

“I, uh . . .” Khalid swallowed. Out in the lake, the fountains shot jubilant jets of water high into the sky. The sun transformed every drop into its own perfect rainbow.

“Don’t you know what happens to boys who do not attend rallies? Don’t you know their entire families can be punished?”

Huda flicked an anxious glance at the guards across the lake.

“Do you remember Professor Hafez who used to live on the corner of our street?”

“Sort of . . .”

“Professor Hafez did not march in a rally at his college. So the police came and took him away. They kept him for three days.” She turned to Khalid. “What do you think they did all that time? Do you think they drank tea and talked about soccer?”

Khalid studied his boots.

“When Professor Hafez eventually came home, he’d lost his job. A week later, his whole family disappeared in the middle of the night. Maybe they moved somewhere else. No one knows.” Huda glanced at the monument. “But it all happened after Professor Hafez skipped that rally.”

“I didn’t think anyone would notice,” mumbled Khalid.