Khalid would shrug, then find some reason to slip away, often to the mosque. Huda knew she should be grateful he found solace in God, but sometimes he returned with a flat look in his eyes, like someone had pulled out a plug, or snipped a crucial wire. The local imam seemed generous and kind, but whenever Huda imagined prayer time, it was the white-bearded cleric from the Khan Murjan she saw railing from the pulpit, and Khalid bowed down before him.

She pushed the thought away, then stood on her tiptoes and searched for Ally’s dark, shining hair bobbing above the crowd. The girl promised she’d meet her here. Huda shifted uneasily. Maybe she’d changed her mind. Perhaps Ally didn’t want to stand on the sidewalk, checking her watch and making chitchat, while the past bore down on them like a runaway bus. As Huda scanned the roadside, she thought it fitting penance for a liar like her, that she could no longer keep faith in anyone else’s word.

A young man pushed a cart with a vat of steaming chickpea stew along the sidewalk. Huda’s stomach growled.

“Huda!” Ally darted through the traffic and hurried onto the curb. “Is she here? Has Rania’s van arrived?”

“Not yet. But soon, inshallah.”

“Is Khalid with you?” Ally waved off a hawker selling lukewarm Pepsi. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to see him.”

“He’s at school.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine,” she lied. “He’s adjusting. It’s a new place, a new country, after all.”

The girl peeked at her from the corner of her eye, then looked away. Silence rose between them, filled the spaces between the honk, hiss, and hubbub of the bus station. Abdul Amir liked to say the past was dead. But their silence kept it alive, quivering inside them.

“So how’s the new job working out?” Ally adjusted her handbag under her arm.

“Everyone is very nice, thank you.” Huda bobbed her head. “Not as kind as Mr. Tom, of course, but very welcoming.”

Instead of being fired for taking the Land Cruiser, as she expected, Huda managed to get a part-time job at the Australian embassy in Amman—largely thanks to Ally. She’d told Tom and the ambassador that when she learned the mukhabarat were harassing Huda and Khalid, she convinced them to escape with her. It was all her idea, she said.

Ally didn’t tell them that Hanan was in the back seat when they crossed the border. And she didn’t tell them about the Bolt Cutter. Huda wondered, when Ally saw Tom in person, would she be able to hold her secrets inside? Or would she turn to him late at night and whisper in his ear of the red fan of blood and how it was so very bright against the pale sand?